I don’t handle transition well. I have friends and loved ones who really flourish in times of transition, whose capability to roll with the punches is honestly nothing short of extraordinary and who seem to have endless patience for adjusting variables.

I want to be that person, but transition and uncertainty make me physically ill. I like to know where I’m headed. I don’t even like to go on walks unless I have a destination in mind. I’d love to be the person who can just happily wander around my neighborhood or fly by the seat of my pants, but I’m so not. I’m trying to make peace with that.

Luckily for me, my life is starting to have a definite routine again. I began nannying on Monday and so far, it’s going even better than I had hoped for. I realized that all of things that I hated about my previous daycare jobs is nonexistent in this situation. I worked for several daycares where I was overworked, underpaid, utterly unappreciated—by my boss, that is, my kids always loved me and attacked me with affection, which is the best perk!

Worst of all, there were multiple times where a child with a behavioral problem was compromising the happiness of the rest of my kids, and I was powerless to do anything about it. When I was at the Montessori school, the director of the school didn’t want to have to deal with the parents at all, so she made it my responsibility to talk to the parents of problem children. I was 21 and there I was, having to tell a crying mother that other parents were threatening to pull their children out of the school unless her child could behave. I was having to tell her that while 14 other toddlers swarmed around me, tugging on me for attention. It was a nightmare.

Being a nanny, on the other hand, has been truly awesome. I am keeping the group small, and since all of the kids are only with me part-time, there is a nice rotation and variety and there are still some chunks of time where it’s just me and Milo. Matthew is currently in the application process for a few apprenticeships, so I’m really glad to have an extra hand when I need one, but the kids are sweet and easygoing, and when I wake up in the morning, there is no sense of dread. It’s funny how I didn’t really notice the dread until it was gone. How long had I been waking up, hating the idea of having to lock myself away at some point to get work done? I don’t even know. Possibly it had always been that way and I just didn’t notice, because I thought that was the default, it was what everyone felt on a weekday.

Anyway, here is what you came for, pictures of cute kids:

Jack, Milo, and Cal having a snack

Holy crap, so much cuteness!

I’m thinking about starting a happy hour for nannies and caregivers in Portland. It will be a monthly opportunity to get together, compare notes, talk about experiences. I definitely do not want it to be a bitch-fest. If you know someone who might be interested, send ‘em my way.

Here’s my favorite thing about living with a toddler: watching him make decisions. It is the source of endless fascination and pleasure for me. That tired old cliche “seeing his gears turn”—this is really true with a young child. You can watch their expressions change as they process new information.

And since I’m human and thus every observation I make about someone just makes me think about myself, the thousands of decisions that Milo makes in a day leads me to ponder my own decision-making.

Most of the critical long-term decisions that I’ve made in my life were made in my late teens and early 20s: what college I attended, my major(s), where I lived after college, my first jobs. I even met Matthew when I was 20, although we didn’t start dating until I was 26—lucky for Matthew.

Here’s the thing about your early 20s: You’re an adult by every definition that counts. You can vote; you can drink; most of us have graduated college or trade school and have begun careers. Some of us are married or dating the person we will marry. Some of us even have kids.

But a 21-year-old isn’t even a fully-formed human being yet. The frontal lobe reaches full maturity during your mid-20s. Why is your frontal lobe so important?

The executive functions of the frontal lobes involve the ability to recognize future consequences resulting from current actions, to choose between good and bad actions (or better and best), override and suppress unacceptable social responses, and determine similarities and differences between things or events. Therefore, it is involved in higher mental functions.

So that’s some pretty important stuff. The underdeveloped frontal lobe is why a lot of us did things in our teens and 20s that seems at best reckless and at worst criminal, or at least criminally stupid.

I was recently laid off from the company for whom I had been working since I was 21. It was the kind of foundation-shaking life occurence that makes you take stock, that makes you look back and wonder how things might have been different if you’d chosen another path.

As a parent, I am really saddened by how much pressure is on teenagers to figure out their entire futures before they’ve even figured out who they are yet. I don’t know yet how I’m going to help Milo through that time in his life, but I do want to make sure that none of that pressure is coming from me. I hope that he screws up, a lot, and learns from all of it. And that he can pick himself up after every setback and shoulder on. I hope that if he learns anything from us, it’s that failure isn’t the worst thing. Giving up is the worst thing.

If you follow my Twitter, you already know about my LOST blog. It was only a matter of time before LOST started to creep into my cooking, since it has fully permeated the rest of my life.

The other night, I created a cocktail for a dinner party. It’s pale pink and features lots of juice. When my friend Jess asked what I was going to name this cocktail, the name seemed obvious: The Flashsideways.

