All I Want for Christmas

I never had the pleasure of knowing my great-grandmother, Berthamae Howard, but if Gammy (my paternal grandmother) is to be believed, she was a very special lady. When Gam passed away last year, my dad came into possession of a book concerning our family history that was compiled by my Grandmother Howard, and it contains many anecdotes typed on this Smith Corona Electra 110. It's a big, dusty old thing, and it doesn't much please the eye, but it types beautifully in cursive.

It was purchased in the 1970s from a store that no longer exists--the Hannibal Typewriter Service at 277 Broadway. It didn't become mine until a few years ago, and I've been lugging it around ever since. The poor thing has endured all manner of dents and dings, but the motor still purrs like a sewing machine when you turn it on. That's not to say, however, that it couldn't use some love and attention. The space bar only works when it wants to, and the "u" hammer sticks, among other things...

After doing a little research, I found a handful of typewriter repair shops in the Chicago area, but typewriter repairmen seem to be a dying breed. It's important to me that we spend the money to get it fixed because the time is fast approaching when no one will know what to do with a vintage typewriter, and I'd hate for it to fall by the wayside (as these things often do). I can only hope the repairs will be affordable. The sentimental value far surpasses its monetary worth, so it will be difficult to decide how much is too much.

...I'm a bit of a romantic, if you haven't noticed. I can't imagine anything better than sitting in the window and typing letters to my friends and family on the very same typewriter my great-grandmother used to record what is now her legacy. I think the day will come, too, when it is my turn to do the same for my children and grandchildren. By then, though, my little Vaio laptop will likely be the relic...

Eat, Drink, & Be Merry: Part I

I wanna state right off the bat that goodbye never gets any easier! Phil and I dropped off Mom and Ross (my stepdad, but more aptly, a great friend and confidant) in Franklin Park this morning. After all sorts of hugs, kisses, and tears, it was time to part ways. It's hard to be too sad when you've had such a fantastic time together, but it's always tough to see them go. 

Because Phil and I won't be able to make it back to South Carolina for Christmas this year, our Carolina Christmas came to us (albeit, a little early). Mom packed a boxful of homemade baked goods, some canned veggies from their garden at Clay Heels, as well as a couple of bottles of Ross' muscadine wine (made from local Scuppernong grapes). 

They were kind enough, too, to bring us some coffee from the Leopard Forest Cafe in Travelers Rest. I don't care how much you love Starbucks, this is the finest coffee I have ever had the pleasure of drinking, and if you ever find yourself in up-state South Carolina, it's a must. 

We got into the Christmas spirit by popping in a jazz CD (yes, I still own CDs) and putting up the tree. It's a little bitty thing, but it suits our purposes nicely, and once it was up, it was of course time for the photo-shoot.  Phil loves photo-shoots. I especially like this picture of us because it looks like he has a halo, and it's not immediately noticeable that I'm sucking in like my life depends on it. I don't even think I was breathing when this was taken...

Oh, yeah...the tree. Pretty, huh?

I promised myself I would cook a goose for Christmas dinner, but when I saw the $60.00 price tag, I chickened out (no pun intended, it just happened that way) and went with a $17.00 duck instead. I'm happy I did, too, because after four hours (and 18 minutes, but who's counting?) of tender loving care, it turned out beautifully. And it didn't taste too bad either! Mom also made some homemade rolls, and we whipped up a white chocolate pumpkin cheesecake for dessert, but I'm being pretty generous in giving myself any credit on that.  I mostly just crushed up gingersnaps for the crust and made a run to the grocery store to pick up the vanilla extract. I'm Ms. Reliable in a crisis...

All of these things made for a great Christmas dinner, and Ross' wine really tipped the evening over into awesome. You know you're enjoying good food with even better company when opening presents is only half the fun. I was overwhelmingly grateful for the knit scarf and goose-down jacket this morning, and they couldn't have come at a more perfect time. After being on her best behavior all weekend, Chicago dropped down into the 30s...

Yes, this is Duck.

