Doggie dog dogs :)

Vintage Boxer Framed Signed O.E. LARSEN Lithograph

All I want to do right now is eat cookies. Lots and lots of cookies. I prefer that they have milk chocolate. I'm kinda off the dark chocolate train right now. I love those peanut butter blossoms with milk chocolate Hershey kisses - those are amazing. I will eat them with milk. Right now I have soy milk. I like soy milk.

Vintage Painted Ceramic Whippet Figurine

Dogs also make me very happy. I think they make other people very happy too, so I often buy vintage dog stuff for my shop. Just think of how it feels when you see a dog's smiling face pointed in your direction. There are a lot of dogs in my life. When I'm feeling sad, no one makes me happy quite like a dog. Last night it was a skittish little chihuahua wearing a bow tie and a fleece sweater watching me make cookies. Ah, bliss.

I have nothing to say. I have nothing to write about that feels right to me. My store keeps going and my life keeps going, but I don't have anything to say. I will go running tonight though. That might feel good.

megan + burritos = 4EVER

I may have created a new holiday tradition wherein I eat as many burritos as I want. This lasted about two weeks, and it was wonderful. Last night, it ended tragically. I don't know what to blame: bad avocado, undercooked potatoes, not enough hot sauce, or an over-toasted tortilla. It was all wrong, and I'm left me with an empty feeling in my heart.

As a diabetic, food is not always enjoyable. I can regularly be found stuffing my face with handfuls of raisins at 11pm in a dark kitchen, scrounging for old sugar packets mid-afternoon at work, or just miserably eating anything at anytime. Sometimes I eat because I have to, and I hate it. Actually, I am usually eating because I have to. Food is sustenance, energy. Food is the thing that keeps my blood sugar steady in a way that nothing else can. When something is forced upon me, I usually hate it, even if I previously loved it. If you tell me I must do something, I will cease to love it. I really don't like to be told what to do.

Burritos are enjoyable. Burritos I can do. I also love sandwiches, just less. And if I love something that I can also eat (which will not be a bad choice for me food-wise), the heavens open up for a glorious moment and let me enjoy food. It's a precious thing, and I savor every bit of it.

Except for last night. Damn you bad burrito.

Silver everything.

I've sold a fair bit of silver in the past month or so. I sold a lot of odd-and-ends sterling jewelry. I sold a set of three sterling soup spoons. I sold a set of matching cufflinks and a tie pin. I'm a fan.

I bought the soup spoons with these knives. I couldn't believe that I actually found sterling spoons, as in, full size sterling silver spoons. I felt like I'd won the freakin' lottery. So when they weren't selling, I spent a couple hours really trying to figure out what the pattern was, since the pattern wasn't matching anything the manufacturer ever made in sterling. Eventually I was able to name the pattern, and that's when they sold. $150 for three spoons. Heavenly.

I'm off to a memorial service in the morning. My bff will be accompanying me for emotional support. I don't know what I'll be walking into, who I'll see from my past, who will be nasty (it's happened before). I'm right on the edge of feeling capable of staying in one solid adult-sized piece the whole time. I will likely be getting pan dulce for the road, with my favorite cafe con canela. Food is inextricably linked to my emotional health (thanks diabetes!). But really, food makes me feel capable in a deeper way than the provision of energy. Food gives me literal and figurative fuel for the journey. Isn't that weird, how something so primitive can become so inextricably linked to who we are?

Chew on that, yo.

Makin' pancakes.

I guess I tend to blog when I'm trying to figure out some big thing in my life. Perhaps when things are good, I avoid overanalyzing. Perhaps things are good because I'm not overanalyzing. Touché.

All the Salvation Armies had "half off everything" sales yesterday, so naturally, I bought a ridiculously expensive camera and am attempting to sell it. Girl's gotta eat yo.

Speaking of eating, I am still eating several burritos daily weekly, but have now been cooking in my new kitchen on a somewhat regular basis. It's hard to get used to having a kitchen. Someone gave me a cookbook for Christmas, and I had the thought, "Does this mean something because you've never actually seen me cook, and I have no food in my fridge?" Asking myself that question was some sort of  necessary therapy, and I'm happy to say that I ate pancakes for dinner this evening.

Last night I listened to Merle Haggard and Waylon Jennings records, whilst listening to someone wax philosophical about the meaning of old school country music. I think at some point there was also dancing, so yeah, life is good :)

Avoid extremism!

