Christmas and Thankfulness

by fashion illustration goddess, Katie Rodgers, via PaperFashion

Thinking of my friends and family, near and far today. I am happy happy happy today, and hoping that everyone is enjoying their Christmas mornings.

It's still the early hours of Christmas, but we all know that the height of the season comes just before the presents are ripped open and the tree's base becomes barren. Mugs are full of hot coffee, breakfast is cooking, and we're slowly making our way towards opening gifts.

The best time of the holiday for me, always.

I've been pretty absent during this last quarter of 2012, but I had to let everyone know...

I love you. I wish we could celebrate today and enjoy the last days before the new year together.

Kiss your loved ones today. Cherish your gifts, and relish if the generosity of others.

Be thankful.

I thank you.

x

Pure Imagination

by Gregory Colbert, via

My cousin, Eli, told me a story once about a pet elephant he kept in his jacket pocket. The elephant was no taller than his thumb. He tried taking this elephant onto an airplane, which was fine until he got onto the plane and at 32,000 feet, the elephant stealthily climbed out of his jacket pocket and started exploring the plane, right over everyone's bags and wadded-up coats. It was an hour before my cousin realized his pet elephant was gone, and had to figure out a way to find him without alerting the entire plane. He didn't want his elephant to get crushed or scared and run off and hide, he'd told me. He got up from his seat by the airplane window and walked to the front of the plane towards the cockpit, turned around and dropped a quarter down the long aisle. He fell to his knees, apologized, and started looking for his quarter -- actually, his pet elephant. I never found out if my cousin had found his elephant, because my mom said dinner was ready.

Eli was five when he told me this story. Not with the same, advanced vocabulary, but the plot went just like that. I was 17, in the middle of writing the play for a high school choir performance, and I remember thinking:

I've never in my conscious life come up with anything remotely as mesmerizing as this.

This wasn't because what he'd said was overly imaginative, but rather it was the ease with which he told the story. It was all about delivery. It wasn't a story to him; it had actually happened, yet I could see the cogs working behind his eyes -- never faltering, stopping only for a moment to think when I'd ask him what happened next. I stared at him like he was an amoeba growing legs. I looked at his mother, my Aunt Julie, and silently pleaded with her to give me some explanation. Was this a story he'd read? Had he seen a miniature elephant on TV? She shook her head, simply. No idea, she said with her eyes.

I'm not very good with kids, and I find myself bored with them easily. I don't like playing or pretending, and I certainly don't like to stop what I'm doing and go out of my way to entertain them...

On the other hand, I love listening to them. Their imaginations fascinate me, and the way they see the world is exquisite. I love asking questions and finding out more. Their lack of filters and their self-assuredness means there is no cap on what they can come up with. They don't concern themselves with what other people will think, or whether their stories and ideas will stand up to someone else's.

It's sad that most kids lose that freedom. I certainly did, that is, assuming I ever had it. I'd like to think I did, and that it's still inside me somewhere, locked away. I'm in such awe of adults to seem to have maintained that level of imagination and confidence. That's the key, I think.

My cousin is 14 now, and I told him this story over Thanksgiving dinner. He, of course, doesn't remember it, and is at that age now where rolling your eyes at everything is the jammiest of jams. He thought it was silly.

Jump Up and Touch the Sky

I know shit-all about music. Really, I know nothing, except what I like when I hear it. I couldn't tell you, from a technical or musical perspective, why I like it. All I know is that if a song is catchy / the lyrics are beautiful / a person's singing voice is top-notch / it makes me wanna dance / makes me wanna jump up and down like a monster, I'm probably going to enjoy it and play it to death.

Sometimes, I just want to play the same three songs on repeat, all day for a few weeks, because they infuse me with energy and fuel my imagination. Sometimes, I just want to imagine that I'm a rock star and smash up furniture.

What's playing now?

I'm glad you asked. (And if you didn't, let's pretend you did.)

The holidays make me tired, and it's the time of year when I'm usually listening to Rufus Wainwright and Norah Jones. Rainy days, gray skies... they lead to lazy day music. The kind where you turn off the lights, pour some red wine, lay on the floor surrounded by pillows and blankets, and play Rufus' "Poses" album over and over again.

It's not very conducive to getting work done.

How about you? Do you have any get-off-your-butt-and-start-moving-you-fat-pig music? Any particular songs that are just too infectious to stay still?

Send 'em my way. I'm itching to break something.

I Missed November

Illustration by Harry Clarke for Edgar Allen Poe, via

I've made a conscious effort to avoid this blog during the last almost-two months, and I've felt only the tiniest twinge of guilt about it. Basically, I needed a hiatus from thinking about the "blog-worthy," and instead focus on some important things going on around here right now. Sometimes "important" has meant cleaning the toilet, finally folding that pile of clothes on the guest bed, cuddling with Ennis, or having long talks with my manlier-half over white wine and tacos. Every time I thought about writing or posting, it seemed forced; instead of forging ahead, I let myself walk away.

