I still love summer and am a very official Motorist.

I certainly hope absence makes the heart grow fonder because I have been plain absent around these parts, haven't I? Chalk it up to summer travels, minor states of emergencies, and a general feeling of my life being on fast forward. Oh, and school is starting and I possibly went a bit mad and joined the PTA board of Cleo's school! Hello, time commitment!

I'm sad for summer to be coming to a close-there will never be enough days at the pool or bbq'd chicken in my book- but I am feeling ready to usher back some structure in my household. I've been sadly delinquent in crafting and reading and cooking anything that requires time in the oven. My heel callouses are out of hand and it is probably time to put on a pair of socks again. But man, it has been a fun summer. Swimming and tubing on rivers, learning to fly fish, hiking and smelling like campfire, sticky sheets and fans in the window; gin and tonics and fun bbqs and new groovy vintage patio set out on our deck; dirt under my nails and hummingbirds zooming overhead; clouds of white roses and cascades of blue morning glories; training chickens to jump; watching Flynn learn to ride a scooter; sandbox digging, Cleo's fairy house making; road trips and camping plans and happy babies being born and made. Life fairly overflows during summer doesn't it? And summer, I'm still not done with you yet!

We just returned from our annual summer road trip. For the last three years we've made a plan with one of my best friends from college to meet up and camp or spend a few days in a cabin somewhere we want to explore. It has become a great tradition, one made even sweeter by the fact that our daughters are only 3 months apart and fast friends. (We are pretty sure they think they are some kind of relation-some hybrid form between cousins and sisters.) I've gone off about my love of the road trip before, and I can't help but do it again. It is truly the best way to travel if you like landscape and regionalism and believe in the luxury of time. That is probably the single most ironic thing about road trips-the method of transport may not be luxurious and its definitely not convenient- but the act of meandering state to state without regard to time truly is. As a culture, we pride ourselves on quick flights to Vegas and convenient non- stops direct to Paris from Salt Lake, and yet there is nothing in those kind of journeys that makes me feel relaxed, and even less that engages me or piques my interest about where it is I'm traveling to. LIfe looks lifeless when seen from 30,000 feet.

When I lived in New York and rode the subway everywhere, the whole city felt to me like a disorienting mish-mash of disparate locations; walk up a set of stairs at 59th Street stop and you get Bloomingdales, walk up another set at the Bowery and you get restaurant store supply shops and cheap booze. It always felt like a puzzle (or teleporting) and it wasn't until we bought a car and drove the city more that I started to notice the subtle ways the pieces and neighborhoods fit and flowed from one to the next. The same thing happens for me on road trips. I love to watch the land flatten out into grassy plains and deep gorges and then rise up again into voluptuous mountains. You can literally see the tectonics and erosion at play. I like to watch the idiosyncrasies of local places-how some farmers in an area are suddenly partial to circular hay bales and others stick with the tried and true rectangles. Or the way that American cars take over the road as soon as you leave any sizable city. I like that I know that pretty much every small town in America has something called the Knotty Pine. And I love that road signs on forgotten highways often refer to drivers as "motorists" in the very 1950s technical way that we still call our summer cooling devices "air conditioners".

It's really satisfying to me to be thorough, I guess. And road trips are nothing but thorough. There is no way around the hundreds of miles of sagebrush plains that is so much of the West. But instead of noticing the expanse of more of the same, I try and relish it, waiting in suspense for the land to shift and the next town to come into view. It's really great work if you can get it, but believe me, you can get it if you try.

(All photos above are from the recent trip and courtesy of the awesome Hipstamatic app and Shake it app for the iphone. Everything looks better all old-timey doesn't it?)

Words to the wiser...

It's been the kind of day where high expectations turn sour. My kids started swimming lessons at a new place and I was eager for them to recreate the kind of memories I had growing up swimming and diving on teams, making lifelong friends, enjoying the sun and the chemical smell of chlorine on brown skin and greenish hair, as well as learning a skill that has led me to a lifetime of healthy exercise and pride. Both my kids have become pretty good in the water this summer; Cleo just on the brink of figuring out freestyle and actual strokes and Flynn suddenly fully able to submerge his body and figure out how to come up for air without the choking/gagging fits that make early swimming pool adventures so freaky. So needless to say, it felt like the right moment to pull in an "expert" and take things to the next level with some lessons. Wrong. Cleo was self conscious about her new earplugs (she just had ear surgery and adenoids taken out) and complained throughout the lesson about the frigid water and the too tight googles, and Flynn, who was fine swimming before the lesson started, showing off for the teacher and everything, utterly and completely lost his shit as soon as two little boys got in screaming and crying for their moms. He was all of the sudden terrified and started crying for me and basically punching and kicking the teacher in the face for 20 minutes. My expectations once again did not match reality which led to lots of disappointed tension around these parts. And then my increasingly not so trusty Volvo conked out again putting it a wrench in plans and now I'm staring down the barrel of a $2000 repair bill that I can't afford and thinking, how did this glorious Summer Monday go so wrong?