Holy freakin' shit! Didn't know what I bought - listed for $250 on eBay.

When I meet new people who also love thrift, I often get asked the question, "What's the best store in town?" And, unfortunately, I can never offer a succinct response. "Well...it depends," I say, knowing that everyone thrifts for different reasons, and I can't possibly predict what's perfect for you. That being said, I'm beginning to recognize in myself a distaste for labels. What does best even mean? It certainly means something different to you than it does to me. I find that I make more friends when I allow every person I meet to have their own favorites, their own tastes.

Um, solid brass Eiffel Tower? So cool!

I'm an extremist by nature. I have to catch myself, watch my behavior, make sure I don't start living on green smoothies and doing yoga constantly. Because that's the goal, right? We're all supposed to be walking towards more perfect versions of ourselves? Meh, I don't agree. In fact, I disagree quite strongly.

I think we're all okay just the way we are, that of course over time, we will all grow and change, but that doesn't mean that we are worthless or not good enough as we already are.

Egyptian-ish choker collar necklace

So yeah, it usually takes me until after 3 o'clock to eat lunch, even though I'm hungry before that. I am oftentimes too stressed about something small to get a good night's sleep. I cried at a party yesterday for no reason and constantly say inappropriate things in polite company.

There are a hundred other things that make me imperfect, and one by one I work on them over time. I've been doing this my whole life, working on becoming the person that I want to be. I don't expect that person to look anything like anyone else or to save the world or be everything to one other person. I recognize that I am human, and flawed, and imperfect, and I'm quite okay with that. I'm okay with eating dinner with my small group when there is milk and bacon in the soup (omg. Best clam chowder of all time), not because I'm all awesome and hospitable, but because damn, even I have to let go of my rules sometimes. Of course, this is probably scarier than the other option, to create rules for everything so I can always feel safe. But it's that kind of safety that gets terrifically overrated, that people strive for so that nothing ever changes, so they feel no pain. But change is constant, and pain is a reality, and we're all in this together. Blah, blah, blah. Speech over.

I needed to give myself a pep talk, so I wrote it down - cheers y'all :)

I prevent erosion.

Don't you want to know more about geothermal energy?

Compost is awesome. I speak from experience.

About a year ago, we had a gas leak on our property. Holes were dug. Large machines had to be used. It was an unfortunate mess for our backyard. And some of the holes still remain today. Well, there are small children around, and these holes make me think that we are always one day away from a sprained, or worse, broken, ankle (I myself have sprained my ankle a couple times, and do not want to hobble anywhere any time soon). So I've ceased to wait for the holes to magically disappear, and decided that I will fill them myself, with the dirt that I, wonderful dirt-maker-me, have created.

I swear, the dirt we create not only keeps schtuff out of landfills, but I'm also convinced that it will help prevent erosion, and thus, the dreaded sinkhole.

Go make some. 

Faith is a fact.

I have a friend in another country who goes to church every day after work, sits in a silent old church in some old European country, and contemplates God or something especially cool. It seemed extreme to me when I first heard it, but I understand so much more now. We need ritual in our lives, sameness, things that do not change. This ritualizing of behaviors creates solidity in our souls, plants us into the ground, makes us feel safe in our own skin. Weird and definitely spiritual, but true. Take it or leave it.

In the wake of school shootings and marathon bombings, I hear stories of people reaching out in new and different ways. Today, while driving the freeway in between meetings across town from one another, I wondered if people are looking for God somehow in this reaching-out, and I thought about lighting a candle. I have another friend who lights candles regularly, also an awesome person. I so appreciate that she has created some kind of place for that. I don't think I have the room. Maybe I could put a shelf up or something.

Who knew I'd become more Catholic as I got older. It's strange and wonderful, and I'm glad my faith allows me to change over time, to go in and out of faith phases, just as I move in and out of food phases. I am still going to the panaderia every morning, and tonight I realized after my evening walk down the boulevard, that I could not go the rest of the day without eating ice cream.

So yeah, phases are good. Or okay, at least. Also ritual is good. I don't know if they are connected. Whatever. I won't figure everything out before I die, but I might figure out some things. Hopefully bread/ice cream phase won't put me in the grave sooner over later.