I don't know what this blog is, exactly, but whatever it is means—at minimum—it needs to be about the things most important to me in that particular moment. I've worked pretty diligently to not categorize myself, mainly because I am so prone to change my mind, or lose interest. Being a bit of an over-sharer has dictated much of my adult life in relation to the internet, and has proven that I refuse to let there be any subject that I'm forced to avoid for fear of being "off topic." If I eat a delicious bagel, go to Hawai'i, build a daybed, buy a kitten, or covet craft goods, I want to tell you. Because I love you, and that's what friends do.

That being said, I'm learning a bit more about restraint with my honesty. Not everything is worth sharing. I don't mean the hard/intense things, or the small/sometimes boring things. Just things. The stuff that is personal and private, but also insignificant in the long term. It's not about being interesting, but having true interest and passion in what you write and do.

Look 'ma, I'm growing up!

Simply put, I'm interested in finding my true home in this HTML-corner of internet-paradise that I've built, with its crooked windows and slant-y floors. It will take some time and some reflection on my part to make it a haven of comfort—a place that I enjoy and relish in—rather than something I constantly avoid... much like my actual living room, which is in desperate need of a thorough vacuuming.

The holidays are in our midst, and I'm thinking of my friends scattered across the map, all of whom I miss dearly. Let's get together and have some mulled wine or margaritas or whatever else the weather is permitting that day.

New York City Vacation

Beginning the descent into New York, clouds from above

I didn't take a lot of pictures when I went on vacation at the end of June. Strange, because I certainly had the opportunity; I brought my Canon camera with its two fancy lenses, and had my cell phone camera on me nearly the entire time. I'd like to think the reason for not capturing everyone we saw, everything we did, and everywhere we went was because I was just having too much fun to think about it. When I did take pictures, it felt like I was forcing myself. I wanted to have fun instead.

That may be forced thinking, but I stand by it, if for no other reason than there isn't much I can do about the lack of photos I came home with. I can, however, talk about how we spent seven wonderful days exploring, eating, and drinking our way through Brooklyn and Manhattan with friends.

Our last vacation together, Jon and I were completely on our own; no friends to keep us company and break up the monotony. This time was an entirely different experience. Our "home base" was the perfect little apartment of one of my dearest and oldest friends, Jessie, and her photographer boyfriend, Joe. (I have to pimp out his sites, since he's amazing. Here's one of my favorite shots of his, from a trip to Turkey; I'm a little bit obsessed.)

With Jessie and Joe as our guides, it really set the stage for an ideal "local" experience; if these two were the only ones we knew in New York and we had never left Brooklyn at all, it would have been just as incredible of a trip. Needless to say, they were the most gracious hosts with a keen sense of how to embrace debauchery with the utmost care and maturity. We're adults in our late-twenties now, after all.



Admittedly, there was a bit of lounging about. New York doesn't mess around with its humid summers, so Jon and I took advantage of our air conditioned homebase whenever we could; returning to Jessie and Joe's after a half-day of exploring, covered in an aura of city grime, was like Heaven. It was comfortable and relieving.

Did I mention they were fantastic hosts?

Our first day in the city, we had two things on our agenda: eat the corned beef and pastrami on rye with Russian dressing and coleslaw from Katz's Deli ( a must-try after seeing it featured on Adam Richman's "Best Sandwich in America") and explore the Museum of Modern Art.

Left: Monet (top), __ (bottom)

Right: Picasso (top), Picasso (bottom)

I've developed an intense love for Picasso. On paper he never really stood out to me, but seeing his work in person... well, there's been no artist like him ever, has there?

I won't go into boring detail about all of my favorite paintings from the museum like I normally would. There's just too much as it is... I'll just have to assure you that there were some amazing ones that captivated me. Perhaps I'll do a separate post to showcase them, so I don't forget. In exchange, though, here's a huge Monet:



It was drizzly outside, which was a nice reprieve from the heat. We waited Downtown for Jessie to get off work, then went to see a new play reading put on by a small company called Fresh Produce'd in which my dear friends Shannon and Starr were performing. (They were wonderful, as were the scenes showcased from the new plays.)

This is where I become surprised at how many people I know who live in New York.

One of my favorite girls on earth, Alex (henceforth: Gell) joined us for the reading, as did one of Jon's best friends, Lukas. Afterwards, the group of us trekked down 9th Ave to a bar big enough to hold us all, where we proceeded to catch up and drink many over-priced, mediocre cocktails. No matter though. The company was divine. (So far, all of the people I've mentioned in this post—save for Joe—went to UC Santa Barbara, though he did go to school in SB. You following me?) After a while, another dear UCSB friend, Sarah, joined the gathering and it turned into an unexpectedly wonderful ultra-mini-reunion.