Once Upon a Time

As the holidays draw near, I can't help but be reminded of my great-grandmother--Mildred Harrison. She passed away shortly after I moved to South Carolina in 2010. I knew when I went to visit her at the nursing home the day of my departure that it might be the last time I saw her. Just before I left, she asked me to write her while I was away, and I promised I would...

Grandmother and Granddad, pictured on the right.

My sister, Tiffany, and I spent a lot of time at our Grandmother and Granddad's when we were little. They lived in a big house with a big yard, and it came with a few peculiarities that I remember well--particularly a rock wall in the back. The landscaper had placed several large geodes alongside it as he found them in the yard, but the idea that someone may have discovered them before Tiffany and me was inconceivable. I don't know how large they actually were, but I do recall having a great deal of trouble lugging the largest up the back-steps and into the kitchen where I could show Grandmother what I found. Fortunately for a five-year-old's fragile ego, she was kind enough to act surprised.

The house itself was chock-full of rooms, and each had a name of its own. There was the Victorian room, filled with antique furniture, oil lamps, and glass figurines; the Safari room, so named for its excessive use of cheetah and zebra prints; Elizabeth's room, adorned with family heirlooms and flowered wallpaper that was fuzzy to the touch; and then there was JuJu's room, with it's bright red carpet and our family's over-sized wedding photos mounted along the walls. I usually wanted to sleep with my sister in the Safari room, which was hers by tradition, but my room was JuJu's. I slept in it every night we stayed there, and before me, my father did the same.

Grandmother, Tiffany, and I spent most of our time together in the Victorian room. This was where we toasted marshmallows and threw tea parties. It was imperative that there be a tea-party every time we went to Grandmother's house. It would sometimes take us half the afternoon to prepare all the little snacks and dishes, my favorites being the sandwich squares and strawberries dipped in sugar. When the time came, Tiffany and I would wrap up in feather boas and put elbow-length gloves on, all the while cooling ourselves (whatever the temperature) with a couple of sequined folding fans she bought for us.

Occasionally, Grandmother would pile us into her long, white Cadillac and take us down to the riverfront. She always enjoyed the shops down there, and each time we went, she allowed my sister and I to pick out an item we wanted to take home with us. On one such occasion, she bought Tiffany and I each a little porcelain tea-set. I still have mine (and the folding fan) today.

After dinner most nights, Granddad would take the three of us out to Grandview Cemetery to see where their son, Leo Jr., was buried. This was a daily ritual that I didn't understand until I was much older, but I enjoyed collecting the fragments of plastic flowers that littered the cemetery lawn. From there, we would return home, where the rest of our evening would be spent with Grandmother in the master bedroom. Tiff and I would get comfortable on the day bed and watch I Love Lucy while Grandmother tended to whatever business was necessary, oftentimes bringing in clothes hung to dry from the roof of their screened-in porch. (It could be accessed through a door in their bedroom, and I was always considered too little to venture onto the roof, so it was only when I could steal a minute alone that I would even dare.)

Should Grandmother ever require any alone time, my sister and I would watch television or entertain ourselves at the saloon-style bar in the basement. It was such a fascinating old house. Grandmother always had an affinity for cowboys and Indians, so we would take turns waving around an iron pistol or running amok in a full-sized Indian headdress...

...but Grandmother's house wasn't the only venue in which she entertained us. We would often hang around her desk at Harrison Motor Company, too. It was "the shop" to us, but "the place of business" according to Grandmother. Four generations of Harrison men, beginning with my great-great-grandfather, all worked in the shop at one time or another, and to this day, what Grandmother did there is still unclear to me. But there she was just the same, and I could always rely on her to save me a cake doughnut with white icing. Those were her favorite, and mine too, coincidentally. Whenever I exhausted myself roller-skating up and down the showroom floor, my doughnut was waiting for me at Grandmother's desk.

As I got older, so did Grandmother. By the time I left for South Carolina, she was no longer the person I've described and she hadn't been for many years. I wrote her a letter as promised, and it was delivered the day she went to the hospital. In the melee, Granddad was unable to check the mail, and she passed away before getting to read it. I was devastated by this, as was Granddad, but he photocopied the letter and we placed the original with her in the casket. I like to pretend it wasn't too late.