Rummage Sale Planning - Part 3

Very unique vintage square dance skirt - just sold :)

When I was in college, I was really interested in event planning as a career. So I got into large-scale athletic events, events that get planned all year long, take a lot of human power and time, and are fun to participate in. I ended up on my knees one year in San Francisco, taking ankle monitors off of hundreds of open-water swimmers as they came out of the water, freezing and exhilarated. That was a good hair day, the last one I can remember clearly. I think it was the salty sea air.

Rummage sale planning is very different. There isn't a lot of "planning" that I'm able to do on my own. I have the idea. I execute the idea. People come alongside me to help, and somehow it happens. If I were more organized, I imagine the sale would be more organized. I don't know how to make that happen. I'm sure that other people do. For the time being, people will bring things to church this week, I will spend Thursday and Friday organizing the donations, and several hours on Saturday trying to sell it all. That may not be enough for some people, but it's enough for me.

Last night, while running an errand for a friend, I happened to pass by one of my favorite burrito places. The sign was down and the place was empty. I haven't eaten there in months. I guess unbeknownst to me, I'd been keeping them in business ;)

Rummage sale planning - Part 1

Your ultimate dream: parent-child matching costumes.

I wish I had a delivery boy who brought me sandwiches from Whole Foods on weekends, or any evening really. I was at Whole Foods last night getting groceries, and wishing that I was home in a prone position. Sometimes I think people need to get married so that they split up these kinds of things. I swear I talk to so many women whose husbands cook and clean, and I do not know how this all goes down. It's a mystery to me. I tend to be more traditional, hands in hot soapy water washing dishes, making broccoli pesto for dinner, etc. There are just certain things I don't like to do, and sometimes these things keep me from doing things I would enjoy doing.

[Insert rummage sale here]. So I am currently organizing a rummage sale, to be held at my church, to raise money for Syrian refugees. I found myself getting too caught up in the minutiae of my own life, took a step back, and realized that I needed to be more productive, and generally whine less.

I did the same thing a couple years ago, but it stressed me out so much that I swore I'd never do it again. Now I'm just trying to stay chill, let things happen, and not agonize over the details. I don't know if it's working. I'll let you know.

Human energy.

Martha Stewart Crafts Shape Punch

I've been listening to old political podcasts from late 2011, when the Occupy Movement began, and people wanted to do something, make something happen. People were angry, fed up. I'm wondering where that energy went. I mean, energy cannot be extinguished, right? It's just converted, reintegrated.

Just as solar panels channel solar energy into electrical energy (this is so not my specialty), I wonder where human energy goes, the raw multidirectional energy that we need every day to survive. It isn't as simple as food and water. Human energy is created by human beings - emotional inertia created by need and want. It's what creates change: political change, social change.

I'm starting to wonder where that energy went. It couldn't have gone away, right? People still care, right? My hope is that it has become more organized, gone underground, and people are getting things done.

I dunno. I sure hope things are gonna get better soon.

Maranatha.

Wasteland.

Joanne Sibley watercolor print - She often paints the Caribbean area.

Wasteland (Almega Projects, 2010), a documentary largely conceptualized by artist Vik Muniz, is about trash and landfills in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. It's interesting in many ways because of Rio's focus on general cleansing (e.g. running gangs out of the slums) as they prepare for the 2016 Olympic Games. The documentary focuses on the people who work and survive on the landfills, recycling all of that which can be recycled (as Rio has no separate recycling pick-up services), and even using the food to feed themselves (in very impressive, and non-disgusting ways, I will add).

This film sat on my Netflix queue for ages, as it seemed like something I would like (i.e. it was about trash, and my fantasy destination: landfills!), but I never got to it. Every time I considered it, I felt depressed, and found something funny to do instead.

Eventually, I watched it. It was that moment, when you've been waiting to do something for ages, but just waiting for the right moment. And it was beautiful, full of real human experience and emotion, and the deep raw-ness of working with trash, of being trash, and what that means to a person's soul. It's a beautiful film, both emotionally and aesthetically. Philosophically, it brings the hidden secret world into view, and exposes it for the truth it truly brings to the world and the human experience: those who live off the landfill are the most beautiful people you can find.

I don't know if the experience of these filmmakers could be recreated across the world in other landfill worker colonies, but I'm glad that they took the time to really see the people they researched. They made something beautiful in a dirty, ugly place. They found beauty that was already there.

Mexican bread :)

Who this is, where it came from, I don't know.