Seeing all these girls, many of whom I hadn't seen since graduating four years ago, at the same time was a blast. There's never enough time to catch up. There is, however, always time to be really, really silly.

L-R: Gellner, Sarah, Shannon, Starr, me, Jessie

On Friday, Jessie took the day off of work to show us around the part of Manhattan that in three previous trips I'd never been before, most notably: "Ground Zero," or the site of the 9/11 terrorist attacks.

Jessie planned everything in advance (God bless her), so we were all set to see the recently-opened 9/11 memorial fountains and grounds. Security was crazier than any airport I've been to, but given the circumstances, I can't blame them.

It really was a spectacular sight. The sheer size of the fountains (which represent the original "footprints" of the Twin Towers) was astonishing, and despite the crowd of tourists, I found it to be a very peaceful place.



We spent the rest of the day on the lower west side of the city, walking along the water to see the boat docks, and grabbing lunch at PJ Clarke's on the Hudson where we could eat outside but stay dry and watch the summer rain.

A few glasses of wine at lunch started off the theme of the afternoon and subsequent evening: alcohol and good company. I've never met a happy hour I didn't like.

Drudging through rain and doing my best to admire the cobblestone streets of the West Village, we hurried along the edge of the city and found ourselves in what, I believe, is Jon's new favorite bar: The Rusty Knot, just south of the New School for Drama. It's a kitschy, tiki bar and we arrived just as happy hour got started. Well drinks were 2-for-1 (which meant $4 for two drinks -- a huge difference from their normal pricing), and they were delicious. (If you haven't had a conversation with me about the delicacy of making basic yet high-quality well drinks, then bring me some Maker's Mark and Coke Zero and we'll discuss this over a [dozen] drink[s].)

We stayed at The Rusty Knot, chatting away and watching the fish tank, until the rain cleared up. Then -- not at all drunkenly -- we moseyed up to The Jane Hotel to meet Joe and enjoy far more expensive craft cocktails.

You can't not love the bar at The Jane, despite the $14 cocktails. It's luxurious and open, elegant and very "adult." Jessie told us that this spot was popular with celebrities and the New York City elite -- fancy!

After that, we walked up to The High Line towards the Meatpacking District to a converted warehouse to see the hugely popular play, Sleep No More -- an interactive, 30's-era adaptation of Macbeth. It's hard to explain in words (I didn't know anything about the show before seeing it), but if you're interested in theatre and aren't familiar with it, take a look at this YouTube video to get an idea. (I very much wish I had watched it before going to the show.)

Sleep No More, Macbeth and Lady Macbeth // photo credit: Sara Krulwich for The New York Times

Joe, Jessie, Jon, and I -- hidden behind our masks -- were split up and sent into the "McKittrick Hotel" to explore and follow the story as we discovered it. I caught some great sequences (Macbeth murdering Duncan, for instance, and pregnant Lady Macduff doing a sensuous and beautiful contemporary dance with Macduff), but -- as I found out later -- I missed some pretty bad-ass moments: a nude Lady Macbeth in a bathtub, washing blood off of her body; a dance-tastic rave sequence which featured someone in a ram head; and a finale which showcased Macbeth's hanging, lifeless body.

I was already in the lobby enjoying a Manhattan when everyone else watched the show end. I had wandered and explored and enjoyed it very much, but after 2 1/2 hours, I wasn't sure what else to see. I'd love to go again, this time understanding the need to follow the actors (Macbeth would be the best choice) all the way through, and then eventually move on to someone else.

If you have the chance to go, do it. It's amazing, and a truly unique experience. Just remember to do your research beforehand...

Sleep No More, the Ballroom // photo credit: Sara Krulwich for The New York Times

The next morning I was, err, how do you say it... hungover, just a wee bit. I remember a painful-yet-necessary walk from Jessie and Joe's apartment to Prospect Park to have a picnic and sleep it off relax in the shade. The day was as lovely as a day could be when you feel like your brain is trying to squeeze out through your eyeballs.

On Sunday, we discovered the beauty of the pricier side of Brooklyn -- meeting my good friend, Reynosa, for brunch at Vinegar Hill House in (yep) Vinegar Hill, near D.U.M.B.O. This little restaurant was nestled on the quaintest little street; it was delicious, rustic, totally hipster, and mildly overpriced, which means I loved it. It reminded me of brunch in Seattle, and that's never a bad thing.

Soon after brunch we all parted ways; Jessie and Joe went home, Jon met up with his friend, Lukas, and Reynosa and I wandered around the neighborhood towards the Manhattan and Brooklyn Bridges, and just chatted about life and work and love. It was a stunning afternoon..