Here is the recipe for a pitcher of cocktails:

3 cups cranberry juice (or cranberry blend, so long as it’s 100% juice and not a “cocktail”)
2 cups vodka
1 1/2 cups peach schnapps
1/2 cup simple syrup
the juice of one red grapefruit
the juice of two lemons (I used Meyer for extra sweetness)
2 tablespoons grenadine

After you mix the ingredients in the pitcher, you then add to each cocktail: a splash of lemon-lime soda (sugar-sweetened only, high fructose corn syrup is a hangover waiting to happen).

Adding the soda at the end not only retains the fizziness of the soda, but it will let each person control how strong their drink is. If you want a weak drink, you just fill the glass halfway from the pitcher, then fill the rest with soda.

There might still be time for you to make a pitcher before the latest episode of LOST airs if you hurry!

This post contains spoilers about LOST through Season 5 after the image. Be warned!

It's really only 2 (fara)days, but I stole this image from someone else!

I wish that I could tell you how much thought I’ve given to Season 6 of LOST without coming off as the craziest obsessed fan ever.

Here’s the thing about me: I’m not obsessive—and trust me on this point, because I’ve now lived with and loved two people with OCD, so I know it when I see it—but rather I am fond of obsessing. When I have something to obsess over, it organizes my brain very tidily. Without it, I am all over the place.

Zen Buddhism refers to it as “Western monkey mind,” this tendency for your brain to multi-task perpetually and never let you concentrate on one single thing. There are lots of different methods to tame your brain. Some people like drugs, either pharmaceutical or recreational. Some meditate. I like to just give my brain something to work on: “Here, brain, I really want to veganize this recipe from my childhood. I just bought this Will Oldham record. I got an Annie Dillard book from the library.” My brain takes my offering and scatters off in one direction and works on it, leaving the practical side of my brain free to pay bills and do my job and make my son lunch.

When LOST came into my life, it was not unlike falling in love. LOST has been the nicest little puzzle for my brain since I stopped playing video games. I will really miss it when it’s all over, but I will only miss watching the episodes a little bit. Mostly I will miss thinking about the show.

So after that long and protracted preamble, here is what I think will happen in Season 6. I’m putting it in writing, which is stupid, because now you have an entry to come back to in weeks to follow to laugh about how wrong I was. That’s fine. You have no better idea what’s going to happen than I do, which is why LOST is the greatest ever.

Do I think that setting off the bomb pressed a giant reset button and Episode 1 of Season 6 will show them all landing at LAX, safe and sound? Maybe. Originally I thought, “No way, they may lead us to believe that in Episode 1, they may show us Christian’s funeral and Kate being hauled off to prison and all of that, but then it will turn out to be just a dream or a fantasy.”

The writers of LOST spent all of Seasons 4 and 5 presenting us with their rules of time travel: This is not Back to the Future style time travel. In LOST time travel, any attempt to change history is futile and the course will correct itself: “Whatever happened, happened.” “You’re going to die, Charlie.” Elouise Hawking knew she would kill her son and let him go back to the island, anyway. It just doesn’t make sense to me that all of the sudden, Daniel Faraday would show up and be like, “Oh, psych, we were wrong, you can change the past, just do this!” and it would work.

What my good pal Susie made me realize is that what was presented in the Season 5 finale as being a matter of Jack vs. Sawyer is really a matter of Daniel Faraday vs. Elouise Hawking. Either way: rash impulse vs. calm and thoughtful decision-making. Historically on LOST, if a character makes a decision quickly and emotionally, it’s a bad one. Recall if you will the conversation between Jack and Sawyer in the Season 5 episode “Namaste”: “It’s how I like to run things. I think. I’m sure that doesn’t mean that much to you, ’cause back when you were calling the shots, you pretty much just reacted. See, you didn’t think, Jack, and as I recall, a lot of people ended up dead.”

So here is what I think: I think that minor events may change, and it will be really fun to see that all play out, and they might dedicate even 3 or 4 episodes to “alternate reality,” but I think that all the principal players will end up back on that island and I think that everyone who died will die again, including of course Boone, Charlie, Mr. Eko, Locke, and Jacob.

I also think that we will see most of the events from Seasons 1-5 from the perspective of the Others. I think that we’ll get at least one whole episode about Richard.

And—and here is where I diverge from 95% of LOST fans—I think we’ll find out that Jacob is bad and The Man In Black is good, and by the time that Season 6 is over, we’ll all be really happy that the Man in Black finally got to kill the bastard. Because it’s pretty much taken for granted at this point that The Man in Black is the Smoke Monster, right? And the Smoke Monster is the island. And the island is GOOD.

Ben vs. Widmore? I don’t care. They’re just puppets, anyway. There is something about being an Other which so thoroughly brainwashes you into thinking that you’re doing the right thing that you can become this kidnapping, murderous, deceptive automoton following orders in the name of “doing what Jacob/The Island wants,” and that interests me, but I’m not really into their petty little rivalry for who gets to be king of the mountain. At least, I’m not interested right now, but I’m sure the writers could make me interested!

