Actually, the incense is something that was unfinished from before, so really I was tying up loose ends. Not to mention that it earns me some money for our trip (yay!). I’m an avid amateur herbalist, and so I’ve been working on developing a line of incenses and other herbal products. (The jam could actually tie in with this, but we’ll see.) Currently, I have two varieties of incense: Descendence Incense and Transcendence Incense, and they’re carried at The Sacred Well in Oakland.
The Well had requested more Transcendence Incense from me way back in November, but, what with school and all, I just couldn’t get it done. Now I’ve completed the order and earned some dough. Yay again!

Everybody needs a little transcendence now and then...

Of course, I’m also working on knitting a funky shawl, just because I feel like it,

Big needles mean I'll be done soon, I hope.

trying to get some more dioramas finished to sell through Gray Lady,

Can you guess what this'll look like?

coercing a friend to give me some blackberries to make more preserves (with Drambuie this time, I think), crocheting my outfit for Off the Needles: A Knitting Pinup Calendar, and…oh yeah, there’s that elderberry wine in the closet I still have to rack and sweeten, and I also still need to get honey to start the crab-apple mead going (crab-apple juice frozen in the back of my fridge). Mmm, a couple of other unfinished needle-work projects in there, too, but we won’t mention them.

Oh! And a friend of mine commissioned me to design a tarot deck for an iPad app he’s working on.
And I just got invited to teach classes to “mid-kids” at the Northern California Women’s Herbal Symposium this September.

Honestly, I don’t know how I end up getting so busy! I don’t set out to do a million things at once, I just seem to keep finding myself in the midst of it all. I can’t resist a new challenge, a new project, new ideas, new stimulation, new opportunities.
In school, my teachers said I lacked focus… I guess I could admit to that, but I prefer to think I’m just well-rounded.

Now if only I can get Lonely Planet to hire me to write for their travel guides…

I was lucky enough to receive a whole lot of organically grown peaches and plums from some friends’ fruit trees and I had to come up with an idea for what to do with it before it spoiled.

I took several plums and started a plum cordial: plums, cinnamon sticks, candied ginger, lavender blossoms (from my own patio garden), all in a big gallon bottle with a whole mess of vodka I’d gotten for tincturing before I decided I like brandy better for tincturing.

This needs to soak for a while.

When I’ve decided it’s more or less done, I’ll strain it, sweeten it to taste with a simple syrup, and then let it sit some more so the flavors can blend.
Now then, on to the preserves part.

I already had a couple of apples and some lemon juice and zest left over from making Apple Brown Betty for a 4th of July party. I blanched the peaches (so I could easily remove the skins) and peeled them, peeled the apples, and cut everything up. It took a while. When I was done I had 20 cups of fruit. Yes, 20 cups. I know jam recipes say you shouldn’t make more than 6-10 cups at a time because it won’t set right, but I decided to go for it anyway. (For anyone who has read my blog before, you may begin to see a pattern developing here.) Stuck all the fruit, some lemon juice and 10 cups of sugar in my biggest stock pot (hey, it’s less sugar than the recipe called for even!).
It looked like this:

Fruit, you will be preserves!

It needed to sit in the pot for at least a couple of hours before cooking (the sugar helps draw out the juice) and I kind of got started later than I meant to… That meant that the preserve-making process went on late into the night. Doh!
Moral of this part of the story? When canning, start before 3:30 in the afternoon because once you get started cooking, you really have to go until it’s done. It was completely done (including the boiling-water process part) at 4:30am.

I enjoyed the whole process, even if I was fading a bit at 3am. Hearing the jam jars PING! as they cooled from the boiling water bath was worth it. I don’t have any fancy equipment, I heated the empty jars in a chicken fryer full of hot water (they’re short jars), lifted them in and out of the stock pot with barbecue tongs, and used a towel in the bottom of the big process pot. I actually had to wash my stock pot after filling the jars so I could use it again right away to process them. A canning funnel is now on my list of must-have kitchen equipment, but it all worked fine makeshift style.