I have a delightful best friend with an equally delightful mother who once told me years ago that she loved to clean her house because "it was the only area in her life she could control." It made sense to me then and it makes sense to me now. It made a lot of sense to me today as I seethed and anxiously wrung hands wondering what I should do with the car, with the day, with the crazy children fighting at my feet....I realized that folding laundry and doing dishes and organizing my toiletries was the only clarity I had. I don't think it made me any less grumpy, but it definitely calmed the nerves and made me feel a sense of much needed control in a world where everything was starting to feel like an aimless spinning top.

Maybe it is my semi-Mormon upbringing, or the Pioneer "put your shoulder to the wheel" genes, but I've always had trouble settling into being idle. Don't get me wrong, I still indulge very frequently in non-productivity, but it never feels as natural as I hoped or want , certainly never as guiltless. I go out on the deck at dusk to sit and watch the aspen leaves quake and all I can think of is the laundry I need to change over, or the email I need to reply to, or the fact that I didn't vacuum my car or call Grandma Great. I think idleness feels too often like indulgence in our culture and it is probably to our detriment. I once read a book called How to be Idle which I thoroughly enjoyed and would recommend, espousing the art of idleness alla Oscar Wilde--watching clouds move, taking naps, playing ukelele, coming up with delightful quips, drinking gin at midday--.and though on the face of things I love the idea of "chateau relaxo" ways of being (a phrase my once guru and boss Chrisanne coined and i dearly love) and not having an agenda, in practice, I find I end up getting depressed with myself. I think I need to have purpose in my day. I need to have goals and be able to make decisions, otherwise I become stuck. But a day like today teaches me that there is a difference in having purpose and having expectations. Purpose is having hopeful definition, a road map of sorts, expectations are plain fallacy. The world works in mysterious ways and believing that it's my way or the highway seems only to lead me to disappointment....and lots of cleaning!

i heart my main man

I'm single moming it again and I've been really missing the influence of my main man on me and on the kids. There are just some things in the parenting world that seem to naturally be a Dad's domain. In my home, Jaren reigns supreme at being the joker and inserting laughter into the house when it is most needed. He's renown for his bedtime story voices. He does "the bubble", "the westerner", "the singer" and "the robot" with equal gusto. He also cleverly inserts the kids names (or the word poopie) into just about every story we read to the endless delight of both Cleo and Flynn. We have two children who are unable to fall asleep without back tickles and since both kids are primarily used to my magic fingers they sometimes put up a fight when it is Jaren's turn to tickle their backs at bedtime. Being the genius Dad he is, he invented a game to compete; he tickles according to animal. The elephant tickle being a hard pound like big ole elephant hooves beating up and down your spine; the bumblebee brings light pinches all over the back; and the whale a big thunk from way above once and only once. His clever approach to parenting is always a delight to me and a definite delight to our kids. They are so lucky to have someone in their life who can make them smile and teach them that life is just not much fun without humor. Come to think of it, I'm pretty lucky too.

I also thank my lucky stars that I married someone who knows a thing or two about working with his hands. Jaren is a skilled craftsman in just about every respect, he can build furniture and entire kitchens for heaven's sake! But what really gets me is his ability to just get in there and figure something out, no previous experience required. He is inherently capable. In the time I've known him he's taught himself how to be a plumber, an electrician, a landscaper, an IT guy, a drywaller, a car mechanic, and a father. Pretty impressive list, no? I know not all men are created equal in the do it yourself or spatial/mechanical vein, and there is no shame in hiring out, but what a gift it is to give your family that kind of hand's on capability. I love that Flynn already knows what a socket wrench and a screw gun are. And Cleo has already swung the hammer and watched her Dad, legs sticking out from under the engine, changing the oil. They get to see their Dad being a do-er and that means something in today's culture of instant gratification. And me? I get to day dream about endless house, garden, and kids projects knowing full well who I can rope in to do the job. :)

Three cheers to Jaren and to the men out there who keep traditions and knowledge and capability alive. And just so you don't think I'm only tooting my own man's horn, check out this A-mAZING blog made by joel. Now here is a Dad making and doing all in the name of parenting and entertaining his kids. The projects are simply too awesome to be described. (Not to mention being aesthetically perfect and sophisticated.) You must go check them out for yourself.