Sunday proved to be the only time I could see my dear old friend, Chris Kong -- who is a wildly talented piano player. He was subbing at Silence! the Musical, a parady of Silence of the Lambs. Jon and I ventured to Hell's Kitchen in Manhattan for dinner and to see the show, which was... ridiculous and funny and weirdly enjoyable. Granted, I likely would have found it even funnier if I'd... you know... seen the full movie before. (Don't judge me.) The best part was that it featured cutie-pie, Randy Harrison, of "Queer as Folk" fame, so I couldn't have hated it even if I wanted to.

Afterwards Chris showed us his fancy Mid-Town condo, which was so perfectly Chris, and I marveled at the horrifying thought of living that close to Times Square.

I'm having heart palpitations just thinking about it.



The last few days of our trip, we rode the Metro, explored, and enjoyed spending time with our New York friends.

We visited Reynosa to see her apartment in Bed-Stuy and have lunch with her at a great little soul food spot, Maggie Brown, before she started work in Clinton Hill. We braved the heat and humidity to have Happy Hour with Starr and Jessica, catching up after far too many years of interacting only on Facebook. We met up with Gellner and her boyfriend, Chris, at The Grey Dog in Union Square for brunch, then ventured back to Brooklyn to see her apartment and grab a pint in Park Slope while gossiping about Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson's scandalous break up. We ate an incredible meal with Jessie and Joe at their favorite local spot, Lot 2, where Jon had the most delicious hamburger either of us have ever tasted.

Lots of food. Lots of friends. Is there a better way to spend vacation?

I wish we'd had more time to just relax with Jessie and Joe at their apartment and around their little sliver of Brooklyn. Maybe one more weekend dedicated just to that. I wish I could join them every once in a while after a hard day's work, grab two slices of pizza at Luigi's Pizza and enjoy the meal alongside a craft cocktail (or four) at Quarter Bar down the street. I wish I could meet Jessie on Saturday mornings at Southside Coffee for iced coffee, quiche, and very important gossip.

I miss being part of a neighborhood, like we had in Seattle, with access to a never-ending menu of restaurants, bars, and coffee shops, and walking distance to friends. Old Towne Orange isn't bad -- we're lucky to have some great spots around here -- but there's no one close by.

All in all, it was an amazing vacation. It's taken me over two months to finally get it all down, but I forgive myself. This time.

Anyone have any favorite spots in New York? Someplace, maybe, I should put on my list for next time?

Meet Shug

Say hello to the newest member of the Johnstone-Hyatt household. This is Shug.



We're the stupidest for getting another animal. We're also stupid in love with her.

We adopted her, rather spontaneously, last Tuesday. Long story short: Ennis got sick, which took me back and forth three times to the Orange-Olive Veterinary Hospital, where in the lobby there were two cages of kittens available for adoption.

Each time I waited to see the doctor, I sat next to her cage and watched her play with the other kittens, and each time I fell a little more in love. I didn't even notice the other kittens; just her. She was special, I could tell. I couldn't ignore it.

To my astonishment, after joking about surprising him with a kitten, Jon wasn't totally against the idea. On my 3rd trip to the vet, he came along. We bought her right then and there.



One of the things that stood out about her is her syndactyly back paw. (Can you see it above in that photograph?) It's not super noticeable, but I did see it while I was getting to know her in the vet waiting room. We've since found out that she was the last remaining in her litter and a complete love-bug, but most people had passed on adopting her because of her back foot with only one little toe.

Well, it certainly didn't bother us, and more importantly, it doesn't seem to bother her at all. In fact, she's about twice as active, playful, quick, and strong as Fry was when we got him at 5 months old. (She's about 4 months old, according to the vet.)

She's the cuddliest and Ennis already gives her lots of kisses.



I would have posted about her sooner, but I didn't want to announce her until we'd settled on a name. It was actually really hard for us to decide on something, unlike with my previous animals. We went through innumerable options, taking an entire day to play around with our favorites to see if anything stuck. Many beautiful, girly, character-appropriate names came to mind (I'm a fan of naming animals after characters from literature, film, or television - see Ennis, Fry, and Peekay), but nothing felt right.

After looking through every bit of mythology we could think of, lists of constellations, most of the books and movies in our bookcase, and even getting some amazing lit-focused help from Kait, I had found many I loved, but nothing that fit our little gray girl.

Then The Color Purple came to mind (we'd already decided to get her a purple collar after originally planning to call her Leela as a companion for Fry) and I thought of Shug Avery, the assertive friend/lover of the book's heroine, Celie. We both love the movie, and I'm a big fan of the book and musical. We tested it out all day on Friday and... it worked. Sure, it's not as pretty as Katsa, Prynne, Echo, Lyra, or Petra (a few other favorites of mine after Leela), but we found it was easier to say and perfectly suited to her rambunctious attitude and imperfections. Plus, Shug is simply an amazing character. (I've been singing this song for days now.)

We're so smitten for this kitten.