I’m looking foward to seeing how this will all play out, and I’m already starting to grieve a little about this whole ride coming to an end.

Thank you, LOST!

These are two of my favorite poems. I like to post them to the internet every three years or so, because that’s the nice thing about poems. If you want to share a book with a friend, it’s so awkward. You can loan it to them, sure, or buy them a copy. But it’s obnoxious to ask after it, so you have to wait for them to bring it up. Poems only take a few seconds, and you don’t feel so bad about asking someone to spare those moments.

This first poem I liked to pull out in the middle of a break-up to console myself. This poem, Bright Eyes, The Dismemberment Plan’s “Following Through,” and copious amounts of whiskey were my main self-healing tools in my 20s.

Bay Poem from Berkeley
by Sandra Cisneros

Mornings I still
reach for you before
opening my eyes.

An antique habit from
last summer when we pulled
each other into the heat of groin
and belly, slept with an arm
around the other.

The Texas sun was like that.
Like a body asleep beside you.

But when I open my eyes
to the flannel and down,
mist at the window and blue
light from the bay, I remember
where I am.

This weight
on the other side of the bed
is only books, not you. What
I said I loved more than you.
True.

Though these mornings
I wish books loved back.

This second poem is one that Matthew sent me when we were still pretending that we were just friends and we weren’t falling in love with each other. This was right around the time when we called each other every night and he would read me to sleep:

The Quiet World
by Jeffrey McDaniel

In an effort to get people to look
into each other’s eyes more,
and also to appease the mutes,
the government has decided
to allot each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it to my ear
without saying hello. In the restaurant
I point at chicken noodle soup.
I am adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long distance lover,
proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.

When she doesn’t respond,
I know she’s used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.

I read this poem aloud to a friend after Matthew sent it to me and she said, “Jeffrey McDaniel! I love Jeffrey McDaniel!” and she shared with me a poem of his that she had memorized, which contained the line: “Your bed is a big, soft calculator where my problems multiply,” and I whispered that line over and over to myself that night. I was drinking whiskey then, too, but that night it was because I didn’t think it was possible that I’d ever get to spend time with this person that I liked so much, who lived all the way across the country.

Here’s the dilemma of taking photos of your new curtains: it’s winter in Portland, so if you want to take an indoor photo with natural sunlight, you have to throw open all the curtains to let in what little sunshine is available. If you do that, you can’t really see what the curtains look like—and taking a photo of the sunlit window washes out the rest of the room, anyway. I guess that if you spent more than $150 on your digital camera, you might be able to work around that, but I am a cheapskate, so forgive me for the overhead light!

This is what the living room looked like (blurry pals not typically included):

lovely friends; boring curtains

Here are the new curtains!

curtains from kitchen

front window curtains

rumply couch and curtains

So what you might be saying now is, “Uh. Hey. Those don’t match.” No, no they don’t.

A little backstory: I have been lusting over Amy Butler’s Nigella line since it was introduced. The combination of the Neo-Romantic designs with the nature-inspired palette makes me swoon hardcore. When I was working on the idea boards for our home, the Nigella line heavily influenced my color choices for the living room right from the start:

living room idea board

But home decorating fabric is expensive—$10-18 a yard usually—and curtains and pillows use up a lot of fabric. To make four window panels for my almost-floor-to-ceiling windows, I’d need 10 yards of fabric. So even if I found a good deal, I’d be looking at $150 just for curtains. That may seem reasonable to some people, but I’m frugal. That number makes me cringe. Thus, I started searching Etsy and eBay regularly for discounts on fabric, and lucked out with some post-Christmas sales. The fabric for my curtains ended up being $55.

Sure: they don’t match. But that’s kind of more of our style, anyway. May I remind you what Matthew wanted to do in our living room?

Potato Champion cart

He wanted to paint big zig-zags on the wall, ala the Potato Champion cart. But, you know, sans lumberjack. I like to think that I got pretty close with the fabric for the curtains behind the couch:

Amy Butler Nigella: Ritzy Stripe Nickel

The beige curtains that were in the living room have been moved into Milo’s room, where they’re picking up a little bit of the beige in his quilt and serving the practical duty of keeping out the draft from the windows, since they’re much thicker than the summer-weight curtains that were in there.

At some point in the future, we’re going to hang double-curtain rods so that we can hang sheer privacy curtains behind these that let in light, but these are doing the trick for the winter weather.

Come over and have a cup of tea on the couch with me!

Over at my etsy store, I’m raffling off (signed & dedicated) copies of Yellow Rose Recipes. I’m only allowing 10 entries per raffle, so if you enter, you have a 10% chance of winning the cookbook. Not shabby! Or you can enter multiple times to increase your chances, and—more importantly—increase your charitable donation.