A good capitalist

Almost regardless of where you live these days you can depend upon seeing the same brand of chain stores and restaurants springing up around you. I would guess most modern chains have a radius of 20 miles or less before they feel the need to pop up another location. It gives us as a culture a boggling array of strip mall-age, but increasingly I'm realizing it gives me a much more limited sense of choice, and an even narrower sense of personality and regionality. Having just traveled the roughly 1200 miles between Salt Lake City and Dallas, Texas it is quite bizarre to note how similar the retail offerings actually are. Newer suburbs of bigger cities are especially plagued by the chain mentality. What few local businesses may have once existed in these outposts are quickly replaced by the IHOP, the Sonic, the Olive Garden, the Walmart, the Barnes and Noble. Increasingly, even our powerhouse cities of mom and pop offerings like NYC are not immune; a friend just updated his Facebook status to say: "Walking past the new Union Square TGI Fridays. :("

I was mulling all this over because of a series of small business encounters I had today that completely made my day and felt like the antidote to corporate take over.

I am working on a little wedding flower project and I needed to source some burlap upholstery webbing for a bouquet. I consulted the oracle first (google) and saw that Walmart supposedly carried the stuff. I called the closest store and not only did the person who answered the phone have no idea what upholstery webbing was, she didn't know where to send my call within the vast store. So I, the customer, said "I don't know, maybe the sewing or home decor area?" She said "great!" and transfered me over where I proceeded to wait 5 minutes on hold and still no one ever answered the call. Frustrated, I hung up and called a little local upholstery shop I dealt with years ago. A woman picked up on the first ring and when I explained what I needed and politely asked if she'd sell the webbing to me or would be willing to point me in the direction of a supplier, she cheerfully explained that the burlap industry is in trouble and no one is able to import it right now from the Philippines where most suppliers get burlap these days. (Who knew?!) But she did give me the names of 2 local places they deal with and suggested I get on their waiting lists. She couldn't have been more knowledgeable or friendly and I hung up satisfied and happy even though I hadn't gotten any closer to getting the actual item I needed.

While I was out erranding today the check engine light on my car lit up and even though the car was driving fine, I figured I should take the light seriously and not blow the thing up like I have in the past. Ahem! We have a trusty Volvo mechanic, Herm, who has a small Volvo only independent shop and so I drove straight to him, fingers crossed. Not only did he stop what he was doing to come out and check the code on the engine to see what was wrong, he and I chatted pleasantly about life, family, and the hot heat of summer while he was doing it. It ended up to be nothing major, but it was sure nice helpful service and great peace of mind to have him take that time out of his day to help a girl out, no cash required. I highly doubt the Volvo dealership would have done the same in the less than 15 minutes it took Herm.

And finally....probably the highlight of my week and certainly my momentous for the day. Salt Lake has a lot of stores, gems really, under independent ownership and representing a very independent, quirky spirit. You have to suss them out a bit, but they are here, banners held high. One of my absolute favorite little shops is downtown on the newly hip stretch of Broadway and 200 East called Frosty Darling. The shop is a haven for unique handmade gifts and interesting art objects, but it is also the kind of place that is loose and fun enough to bring your kids and not worry that you will get the "you break it, you buy it" face when they check stuff out. Today my kids got sucked in to all the fun stuff they were surrounded by: pins, vintage candy confections, funny plushy dolls, vinyl wallets with lighting bolts, worn out in the best way metal dime store pony ride, and they were completely smitten with the idea of playing the dart toss balloon game behind the cash register. Gentry, the owner, filled up a bunch of fresh balloons and for a buck gave my kids 3 darts each to toss and attempt to pop a balloon. Neither did the deed, but both were rewarded with 4 tickets they could use to buy various old school treats like candy lipsticks, Neccos, and bubblegum cigars. It was the highlight of all our day to throw those darts and giggle and to be rewarded with an experience in the shop rather than just stuff. Cleo has already asked me twice to go back there "just for fun". Now that's my kind of retail!

I suppose the message of these anecdotes is simply that I don't want to stop having these kind of small business encounters and I definitely don't want to see our culture lose them entirely. We would be left with so little if the small shops died out completely and all that remained is the faceless glare of neon signs and parking lots, or worse the glare of the computer screen. It isn't the same to buy something from a behemoth who knows not what they sell. It feels good to support the little guy, who in turn usually supports the even littler guy, but in the end by supporting them you really are supporting a facet of culture that is endangered and needs some serious love. So go out and be the good little capitalist you were born to be, only try to spend your dough where it truly morphs into something you can hold in the palm of your hand, maybe a little something like a dart.

