Wednesday, February 27, 2008
With that bit of polite scolding last night, after I tried taking the easy way in reshelving some bowls after a wash, I came to better understand scores of husband-and-wife sitcoms. Not that she wasn't right.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
A few months ago I went to Orchard Supply to make a copy of my car key for Chris and I walked out of the store with three houseplants. Having no prior (indoor or outdoor) gardening experience, one can imagine how they are surviving under my care: Not well.
At first I thought I might be over-watering them, since most of their water drained through the soil and ended up in the clay saucer. So I cut back from daily watering to twice weekly. They have since turned brown on the edges and look very sad. The two that are doing the worst are ferns of some sort (one is a maiden hair fern, the other unidentifiable to the best of my Internet search efforts).
So from here on out I am trying my best to revive them. After reading up on ferns, I think the problem might be not enough humidity. In most climates, the average amount of moisture in the air would be fine but apparently not in the bone dry Bay Area. Martha Stewart suggests propping the pots up on small stones and leaving some water in the saucer to help stimulate the humidity. I think I will also try lightly spritzing them with a spray bottle. Fascinating stuff I know, but if any of our friends and family have prior fern knowledge, bring it on. As you can see below, they could use all the help they can get.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Our Valentine's Day
Our Valentine's Day last week included exchanging cards, sweets, and gifts in one form or another (mine in the digital form of this blog, while Chris opted to present me with several books perfectly spanning my DIY interests plus the newly traditional relationship book). Still, the pleasant surprise was Chris's plan for us to venture a few blocks over to the San Jose Museum of Art, where they're currently displaying the works of Goya's Caprichios and a more interesting exhibition of late etching by Picasso.
The etchings were minimal but I think we were both impressed with his ability to create something so spatially involved, intricate, and clever from what at first (untrained) glance looks like nothing more than entertaining doodles. I had first been captivated with the works of Picasso upon seeing La Guernica in Madrid and later a larger collection at the Museu Picasso in Barcelona. A reaction I found surprising because it was triggered by an artist whose images have been exhausted in pop culture. That said, I always think the genius of his skill hits you when you see it in person.
Amateur art review aside, we enjoyed ourselves and in an attempt to bring a little art history to our lives, began reading A Life of Picasso. Chris heard that this four volume biography about the artist was not only interesting but well written. I'm four chapters in and he seems to be right.
Here are some of the other things we enjoyed that day:
Friday, February 15, 2008
You Used to Sit in the Cube Behind Me
It all started, innocently enough, when I used to sit in the cube behind you. Even though my memories have been enhanced since hearing your side of things, I like to think of those days as you stealing glances of me at my desk or me eagerly awaiting a message from you about the latest in British pop music.
Office flirtations aside, we really began the night I met you on a bench. "Our bench" is how we refer to it now. I came strolling through campus and you were sitting there in your Converse and baseball cap waiting for me. We went to a bar and after walked around downtown San Jose, presumably so we wouldn't have to end the evening. After hours of talking in my living room (I love that you are a natural communicator), long after any other date would have ended, you peeled yourself off my roommate's couch and went home. That night began a string of similarly lengthy (in a wonderful way) dates. We joke about it now but I'm pretty sure it took you something like 14 hours on one of those dates before you worked up the nerve to kiss me.
The thing is we never tired of each other. Never needed our space. I just wanted to be in the same room as you and, likewise, you never seemed to get enough of me.
I spent a lot of time during those first few months waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the first blow out fight, for you to see the real me and decide you didn't like her. But none of those things ever happened.
Parents were met. Vacations taken. Apartment shared. I've loved and continue to love every bit of it.
I love all the little, nonsensical nicknames you give me (*Boo, Confection, Sprite, Jenkins; what do they even mean?). I love that you'll watch MTV reality shows meant for 16-year-olds at two in the morning (Namely, The Hills). I love that you find the need to categorize everything in an adorably O.C.D.-like way ("If you could only get three magazines for the rest of your life, which would you choose?"). I love you.
So why a blog? I suppose it's because I want to pick something to write about, to put out there, and stick with it. The only absolute in my life right now, the one constant I want to stick with is you. Plus, the romantic in me thinks there is enough snark out and not nearly enough sap. I'm hoping like everything else we do this will be a collaboration. This is about my favorite topic: Us.
I used to sit in the cube behind you. Then I didn't. And then we fell in love.
reading Lorrie Moore
reading Paper Lion
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