Last night I decided to make labels for the jars, because…well, because I’m like that. I put a little something together in Illustrator and cut them into circles on speckly card stock. My friends who are designers would, I’m sure, scoff at my simple design, and they certainly could have done better and fancier. All the same, the labels are far better than Sharpie on the lid.

Bask in the glory of homemade preserves!

The fonts are Fortunaschwein and Cochin, in case you were wondering.

I enjoyed it so much that I’m making plans for more preserves! Maybe I’ll add lavender or thyme to the next batch! Maybe Drambuie, maybe whisky! Maybe I could get a booth at the Farmer’s Market and sell them for $7.50 a pop! I guess it depends on how much people like it. We’ll see…
In the meantime, it’s still fun.

I don’t know either.

Sometimes it seems easier to me to begin within a set of parameters. Sometimes limits stimulate creative thinking. This is one of the reasons I’ve been a perpetual student for the last 20 years: because in school I’m forced to push myself and jump-start my thinking by having to generate something that conforms to a specific set of rules.

Now that I’m done with school (for now), I have to find ways to create my own parameters and my own rules. It’s really quite challenging in its own right. I’m not particularly good at rules.

Magnetic poetry provides one such set of parameters. I know, it can be used to make really stupid and pointlessly crude phrases (that is certainly one of its most popular uses), but it can also be used to force a certain kind of flexibility in imagery and word choice. I realized I like it because it’s a sort of verbal collage. In the same way that I cut out images and move them around until they look right, I enjoy taking words and moving them around until they feel right. There is some element of selection, of course, but the options aren’t originally my own. I have to use what I’ve got.

Hmm, that relates to the cooking thing, too. Using leftovers, and all that.

So, what does it mean to be an artist anyway?
Does it really mean “creative problem solver”? That doesn’t sound as glamorous somehow…
Well, I don’t know. Maybe. Too many choices, I can’t even begin to decide.

.
.
.

Some Poetry That May or May Not Be Good,
But Was Made with Magnetic Poetry

A thousand whispers
Planet balmy like evening wind
What gold-red moon sips my breath?
Strange universe falling

.
.

Tinge my pithy Kafkaesque zeal
With crass delights and sanguine veils
(that was a great philosophy-themed set)

.
.

still roses cry their elaborate symphony
as my bitter honey sleeps,
a languid beauty

shadowed tongues dream easy beneath
the forested light
and sing the mists away

Why?

Because.

I really can’t give a better reason, I just want it because I’ve always wanted it. Because.

So, that’s all fine and everything.
I’m feeling remarkably tired these days even though I have far less to do. I think it’s a factor of my slowing down: now I’m actually noticing how tired I am because I’m stopping to smell the roses (or coffee), and stuff. No more onward and upward for me. Time for a nap. Or many.

I’m trying to get back to cooking. It’s something I’ve always enjoyed and I still do (once I manage to overcome my inclination to do absolutely nothing for several months). I also enjoy eating food cooked from scratch; I used to be quite a purist about that sort of thing before frozen organic vegetables packaged in plastic bags became a staple in my household. (sigh)

To that end, tonight I decided to be resourceful and make some rice pudding from leftover cooked brown rice. Yes, brown rice (!). Already a red warning light is going off in your head, I can tell. No one makes rice pudding with brown rice! It won’t be, well, mushy enough! It was slightly overcooked actually and I decided to go for it. I also just hate to waste and since the microwave died it’s not very convenient to reheat anything (that’s a whole other ongoing misadventure in my kitchen life).

Anyway, rice pudding it was going to be. Only one recipe in Joy of Cooking but it seemed alright; the Joy of Cooking is always a good place to start. The recipe seemed to be more of a baked custard recipe than a pudding recipe but that’s ok with me, I like custard too. I substituted freshly squeezed grapefruit juice and grapefruit zest for the lemon juice and zest and skipped lining the pan with cake crumbs, both because I didn’t have any and because I’d never heard of such a thing when it comes to rice pudding. Oh, and I cooked it in a water bath because that’s what you do with baked custards. Other than the aforementioned minor alterations, I followed the recipe exactly. All the proportions were just as specified.