You are what you eat

Thanks to a very generous soon to be brother-in-law, Jaren and I scored tickets to the annual Park City Food and Wine Classic yesterday. It is a great event with hundreds of vendors offering tastes of wine, spirits, food, and treats. We indulged, and indulged some more, and had a fabulous time.

I came away boggled by the bounty and sophistication of tastes and the intensity of food culture these days. I feel really proud of the awakened state of our country's food culture. Living in a city a bit off the beaten track, I pretty much know that if the buying/eating local thing is happening here on every corner, then it is happening every where across the country. Careful consideration of what we eat and where it comes from has moved into the mainstream consciousness. It's wonderful to feel like something in our culture is heading in the right direction. Hallelujah! I wanted to give a plug for an awesome new publication here in Salt Lake City focused on the local food scene called Edible Wasatch . I was impressed with the magazine and thought it had a lot of great information about businesses, farmers, and citizens doing their part to promote healthy, sustainable food--all in all a venture very worth supporting.

In celebration of food and drink, I thought it would be fun to share a few inspirational sites I love that have food at their core.

I have to confess to a serious weakness for food styling. I love love love the blog Sunday Suppers which showcases cool chefs throwing awesome dinner parties. The photography and styling are always pitch perfect and the recipes consistently make me drool. It also entices me to want to throw a zillion parties. Dangerous!

Whenever I need a pick me up, I like to listen to a killer podcast my sister turned me on to called Good Food, a weekly radio program out of KCRW in Los Angeles hosted by the wonderful Evan Kleiman. (I'm telling you just her voice alone will cheer you. It's so snappy and happy and real.) The show is a true foodie mecca: restaurant reviews, farmer's market reports, interviews with street vendors and food purveyors of all stripes. I also really appreciate that they talk about the politics of food-the true cost of farm labor, environmental impact of what we eat and when, etc. It's a well rounded show and definitely entertaining. And downloading the podcast is FREE!

And lastly, I have never been a huge rum fan, but I am so in awe of the graphics and ad campaign behind the new spiced rum brand The Kraken that I've become a convert. It's actually super delicious stuff and the bottle label alone is reason enough to buy it and imbibe.

Cheers to mindful food and drink! Enjoy the bounty of summertime.....

p.s. photos above are from a talented food stylist named Linda Lundgren.

Inspirato: learning a new word, especially something obvious but revolutionary

Today I came across the above photo on one of the feeds I subscribe to called designboom and the caption said this: "supertramp is a micro-sized mobile living concept part of the lehman b project. lehman b is a ‘do tank’ which explores future strategies by actually doing them, like supertramp."

Reading the word DO TANK was like flipping on a light switch. Duh. How cool is the idea of a do tank rather than a think tank? Some might call it semantics, but I call it genius. The older I get the more I realize the importance of doing rather than talking, taking action versus plotting for days and days. Life is short and I think I'd rather test stuff out than figure it out. Experience usually has a way of figuring it out for you. I am so starting a DO TANK so if you area joiner, let me know.

And just to be word nerd accurate, here are the definitions of DO TANK listed on word spy:

n. A research institute that focuses on actions rather than ideas. Also: do-tank.

Do tank is the action-oriented version of a think tank (a term that dates to 1959). A not-so-surprising synonym is action tank (1987).

Don't you just love it?

inspirato: visual odes to a hot summer day

I'm a big art fan and I have grown quite fond of the site 20x200. It features amazing limited runs of original art prints for the equally amazing price of $20 bucks! There are a lot of works that I don't much care for, but I have always liked that about art too, sometimes its just plain healthy to see things from a different point of view. It's a hot summer Utah day and the 4th of July holiday weekend is upon us. I love summertime and the hot heat of a dry wind. I even love tiny beads of perspiration and raccoon eyes from too many hours with sunglasses on. And don't get me started on the nut brown beauty of my children's skin this time of year. Aye yai yai!

It's a good feeling to have nothing stretching out before you than the prospect of a cold popsicle or a trip to the ice cream truck. In that vein, I thought I'd share these two great prints featured on 20x200, Frozen by Katie Baum and Koolman Truck by Kevin Cyr-- both odes to the pleasures of a hot summer day.

P.S. I just ran across this amazing list of 50 homemade popsicle recipes....I think I've just figured out what my afternoon will consist of. Lovely!