When I was a kid, my stepdad occasionally brought home Mexican bread from work. I only remember the ones with pink and yellow stuff on top. His coworkers gave him food, he would bring it home, and it would get eaten by someone, usually. All I remember is how dry and crumbly they were, and I decided that for the rest of my life, I would eschew Mexican breads of all kind.

Fast-forward to today, and I have discovered that I love Mexican bread. I have to keep myself from going to the panaderia every day. It's on my way to work, and it's only a couple blocks away from my house, and it's always soft and fresh. I can't get enough of it. I'm always the whitest person in the place, and the only one speaking English, but I don't care. I want the bread! It's my newest coping mechanism. I got coffee there once, but it wasn't worth it. Most people don't drink coffee there anyway. They get champurrado, which is excessive to my anti-dairy palette.

If I go at 9, it's less fresh. If I go before 7, it's the best: light and airy and a little warm. Ahhhh... Just thinking about it makes me feel happy and peaceful :)

Green Smoothies :)

Casualware "Avocado" Green Knives - A first for me :)

I believe that there are receptors in our body that crave green nutrients, fresh raw green nutrients. I also believe that eating all raw is crazy. I had a moment a month or so ago where I found a website that told me that eating all raw would cure my Type I Diabetes, and I was consumed by guilt that I wasn't willing to do it. But I got over it when I remembered how short life is, and I think that we all have to make decisions about our health that allow us to survive and thrive. Being limited by a diet limits one's entire life. I learned this when I was initially diagnosed with diabetes, and I ended up living on lettuce and protein bars. I was miserable, and sick, and I couldn't fit in anywhere.

It took me a long time to try every diet for diabetes, and choose one that worked for me. Veganism works for me. I've figured out how to make it work, take care of myself, and not go crazy. The latter is probably the most important (see earlier comment on lettuce).

Anyhoo, the most recent way I've figured out how to flood those "raw green" receptors (maybe they're in my gut somewhere) is to make green "smoothies". You throw some green stuff in a blender with some fruit and some sort of liquid (I use water), blend it up and drink it. I know it sounds gross, but there is something about it that makes me feel really good, and that makes me want to keep doing it. It helps me eat a lot of spinach too, which I know is good for me, especially since I don't eat meat.

Anyhoo, there are a ton of rules about how to do it, which I don't follow very closely, because too many rules makes me less likely to do the thing I'm trying to do. And seriously, if you go from no spinach to a glass of green every once in a while, that can only be good, right?

Way more play...

Made in France! Who knew they loved self-help books?

This guy kept passing me in the aisles today making weird noises, almost like clicking, but not quite. The first time it happened, I figured I was hearing something. The second time, I figured out what was happening, and it did not feel good.

Maybe it's my terrible hair making me more approachable; maybe it's my ever-present smile scowl - but I've been getting way more play in thrift stores lately. Even the female employees are becoming more friendly, and I talk to them about things other than thrift! Isn't that cool? I'm becoming an almost friendly person, perhaps even likeable. Or maybe it's because I shower regularly and have all my teeth. Meh, it's a crapshoot, really.

I'm so into mugs right now. It's a thing. Usually my thing is food-related, but not currently. I can't even remember the last time I ate a burrito. Now how weird is that?

Piles and piles...

This coat just screams "Mountain Man", don' it?

Right now, I have a pile of clothing on my bed, already photographed, waiting to be listed. I had a momentary meltdown yesterday about money, so working today makes me feel calmer, like I have some power over my circumstances.

I spend like half my income on medical bills. So all this extra bullshit with my brain just makes me feel like I'm going to die in debt. I feel like I can't get out of it, so I'm working as much as I can to empower myself through December to pay my bills and buy groceries, simultaneously. A girl can hope.

My wish on the yoga studio's Christmas tree last night is to get out of debt someday. I just hope it will be someday soon.

I hate money.

Sifting through junk :)

Autumn-themed Vera tablecloth :)

So I'm in this weird selling rut, where my professional wheels-and-heels job is cutting into my getting-my-hands-dirty job. So this afternoon, on a long lunch, I went to a warehouse downtown where I've heard that there is a lot of junk. Well, it didn't look like they were open, but the door was ajar, so I timidly walked in. They were closed, but I looked so professional and out-of-place that they felt sorry for me and let me walk around anyway, and referred to me as "this nice lady". I really needed to sift through a bunch of junk today. I needed a good day.