Expect to see more pictures of her as time goes on. I've tried tirelessly for days to get a decent one of her with Fry, but she doesn't hold still for long. She's so, so tiny compared to him. We're excited for her to grow and for them to become best buds. Fry already plays with her and washes her face, though, I admit, he isn't completely thrilled at her presence.

Oh, animals. They're the best.


*Images property of The Sleepy Peach

A Family of Democrats Make Their Plea

Disclaimer: The below messages are not meant to be objective journalism, nor are they aimed at changing the minds of Republican voters. These words are geared toward current Obama supporters and moderates who are, perhaps, feeling a little too confident in the State of the Race, or who maybe even feel let down by the current administration.



I have an amazing family. We're normal, everyday, middle-class people without a lot of money, resources, connections, or power. We fight hard, debate hard, and love hard. I'm proud to say that, at the bottom of it all, we have huge hearts, with a sense of compassion and Grace instilled in us by my incredible mother, Lou, and father, Chuck (or "Pastor Chuck" as he is known to his Methodist congregation). I could write a book on what my parents mean to me, but it is their passion for doing what is right, what is good, and what is just that brings me here.

In two months, the United States will return to the voting booths to (hopefully) re-elect their Commander in Chief, Barack Obama. One of the things that frightens me, however, is this sense of calm that seems to have taken over many of my fellow Democrats and liberals, who view President Obama's opponent as weak and even disliked within his own Party... "Good thing Romney doesn't have a shot of winning!" they proclaim. But the threat is very, very real.

Recent polls indicate that not only does the Romney/Ryan ticket have a real chance of winning key battleground states (Ohio, Wisconsin, Virginia, New Hampshire), he is gaining momentum in Florida and, some believe, he might actually win it easily. This isn't good. You all remember what happened the last time the Republicans took Florida...

This is a plea from not only me, but from my family. We're not trying to change your minds (in all honesty, this is not a place for debate; if you are in support of a Romney/Ryan White House, then nothing anyone can say will likely change your mind)... we are, quite simply, trying to light a fire under your ass if you are feeling complacent in your support of Barack Obama. Those of you who hold the same dreams as my family need to understand:

Next January could be the beginning of a road that leads to losing many of the freedoms and rights that we all but take for granted if Romney wins this November. It could mean taking a social and civil step back two whole generations.

Friends, the call is coming from inside the house.

My father recently sent out this email to friends and family, about a week before the convention began. I'd like to share it with you here, followed by a response and call-to-action, written by my sister, Kim, which she sent to a group of her close friends. What you're reading now, is my attempt to continue spreading the word.

I know it's long, but I hope you'll take the time. No more complacency.

*  *  *  *  *



Dear family and friends ...

What can I say?! We are on the cusp of a Republican Convention where distortion and lies will dominate the speaking and an effort to turn the country back to the last administration, if not the 19th or 18th centuries, will be on full display. Women -- back in the closet! Minorities, the poor, and the elderly? Many of you can forget about those voting rights! The safety net -- you are on your own! And if you're old or soon-to-be, here's a coupon; now go find some insurance! If you are gay -- forget it, you aren't really loved by God or of any real value!

This is the most radical pair we have ever seen run for President and Vice President. They bow at the feet of corporate greed, capitalistic laissez-faire gods, and Ayn Rand. (I'm still trying to figure out how you can have Ayn Rand as your hero [heroine?] and model for your beliefs, but still be a professing Catholic? I must have missed that part of the Gospel where the rich, young ruler came to Jesus and asked, "What must I do to inherit eternal life?" and Jesus responded, "Take all of your riches and hoard them to yourself, avoid all taxes that might be used to help the unwashed masses and regard those who are poor as undeserving of God's love or yours." Which Lord does Ryan swear allegiance to?)

(I almost miss W and Cheney! You have to work hard for me to reminisce about the good old days of 2001-8 ... but we'll be longing for 'compassionate conservatism' if the R and R duo is victorious...)

I have not always been happy with the decisions, or lack of decisions, made by President Obama over the past three and a half years. Maybe you're discouraged by many things, too. But it's important to remember that there has been much accomplished in spite of every effort by the President's enemies to destroy him. Where would we be with a President McCain and Vice President Palin? I shudder to think how they would have dealt with a spiraling, out-of-control economy, a disappearing car industry, a broken health care system, Osama bin Laden, and challenges of foreign policy! I am thankful we have a President who can think, is respectful of others and a great family man, and who has assembled a team of excellent public servants (look at his Cabinet and Supreme Court choices!), despite dealing with the worst economy since the Great Depression and the most worthless Congress I've seen in my lifetime.

This modern Republican Party is obsessed with contraceptive rights and birther conspiracies, and is doing its best to hit the brakes on every move toward economic improvement -- for no other reason than that they hate Obama, his politics, his color, and the future where they see decades of progressive hopes being realized when power slips through their greedy fingers.

