Goodbye long weekend, hello short week! Charlie finished his first batch of home brew, got 'em all labeled up and we did a little tasting this weekend. There's an annual Labor Day Weekend festival near our house that brings out the worst in people (since when is it okay to park in a true lane in the road? Ripping up no parking signs and parking where they were temporarily placed. Kids scaling our 6 + foot fence because walking around our backyard is apparently too much trouble. . .) and makes me and the Mister seriously consider any outings before attempting them.

Naturally, there was drawing time (and a sneak peek for you of the 2009 Calendar).

This is the last week of the Handmade Kids Contest on etsy, so if you haven't, and you're feeling generous, would you kindly vote for my Fungi Poster? If you have, I'd like to thank you again. I'd hug you if it weren't for this computer screen in the way.

Also, we ripped up one veggie bed, readying the space for Lacey 6 row barley. We picked barley as a cover crop for the winter, hoping to reap the benefits of a grain over something like clover. This hopefulness seems to create a stir among the world outside our little Sweet Haven. The common consensus is that grain should be a large acreage crop, not a mere couple hundred feet worth. But we're hopeful, and ready to try a nontraditional backyard crop.
If it sounds unfathomable to you, too, check out Sunset Magazine's One Block Diet experiment. They have a Team Beer that did the same thing (on a slightly larger scale) and inspired our pick of Lacey.

Keep your fingers crossed for us, and of course we'll keep you filled in on the progress!

The summer recipes at Anson Mills have been posted, and the tortillas are definitely on my list to try. The beginning narrative is wonderful, but also makes me wonder what kind of farmer lives a "the crops have been planted so I'm sitting here at the beach house" kind of life? I would like to sign up for that life, please?

I've got 2 gallons of milk in my fridge with the name Cheddar on them. First, the cultured buttermilk must become a mesophilic culture, though.

Figuring out with to do with the red freestone peaches in my fridge. Canned for a bit of summer in the winter? Peach butter?

This past weekend we made: 6 quarts of marinara sauce, 1 quart and 6 pints of relish, and bottled 48 Sierra Nevada style pale ales. Sounds like there's a party on the horizon, huh?

And yes, there is art happening all over the place in our house, getting prepared for (read: freaking out about going to...) Renegade. But I've decided to keep all of these projects top secret. . .at least for as long as I can keep a secret because I'm not so good at keeping my own secrets.

Thank you for your kind comments as I publicly displayed my personal doubts about this trip. I'm trying to remain in check. The anxiety monster, however, hasn't been listening to self assurance. Just gotta keep doing, though, right? That's what we all do: keep trying.

And if you're so inclined for an art investment, the Old School Show at Uppercase is available online. My work is on page 2. Word on the street is, my pre-ordered copies of the show books are on their way into the US right now. I will have a few with me at Renegade for sale as well, just because it's such a rad show I think people will like it. When I say rad, I actually mean RADICAL. If you feel so inclined, you can preview it here.

In other news, I'm tired of tripping over materials in my studio, so as I get the time and motivation, they're being added to the etsy shop. So far it's just a giant roll of oilcloth, but there will be more. Oh yes, there will be lots more.

short and sweet now. later the prizes

Well, here it is, Friday, and the luster of new-found debt freedom is waning. I have thoroughly enjoyed the ideas everyone has shared this week, and will start drawing for names for door prizes soon, so look for an email or come back and check the names later on this afternoon--cause kickin' off the weekend with free stuff seems pretty dern cool, right?

In the meantime, I'm off to finish up my post for Modish today. Happy Friday, and see you back here soon!

Jason Munn's print (available through If you could do anything tomorrow, what would it be?; found via Sia Grafica) is exactly what I have in mind for the weekend. And just might have to be my next big splurge. Looks like I'll have plenty of time ahead of me to decide how lasting the design will resonate with me.

join me in a daydream, won't you?

If I were a meat eater, I'd certainly be in the mood for a beach side fish fry, of course, while listening to a couple things I'm yearning to download: Bonnie Prince Billy, sun kil moon/Mark Kozelek. A few days ago I "reheard" an Emmylou Harris/Gram Parsons duet and remembered how much I need to break out the old stuff. It's the stuff lazy beachy days are made of. Add in Blood on the Tracks, a faded wide-brimmed hat and a basket of just-this-side-of-ripe peaches and I'd melt right into the neutral backdrop I've gathered below.

Domino Magazine's slideshow of Thom Filicia's beachy home (center image).
Ikea lounge chair and rocking chair (upper left, lower right).
Groundwork's beautiful Fungi Print.
Domestic-Construction tea cup light cluster, also via Poppytalk.
I'd much more prefer a delicate hourglass to glass bouys (too much like a fried seafood restaurant for my taste); these are by Roost and available through Rian Rae, though I've seen them at Anthropologie and several other places, too.
Floating house dock: via Poppytalk via Skona hem.
Sydney based FlowerPress tea towels ready for double duty as light infusing curtains (as hankies do in my kitchen).

* * *
Perhaps this is an older daydream than I've realized? Making decisions 10 seconds ago, via Behind the Stone Door, would keep me thinking well into an afternoon nap.

If you're a gardener, perhaps you know the feeling of utter desperation brought on by the waiting of success. It starts when you look around and realize there's no more space for vegetables. Sure you can weed in the Summer heat, but the anticipation of planning, the excitement of trying new edibles, it's all long gone. L. O. N. G. G. O. N. E.

It is the dramatic pause--the deep breath of the lead singer--before the chorus begins.

Except mine seems to be doom metal or something equally dark and sinister (maybe not metal , but perhaps something worse, oh. . . say, something by someone whose name rhymes with Harris Guilton). Just so wrong, so malnourished, so spindly and problematic you want to send it to therapy.

But what sort of therapy would really be productive at this point?

I'm pretty good at preaching the law of leave it alone and don't worry so much. But dammit those squash vine borers ripped through my zucchini faster than my typing fingers could research a solution on the world wide web.

The guy at the more expensive than necessary farm supply store up the road said he just got new zucchini plants in, because this is the week everybody rips theirs out and puts new ones in. Crappity crappity. So not only have I just compared my vegetable garden to the tabloid love child of '06, but I also learned it's functioning on normalcy. It's not as magical as I like to pretend.

From Mother Earth's womb I untimely ripped the vines and roots, pulled the vines apart, searching for the villainous borers, only to find the tunnels empty. I guess that means they've already turned to moths and that next year I need to remember my little lesson on crop rotation to avoid recreating this little horror sequence.

So therein lies a question: Do I replant? Do I leave it alone? Do I go out and buy more plants to feel better and remind myself of the exciting potential of gardening? I'll let you guess. . .