Once every year a small window opens in our tiny corner of the foothills.  Inside, a few specks of purple poke their tiny heads out smelling sweeter than, sweeter than… oh, I don’t know… HEAVEN!  Dog Violets, I don’t even know what to say that would convey the love I have for these little girls.  Last year, after all the violets had gone, I thought of what I would do with them this year.  I really thought I was going to collect hundreds of them and make a delicious violet oil.  Salad will do.  But next year I swear, violet oil.

Me and Mycelia set out, foraging as many violets as we could from about a block radius in downtown.  We collected the sweet Miner’s Lettuce, Chickweed, and bitter Dandelions that also grow around these parts and brought it home for diner.  It’s probably the best thing you can do to yourself in the cold winter when all you want to eat is cheese and bread and chocolate.  We have been harvesting miners lettuce and chickweed for months now, and it’s almost become boring.  The violets make this so much more inspiring.  They are like eating candy.

So, the recipe is easy.  Collect some edibles, put them in a bowl.  Eat. Enjoy.

Graham

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Last week I had a special mama day all to myself, Graham and Mycie had fun at home while me and my girl Nikiya took a little trip to Sacramento to do some thrift/vintage/buy-sell-trade shopping. We, of course, had an excellent time knowing that our little girls were happy with their papas and we had all the time in the world to browse, try on, and chat.

But first there was the leaving. The getting ready. The daily rastling routine of trying to get a strong willed three-year-old dressed and out the door and in the car seat on time. I honestly don’t remember what set her off crying here, it happens many times a day around here, but I’m sure glad Graham captured the moment :-)

And I am also glad I wore layers that day because man did it get hot once we got to Sacto! Between the thermal and the wool sweater I was dying. My propensity to change into new clothes the second I buy them helped out there, and by afternoon I was chillin’ in sweet new jeans and a cooler top, sipping on coffee and dreaming of spring dresses…

I admit it. I love making a big deal about my birthday. It’s partially that childlike desire to have people shower love and gifts on you, but it also has a lot to do with the time of year I was born. February is rough for a lot of us. It’s been winter long enough but spring is still pretty far away. The holidays are long gone, our vitamin D levels are woefully insufficient, and it’s fucking cold. In other words, it’s the perfect time to throw a party. This year Graham and I got some other friends involved in the planning process, and we ended up having my 29th birthday celebration at some friends’ big ol’ party house, complete with four friends taking turns DJing, a keg, tons of delicious food, and an awesome music studio that served as the sort of chill out space for folks not outside smoking and not wanting to dance at the moment.

That’s The A Team there on the top left- Ariella, Amber, and Amanda. I wore a wicked little lace skirt that I had thrifted a few days before. Graham wore his favorite (hella vintage y’all) Toyota hat. Owen, DJ & keg master, wore this AMAZING green shawl. Which I love him for.

The dancing and music making lasted well into the morning. There was a spontaneous drum troupe performance, an epic late night jam session with folks passing the microphone back and forth, and plenty of ass shaking under the disco ball. Everyone had a killer time and was grateful to escape the daily drudgery for a while.  Continue Reading... (825 words + 20 images, estimated 3:18 mins reading time)

I know that there are *a lot* of people out there who feel the same adoration and admiration for James Dean that I do. But my feelings have a sort of extra dimension to them. It all started when my family and I would take vacations down in California’s Central Valley when I was growing up. On our way to San Luis Obispo and Pismo Beach we’d always stop at the James Dean Memorial erected within view of his crash site on Highway 46. I was deeply moved by it even as a young child. Years later when I fell in love with John Steinbeck I also fell in love with the fact that James Dean’s big break came in the film East of Eden (book is waaay better than the movie I must say, though it is worth every second of it to see Dean in the yellow sweater pictured above). But what really cemented the deep affinity I feel for this gorgeous and totally fascinating (that’s him in ballet class with Eartha Kitt) man was the discovery that we were born 50 years, to the day, apart. I am honored to share a birthday with such an inspiring, innovative, unconventional, creative, and beautiful person.

(Interestingly, I just discovered yesterday that another of my most inspiring heros, the herbalist Susan Weed, was also born on February 8th! As was my dear friend Lucia and the fabulous Missa from Thrift Candy).