Reimagining the Pearl

I decided to rearrange the furniture in my apartment. I like to do that every now and then. I think it makes your home feel like a new place, and sometimes, that's needed (at least for me). While I was moving stuff around, I noticed that the wall above our bed was looking a little empty, so I rolled up my sleeves and broke out the canvas.

Back when I was an angst-ridden teenager, I mutilated dozens of books, tearing the pages out one at a time. I plastered hundreds of them on every wall in my room, including the closet. When my mom eventually sold the house, it all had to be undone, of course, so I aimed to recreate that in a way that would be a little easier to remove.

Because I wanted the painting to complement my bedspread, I set to work mixing a grayish blue-green color. After ripping the pages from a drugstore edition of John Steinbeck's The Pearl, I used the paint rather sloppily as an adhesive. This gave the piece a crude appearance that I find attractive.

...before I continue, I want to take a minute to explain why I chose The Pearl. John Steinbeck happens to be one of my favorite authors, and this particular copy was one of several books I took from my grandma's house when she passed away last year. It was of no great significance to her or anyone else, but I wanted it for the simple fact that it was hers, and the story, to me, was special. Maybe it's unclear why I would do this to a book that means so much to me, but the answer is easy: because it means so much to me.

Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, the painting.

My next order of business was to tape off sections of the canvas and wet only the surfaces I was going to repaint. I then whipped up a plum purple, a burnt orange, and an earthy yellow. With the wet canvas angled as it was, the paint dribbled down to give it more of that processed inelegance I'm so fond of.

As soon as the second layer finished drying, I went over all of it with slight variations of the same colors.Using a wet brush, I lifted off some of the paint to give it a little more transparency. It was important to me that the story seep through in the end.

And there you have it! The finished piece. It may not sell for millions, but I think it has served its purpose.

A Surprise Package

Part I: The Package

Phil and I received a package yesterday from his mother in Charleston. She just returned from a trip to Japan and Korea last week, and she brought back a few things for Phil and me. We get one or two packages from Korea each year, and they almost always include dried seaweed and squid. Fortunately, this was no exception, but it also included a few bonus goodies and gifts that I'm excited to share here.

From left to right: seaweed, microwaveable fish, and two different kinds of squid. 

I don't know if you can see it, but there are two small boxes at the top of the photo; one red, the other yellow. They are Morinaga's Milk and Azuki caramels from Japan, and they're freaking amazing! Phil and I lay in bed this afternoon sucking on a couple of pieces, seeing who could make theirs last longest. I won, for the record, and since they're only 35 calories a piece, I was able to enjoy them without feeling guilty.

Little wooden figurines and a postcard from Phil's mom. :)

Phil's aunt and uncle also purchased these wooden dolls for us in Kyoto. I'm not sure what they are exactly, but they're cute, if you ask me. It's a shame we don't know what the placards they came with say, but maybe we will find someone who can translate for us one of these days. In the meantime, I think I'll just leave them on display with the dolls.

Part II: A Day Away from the City

We made another trip to H-Mart this morning! For those of you who don't know, H-Mart is a Korean supermarket/mini-mall in Niles, Illinois. We try to make it over there every couple of weeks to stock up on authentic Korean foods. Phil could probably spend an entire paycheck in one trip if he wanted to, but there's only a handful of things that we absolutely cannot leave the store without: 

Brown rice green tea, bulgogi marinade, kimchi, and HooRoo Rook instant noodles.

I'm not a fan of kimchi, myself, but it's hard to pry Phil out of the kimchi corner empty-handed. He can't get enough of the stuff!

No, this isn't our fridge.

That about covers our Saturday outing! It's really nice to get out of the city every now and then, even if it's only to go grocery shopping. I think now we'll spend a quiet evening at home. Have some brown rice tea and go for a walk, maybe.

More later...