But... the real danger is complacency and a sense of being overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of money that the super-rich, who live for nothing but making another buck, are pouring into this campaign. Look at the cast of characters who are not just running the asylum (who seem to represent the newest version of the Republican Party... Where did my parent's Republican party go?!? I wonder...), but also those folks behind the scenes, spending unfathomable sums of their wealth to turn the levers of power over to those who will do their bidding.

If you aren't inspired by the hope that an Obama-Biden ticket can offer our future for energy independence, health care, education, the rights of women, a Supreme Court that is balanced, compassion for the poorest among us, and a sense of human decency, then maybe you can be driven by fear of what kind of country a Romney-Ryan Administration will give us: a push for criminalizing abortion even in cases of incest and rape; a push for greater defense spending at the expense of fairness in tax policy; at least one or two Supreme Court appointments in the next four years that will set the Court far Right for the next 40 years; enormous tax give-aways to the wealthy, while every budget area that helps education and student loans, health care, safety and food protection, food stamps for the poor, clean air, any energy approach that isn't big oil, continued inattention to failing infrastructure, and on and on, is cut to nearly nothing.

[...] The reporters and pundits will look at the numbers of people who contributed during this month for both campaigns, and where will we stand? As Democrats, we can't ever compete with billionaires who will spend all that they can to defeat Obama, simply because they hate him and everything he represents . Well, he represents me, and represents you.

We can still put money into supporting people whose vision and character you respect. Please, spread the word and encourage your friends and family to remember that elections have real results and consequences. Take some time to help wake them up!

I'm not going to wake up on Wednesday, November 7th and ask myself why I didn't contribute what I could to have the country that I want, or why I didn't write an email like this one to those I hope will join me to see another four years of hope, and, at the very least, a possibility for 'change' ... a change that looks ahead instead of backward.

Okay, that's enough from me. Join the Johnstone household and help donate! You can make your contribution by going here: OBAMA/BIDEN 2012

Please, encourage your family and friends to put their resources, however modest, to join you in helping keep our country and the future for our children focused on something positive, hopeful, and compassionate. Beat back against the forces of hate, ignorance and selfishness.

Blessings,

Chuck

*  *  *  *  *

Hello Friends!

While I may be getting a bit of a late start here [...] I got an email this morning from my very impassioned Father, and it's lit a much-needed fire under me to start taking action...

The election is a mere 2 months away, and I know that many of you have different beliefs and priorities for what you want to see happen within our government over the next four years... But I know, for a fact, that NONE OF YOU want to see the progress our country has made over the past 5 decades stripped away -- including women's rights, the rights of gays, lesbians, and transgendered, and that of the poor, the elderly, the young, the sick, and the struggling. And that is just the tip of the iceberg.

A Romney/Ryan triumph is a frightening prospect that many of us may not be taking too seriously. After all, Mitt Romney seemed to be such an unpopular candidate, even among his own party! Right? The idea that these two could be victorious during this coming election may seem absurd, but the truth of the matter is that many Conservatives on the Far [Far Far] Right -- driven by fear and an unfounded hatred of President Obama -- are rising up to stand alongside these two, who may have the most conservatively extreme ideals we've ever seen in a National election, and that they may pull ahead to win is a very real possibility. What stands between that and a Democratic victory is simply complacency on our part.

I entreat everyone to do what they can, inspire their friends and family to take this election seriously, and even donate to the Obama/Biden cause. I, personally, don't have a lot to give financially, but I'm still contributing a small sum. I'm also doing what's in my power to spread the word to my closest friends (you guys!), and hope you will do that same. Write your own letters of support and forward to the people in your life who may feel likewise -- or may not have decided yet at all!

For everyone who actually read this message, THANK YOU...

I love you all. OBAMA/BIDEN 2012!!

Kim

*  *  *  *  *

I sit here the day after the Democratic National Convention, and my mind is racing with different ideas, emotions, and arguments. I'm inspired by the thoughtful, well-informed, and uplifting speeches given by the DNC speakers, most notably rock star and FLOTUS, Michelle Obama; the man with the most succinct argument against the Romney/Ryan plan I've yet to hear, Maryland Representative, Chris Van Hollen; Massachusetts Senate nominee and my new favorite grandmother, Elizabeth Warren; victim-of-the-Right and all-around bad ass feminist, Sandra Fluke; screen beauty and Obama campaign supporter, Kerry Washington; former president and improvising orator, Bill "Photographic Memory" Clinton; and, of course, our Commander-in-Chief, President Barack Obama. 