Next time I go in, I will go on a day when they are actually open, and I will wear overalls or something equally unattractive, so I can really dig and get gross. They said not to pay attention to prices, so I imagine I can get a bunch of stuff and make 'em a deal, which I love to do. Also, I found some old PETA cards that encouraged vegetarianism, and a homemade mug that said "Pappy" with a naked woman as the handle (like at a ship's prow).

I finally got my bike cleaned and photographed and almost listed. I am making progress, painfully slow progress, but progress nonetheless.

Peace out mofos :)

I've found my vice.

For a long time, I've complained to anyone who will listen that I need a vice badly. I need something that I can do that is mine, that feels like rebellion, something I do that says, "I really don't give a fuck". Well friends, I have found that thing. And it is Whole Foods.

Whole Foods gives me vegan muffins and scones, vegan cake, soy yogurt, fake wonderful meat, kombucha (!), and men who smile at me like goons. Whole Foods has the most comprehensive selection of vegan options than anywhere else in town. Yeah, so it's more expensive, but I don't care. It's food! It's what I put in my body, the houser of my soul and all that jazz. So I'm gonna own it. I'm gonna own my vice like nobody's business.

Ah, gardens :)

Five LP Set - Very Good Condition - An Uncertain Purchase

So I took a trip to the Bay Area over the weekend, not for fun, but it was enjoyable in some ways. I got to hang out at the pretty cool Stanford campus, and eat healthy veggie-rich food from the hospital cafeteria. A huge oatmeal (with toppings!) was $1.70. Oh my goodness. I sat in the cafeteria Saturday morning, eating oatmeal and reading the Chronicle, and it was really a lovely time. Later, I got to walk around Palo Alto (and drive, which was way worse) with my brother, while we practiced circular breathing (see yesterday's post) and watched the ducks in the fountain.

I really do love college campuses. As I walked around on Friday, I was thinking, "What if I went back to school someday to be a professor? What if a place like this hired me? I would need to learn how to be a better academic writer. I am a decent one, but I really need to work on solidifying my zany ideas so that other people can get a better grasp on them".

Oftentimes, the best thing about college campuses is how environmentally conscious they are. The hospital had a very easy-to-understand system of composting/recycling/trash, and all of their disposable utensils, plates, to-go boxes, and cups were compostable. Now, of course, this stuff does take time to compost, but it just made me so happy to be able to participate. Also, the portion of the hospital I was primarily in was covered in gardens, which could all be seen from inside, and enjoyed on benches when one decided to enjoy the outdoors (which was far cooler, temperature-wise, than my lovely home). All in all, I enjoyed being with loved ones, and getting to see a new place. Also, I was duly inspired to increase my gardening, so props to Palo Alto for that :)

My weekend :)

1. The restaurant Lyfe, with a veggie burger and vegan chocolate chip cookie
2. So many pregnant women in form-fitting stretchy dresses
3. My brother taught me how to breathe for a didgeridoo
4. I ate a lot of green vegetables
5. I walked all over the Stanford campus and felt inferior
6. A lot of antibacterial handwashing, and then some more
7. Hours of good thinking time in my car
8. Twelve hours of sleep last night on a friend's lovely hide-a-bed
9. Canada Day :)
10. A crazy evening of Magic Mike (at least I didn't cry this time) and a new-found personal commitment to support Matthew McConaughey for the supporting actor Academy Award (the Academy is typically very welcoming of my many educated and varied opinions)

Happy Saturday :)

This bird's nest fell out of a tree in my front yard :)

This has been a tough week, but the past several have been tough, so that really doesn't mean all that much. I hate the depression of summer, but it keeps me from going over the edge and collapsing the rest of the time, so it's worth the difficult days, usually. Mostly I just sit in my apartment with my mini fan pointed directly at me, doing eBay schtuff and listening to talk radio. Television makes me feel a lot more guilty, so I try to take it in small amounts (I don't know where I got the idea that summer television was shameful - probably my mother). Also, I drink a lot of smoothies, which makes me feel like a rock star. They're full of spinach and berries. I figure my iron and antioxidant load is now back where it should be.

Tonight, I am going out with friends to see Magic Mike (I later read this, and had some brain waves to the contrary). I am telling you so that you know that I have no shame (I think). Oh man, at the end of Dear John, when Channing Tatum and Amanda Seyfried's characters end up together after her sufficiently hot first husband dies tragically, gives me hope that love can truly conquer all. I'm not kidding.