My Latest Project

Part I: His Woodness

The wound is healing nicely, and he doesn't seem to be in much pain. The stitches are scheduled to come out next Thursday if everything continues to progress as well as it has. I honestly think he's had more trouble adjusting to the cone around his head than the loss of his leg. He gets around really well, but his movements these last few days suggest to me that he may be experiencing some muscle soreness as his body adapts to hopping around on only three legs.

He looks good, whether he's feeling it or not.

I'm thankful his physical condition has not been much cause for concern these last few days. I am, however, a little upset by his demeanor. I made the mistake of reading about amputation and the recovery process online, and it was mentioned that dogs sometimes go through a bout of depression after surgery.  I don't know if that's what is going on here, or if I'm just over-analyzing his behavior. I didn't even know dogs could be depressed. He's just not his usual Woodness, but I suppose that's to be expected after a major operation like he's had. If nothing else, his appetite is as big as ever, and that gives me peace of mind. 

On a sidenote, tomorrow is Wood's ninth birthday. :)

Part II: The Project

What I've got in the works.

As some of you may have noticed, 2012 has been a big year for my family and me. With that in mind, I decided I wanted to commemorate some memorable moments by painting a quilt. I learned when I was younger how to sew, crochet, and embroider, but never how to quilt, so I'll just have to hit the canvas instead.

Fortunately, I happened to have six 8x10 canvases on hand, and I thought they'd serve well as patches. I painted each a different color, and the first event I chose to memorialize was my dad's heart transplant. I didn't think to take pictures of the design process, which was really pretty simple, but I will try to remember to do that on my next piece. 

Spoiler alert.

Patch #1: the finished piece.

Right now, I am in the beginning stages of patch #2, which will symbolize my time at the South Bend Museum of Art, as well as the things I learned in my painting classes with Katherine Schmidt and David Lester Learn (both fantastic artists). I'm kind of going for a gritty, comic-book style with this series of paintings, so hopefully that will translate on the canvas when all is said and done. I think I'll just try and have some fun with it in the meantime. :)

More later...

500 sq.ft. of Awesome

I think, for my first entry, some introductions are in order.

I'll start with Woodstock (a.k.a. Wood, Woody, Dog, etc.):

In all his splendor.

Wood and I have been friends a long time. He was given to me by my mom for my fifteenth birthday. Being the fattest of his litter, he was the clear choice for me, and as soon as he was old enough, mom brought him home with her one evening after work. We've shared many a misadventure since then, and after bouncing around the continental U.S. for the last five years, we've finally settled down in Chicago, Illinois.

The photo above is one of my favorites of him, and even though it's only a few months old, it's a tad misleading. Shortly after moving to Chicago, Wood developed a limp which we later discovered was caused by a malignant bone tumor. To prevent the cancer from spreading, we decided to go ahead and get his right foreleg amputated. He's in the recovery process now, and I'll be sure to follow-up on his progress in subsequent entries. 

Home from the hospital on October 6. Happy birthday to me. :)

But enough about Woodstock. It's time to introduce Phillip (a.k.a. Pil-lip, Pip, Pipop, etc.):

Phil and Phil's hair.

Phil's my sweetheart, my boyfriend, my best guy, and a number of other things (most of them flattering). Originally from South Korea, he and his family immigrated to the United States when he was nine or ten years old. By the time Woody and I stumbled upon him, he'd been living in Charleston, South Carolina for a number of years, and the rest, as they say, is history...almost three years of history to be semi-accurate...

Maybe Phil's intro is a little underwhelming after Wood's, but my fingers are getting tired and I still have one person left to introduce, so forgive the brevity. These people (yes, Dog's a person) are the cohabitants of my 500 sq.ft. slice of Heaven (pictured below), and my purpose in sharing them with you is to provide some faces to go with the names that will likely resurface again and again and again.

The living room/bedroom (a.k.a the only room).

And that leaves only one: yours truly. If you don't know already, my name is Kirste, but I'll talk about myself plenty in entries to come. Suffice it to say that, since moving to Chicago, I've become a student (sometimes), a painter (other times), and a live-in girlfriend/chef/maid (at all times). 

I think that about sums it up. More later...