Around this time every four years, since 1992—when my father held our first election party for Bill Clinton who was running for President against George H.W. Bush (I realized that same night how much I loved to eat black olives off my fingertips; I was 6-years-old)—I start to feel this same level of anxiety. This anxiety does not stem from an irrational "end of the world" fear. Please; we're all adults here. Sure, it can feel like that (especially this year, when our civil liberties find themselves hanging by a thread), but realistically I know that no matter who is president, God willing, I'll survive to see another election. Most of us will survive, no matter whose politics you support.

But I remember the disappointment of 2000, when I had to cross out a blue Florida on our giant color map (it was my job that year to color in which party won which state), upon hearing that it was actually "too close to call," then waiting for hours (days!) only to find out that Florida would not return to blue... I remember 2004, sitting alone in darkness of my freshman dorm room, my Republican roommate already sleeping soundly, as I refreshed, refreshed, refreshed the election results on my laptop, only to find out that yes, we would be getting four more years of President Bush.

And then came 2008. I was older, I was more informed, and I was passionate about this presidential nominee. Barack Obama had inspired me, as he did millions of others. I saw a young Robert F. Kennedy in him, as I still do today—a big heart, with smart plans and a smart team, and good intentions that will make an enormous difference in history. Planning for this election party was a blast; there were Michelle Obama's shortbread cookies, deep dish Chicago pizza, and Chicago-style hotdogs... My father had spent countless hours volunteering and making phone calls; he had donated significant amounts of money to Obama's campaign—easily more than he really could have afforded.

The joy that erupted in our house that night, which was full of 20 friends and family members, when CNN announced an Obama/Biden victory is, honestly, one of the most memorable moments thus far in my adult life. Why? Because it had all mattered so, so much to my family; as active supporters, we felt as if we'd earned that victory.

Every election has taught me something very valuable: You have to invest in the things that matter to you. It doesn't happen on its own, it doesn't happen over night, and it certainly doesn't come for free.

This is me and my family asking you to step up; to get fired up and ready to go.

Don't wait. This matters. It all matters. No matter the candidate you support, if what happens in this country matters to you, then invest. Just like how we must invest in our economy to create the world we want, so must we invest in our leaders.

If you managed to read this far, thank you.

See you on election day.



Psst... Once again, you can donate here!

*Image sources: 1. Pet Lovers for Obama Facebook Page; 2. Etsy shop, Amanda Kindregan; 3 & 4. Barack Obama Facebook page; 4. Zimbio 'European Best Pictures of the Day - Sept 6 2012'

It Always Happens This Way

Every year, the end of summer brings with it a uniquely familiar laziness; a heavy sleep and slow pace brought on by too many heat-stricken days. Our senses remember this annual dance as we unconsciously adapt—physically, mentally, emotionally—to the next phase. The year begins, always, with the weary exposition of a frigid winter, encouraging us to move with anxious feet through the refreshing rhythm of bright spring mornings and bursts of color in rebirth. We're fully awake now, which means that the journey can really begin. The livelihood of summer is paved with unstructured activity and anticipated busyness, always pulling, never ceasing. Then, as promised, the heightened energies of summer build to their inevitable climax, sending us full of tired relief into the denouement of cooler, welcomed, autumn nights.

Our internal watch keeps accurate time; it knows the signs of passing seasons, made obvious by changes in weather and light and smells in the air. No matter the difference in our lives from year to year, this friendly, built-in timeline remains constant. It is a comfort.

The calendar may not say so, but summer is drawing to a close. That is, the "summer" that lasts from mid-June to Labor Day and is full of neighborhood adventures, chlorine-soaked hair, and afternoons spent napping on the living room sofa.



In those days and weeks before school begins, as the high of summer is beckoned back to its den, we take every opportunity we can to blissfully doze through unhurried reading sessions... no matter how old we are. It helps not to have a job, of course. Ah, to be in school again...

It is my favorite time of year, the weeks when summer turns to autumn. This week marks the first part of that phase, and it is now that nostalgia has the strongest hold on me—when I lose myself in daydreams and mental bursts of images, moments, smells, and sounds from the past. There is a strange masochism that comes with cherished memories of being young... of being someone so incomplete.

Though it's been years since I've experienced the transition from unbridled childhood freedom to regimented responsibility, my body doesn't forget. It might explain why these recent busy weeks of work have left me drained and aching for those last days of rest, some calm before the scholastic storm. Yes, my work will continue as it has been; the approaching autumn will not alter my routine.

I will sit at my desk and plug away from 8-5 in the comfort of my home. I will cook dinners and share drinks with my love, feeling old but happy in our insistence to stay in and watch movies, escaping to Tara, the Australian Outback, or the prison cells of England. I will explore this world and decorate my life with limited funds.

I will play with, laugh at, and love my dog for reminding me what it feels like to be unconditionally adored.



Still... all the while I will remember the soccer practices under cloud kingdoms and the distinct smell of childhood autumn, where the scent of wet grass and dry leaves meet. I'll remember the first days in a new desk at the start of a new school year, and the amnesia that comes from a summer of abandon: children who were once so anxious to leave the classroom always return with a joy and passion for new-found knowledge... and school supplies.