All proceeds will be going to Haiti via Concern Worldwide. I’ll be creating these raffles through the end of January, which is why I’m not linking directly to the raffle; once this current raffle ends, I’ll create another.

In my frustration yesterday, I pulled a classic Joanna, which is to say that I oversimplified what I know to be a complicated and layered problem.

I do know why I tweet about LOST and post Facebook status updates about the books that I’m reading rather than about our financial woes: It’s because that is what I am thinking about at the moment, what I do want to discuss with others. I’m not walking around in a permanent state of depression. Most of the time, I am downright cheerful, because I don’t want to dwell on the negative aspects in my life right now, and I’m sure that you don’t, either. We all started doing online stuff as a form of entertainment and escapism, so it’s not really fair for me to expect that when you get 10 or 20 minutes in your busy schedule to hop online, you spend that time pouring out your heart about everything that is going on with you. No, of course you choose to keep it light-hearted instead. I understand.

Over the summer, I read MFK Fisher’s STAY ME, OH COMFORT ME, which is a selection of her journal entries from 1933-41. Like me, you’re probably more familiar with her food writing—How to Cook a Wolf, The Gastronomical Me, The Art of Eating—but these journal entries were written at the height of the Depression, several years before she started a professional writing career. At the beginning of the collection, she and her husband are living in California with her family, trying to find some work, doing odd jobs for family and friends of family to make a few extra dollars, and then having small dinner parties with friends, stretching every dollar, splurging occasionally on a nice bottle of liquor. But although every journal entry mentions a new plan for how she or her husband can make some money, the bulk of the writing is about enjoying simple pleasures and making fanciful plans for her future. I loved reading it and related to it so deeply.

I’m sorry if anything I wrote yesterday made anyone feel defensive, or like I was accusing anyone of not being his or herself. That wasn’t my intention. Keep fighting the good fight! You’re awesome.

This morning, I can’t stop thinking about the disconnect between the online and real world. Could this be because I’m currently reading World Leader Pretend (by local Portland author James Bernard Frost), which is about characters escaping their disappointing lives and choosing to spend all of their free time in World of Warcraft-esque online worlds instead, where they have a much higher chance of being successful? Yeah, okay, that is part of it. I would like to believe that I don’t relate to that plot very much, but I work from home and 99% of my interaction with my friends is through Facebook and Twitter status updates, blog posts, and occasional emails. And 1/4 of those friends are people I’ve never met in person. I’d much rather be meeting up with all of my pals at a local restaurant, or flying my family down to Texas a couple of  times a year, but I can’t afford that right now. I can barely afford groceries.

So it’s a real problem in my life that my friends and I continue to maintain pleasant, downright chirpy online personas while many of us are going through hardships in our personal lives, since I am depending on that form of communication to know what’s going on with them. Why am I tweeting about LOST when I don’t know how I’ll make the next mortgage payment? Do I need everything to look the same to the outside viewer to maintain my sanity as I struggle through one of the hardest times I’ve ever faced, or would it be so much better if I could just commiserate with people? We are all going through this. If you still have the job that you had two years ago, bully to you, but statistics tell me that most of you don’t. So why aren’t we talking about it online?

I wanted to share a few bits with you today — things that I read or thought about this week.

my couch

This is a photo of my corner of the couch. It’s where you will find me almost every night at 8 PM, under my quilt, reading a book. This simple routine has been grounding me over the last few weeks. Matthew joins me after a bit, and then we will watch a movie or the latest episode of whatever TV show we’re currently obsessed with, but the 30-45 minutes where I am just reading in silence is priceless and one of the nicest parts of my day, second only to the 10 minutes every morning after Milo wakes me up, when we lie in bed snuggling and giggling.

Thinking about having a wedding that represented who we are made me want to hunt down a set of photos from a wedding that was going around the internet this summer, so here they are. Aren’t they so inspiring and beautiful? Doesn’t everyone seem insanely happy to be there? It would be nice to be a part of something like that, even though that particular something isn’t right for us.

I like what Matthew wrote about running and coffee over on his Tumblr.

Sweet Sweet Life is one of my favorite blogs, because it’s so consistently optimistic and joyful, and one of the few home design-y blogs which embraces color. This blog post about choosing to home school her 11-year-old daughter really inspired me with it’s braveness. We have often discussed giving Milo the same option some day, since the social aspect of middle school was self-esteem-destroying for both Matthew and me and we would would have preferred to have skipped that whole part, if given the choice.

Abby took some beautiful pictures of my ‘hood that made me fall in love with North Portland all over again.

This post about her son’s newfound love of vinyl over at SouleMama made me smile a whole lot.