Autumn approaches and I once again get this way. Nostalgic, full of longing yet comforted by contentment. Perhaps I'll write about it every year, just one more cog in the clockwork of seasons. Perhaps I'll write about it every year to try and capture the complex feelings and memories linked to summer's end. Perhaps I'll write about it every year until I get it right.


*Images property of The Sleepy Peach

I Bought Things

Remember what I said last week about being patient? Turns out, I'm terrible at being patient. Surprise!

On a whim, Jonathan and I went to the Long Beach Antique Market this past Sunday, thinking maybe we'd find some mid-century furniture, specifically: round kitchen table with four chairs and/or a large round coffee table.

We got up at 6:30AM and headed out shortly after. This antique market happens once per month (3rd Sunday) and takes up 20 full acres of a parking lot adjacent to the Veteran's Memorial Stadium. If I didn't go there knowing exactly what I wanted, I might have had an aneurysm from over-stimulation.

Oh, and, you know, egregious humidity and heat might have been a factor, too. It was easily in the mid-90's by 10AM, and it didn't help that I was speed walking through the market in search of what I knew must be there: the perfect dining set. (Remember: I'm a grown up now.)

In addition to loads of furniture, there was, well, everything else you could imagine. Here, I took some pictures.









It was a blast looking around at everything. Even though I was on strict orders (from myself) not to buy anything unless it was what I was searching for specifically, it made me eager to go back again next month, and then maybe every month after that. Some things (like the original wood/metal/light art) were well beyond my price range, while other things were practically being given away. Whatever vintage or antique sort of item you might be searching for, chances are, you could find it here.

These pictures are the tip of the market iceberg. I'm excited to go back and explore some more, when it's about 20 degrees cooler.

So, while we didn't find a coffee table like we'd hoped, we certainly didn't come home empty-handed. Impatient though I may be, I think it might have paid off this time.



Because I'm in love. I saw it, and I knew we'd found the right set. It's a teak table and chairs, with a sleek mid-century modern aesthetic. It's in need of some serious lovin' (degreasing, sanding, staining, re-upholstery, etc.), which is where a few designated weekends with Shane will come in very handy.

It wasn't cheap; it came to $400, after originally being told $500, but I gave him the ol' "Hmm, interesting," and then turned to Jon: "Do I really want the table too, honey?" In all honesty, though, it was a steal. I've been looking for a table and chairs just like or comparable to this for about nine months now, and a single refinished set of 4 chairs could easily run $750 on its own! With another $100 of elbow grease and DIY care, we'll have this baby sparkling!

I'm thinking... herringbone fabric on the seats, maybe?



Yes. We're really, really happy with this purchase despite the unplanned-for attack on my bank account.

Oh, and speaking of purchases! Look what arrived in the mail yesterday...



If the table and chairs didn't send me closer to bankruptcy, this sure did the trick!

Bankruptcy never looked or felt so good!



What we have here are technically two items, not just one. The first is a cushy, 8'x11' non-skid rug pad. It is an absolute necessity on my super-slick laminate floors.

Next, is the pièce de résistance: an 8'6"x11'6" Moroccan style trellis rug made of 100% wool. I found this beauty (and the rug pad) on Overstock.com and I could not be happier.

I started looking for an enormous rug as soon as we moved in. We identified within a few hours that a rug was going to be our first major purchase after the bookcases. Aside from hating how big and drab the room looked without something to ground it (literally), functionally we needed one. Ennis and Fry were sliding around like idiots, and it just wasn't practical to have so much open, slippery floor.

This one stood out immediately, and the price was right, too: only $453.99 for an enormous, thick, wool rug. After thinking about it for a few days, I went back and saw that it was an additional 15% off due to a promotional back-to-school sale. I bought it immediately, for the cool price of $372.70 (just over $81 off). Again: a steal, especially for the quality.

It kind of speaks for itself.

Please excuse the dog/cat fur blanketing our chaise. We keep it real around here.

Jon was a trooper and trusted my instincts on this one.

The challenge was to find something that could match our steel blue couch, orange lounger, and green/brown/orange recliner all at once without bringing more orange into the mix. (We're officially oranged-out. No offense, Fry.) It couldn't be very dark, either, because we wanted to add more light to the ground, not force the light to the gargantuan ceilings. I also hoped to get a pattern, but not one that would conflict visually with my beloved recliner.

It also needed to be cushy. Luckily, I had two helpers who were more than happy to test its cushiness out for me. An Ennis v. Fry wrestling match was underway within 10 minutes of the rug being put down.

Needless to say, I'm thrilled that they're thrilled.

And Fry is thrilled that it's almost lunchtime.

* All images property of The Sleepy Peach