Looks yummy, no?

It is yummy, though a bit more ricey than puddingy. The kids were suspicious.

Not a light dessert.

Actually, eating it reminds me of the raisins and rice my mom used to make for breakfast sometimes: leftover rice heated in a pan with milk, butter, raisins, and maybe honey. Good solid comfort food, and not too bad for you as long as you kept the butter to a relative minimum (hard for me, I love butter).

Tomorrow: banana bread and, here’s hoping, plum jam. Got to get that started before all those luscious plums go bad.

What does cooking have to do with art, you might reasonably ask, now that I’ve racked up so much debt getting my fancy art degree? A fine question.

One could argue that everything is art, but I won’t get into that.

Chop wood carry water, you know…

So, what have I been up to anyway? Well, I finished the spring semester at my school. That was good, only one year left to go before I (finally) get my BFA. Almost 37 (I’m 37, I’m not old!) and I haven’t finished my undergrad yet. That’s right folks, I’m an underachiever (as evinced by my blog upkeep too, I fancy).

What else…hmmm? Oh, that’s right. I just got back from Italy. Uh huh. Underachiever maybe, but at least I leave the country every 18 years or so. (Went to France in 1990/91. Does Canada count? That was more recent: 2003.) It was for the summer session at my school (THANK YOU FINANCIAL AID); the class was “Italy: Art and Contemporary Culture.”

Still processing all of that, to be sure. I learned that all that Catholocism was a teeny bit oppressive and terrifying, but only in certain locations. I also discovered that Venice is not my kind of town, no matter how beautiful and poetic it is (also the 90-degree temps and 98% humidity weren’t my thang), but Rome and Florence abso-frickin-lutely were. Maybe I’ll do my grad studies in Florence?? Maybe I’ll just camp out on the Ponte Vecchio and never leave. Oops, too late.

Swimming in the Adriatic, visiting Etruscan tombs, walking through the Roman Forum and on the Via Appia Antica (that’s a real Roman road where you can walk on the original stones, chariot-wheel ruts and everything). It was…too much to sum up in a blog post. Transformative, almost transcendent at times. Cool.

Alright, now it’s summer and I guess I have no good reason not to keep up my blog. I will do my darndest, I swear (assuming anyone reads this thing anyway). Of course, I’m about to go help a friend deliver a baby tonight/tomorrow. That should make some good blog fodder. No rest for the wicked – uh, I mean weary.

love to all my peeps who actually missed me while I was gone (??!!) (who knew?).

- Jenny

I’m talking about my internet connection. As a highly-evolved (snicker), ordained High Priestess (whoa, that’s weird), I should be able to take this inconsistency in stride. After all, I’m the Priestess of Controlled Chaos! I’ve survived being homeless, raising two Gemini children (well, that’s ongoing), and dancing topless with a knife in my mouth! What’s a little internet irritation compared to that?

Well, funny you should ask, because I’ve been pondering that myself.

Here’s what I think it is (I mean, since you asked and all) -

I think the reason why it drives me so crazy is because it interferes with my addiction (there, I’ve said it!) to my community. Ok, maybe that’s an extreme way to phrase it, but how it plays out is thus: I want to hang out with my peeps. They are busy. I am busy. I am thwarted in my desires. I feel sad. But, wait! Almost everyone has a blog! Those that don’t are pathologically addicted to email like I am! So, connection to the internet = connection to community.

Pathetic? Well, maaaaybe. Still true? Hell yes.

Then there’s the other factor of it (that is, my lack of consistent connectivity) interefering with my homework avoidance strategy.

How can I put off doing my homework if I have nothing to distract me? No emails to reply to or blogs to read? Terrible. I can’t quite justify turning on the TV or watching a movie because that’s too overt an avoidance technique, it’s completely unjustifiable. Email, on the other hand, is pernicious and insidious (two excellent words). It subtly steals my time away in the most enjoyable fashion. But, only when it’s working. Rats!

Alright, I’ve successfully made a blog post about avoiding homework, so that I could avoid doing homework for just a little longer. Now I guess it’s time to hit the books! Maybe I’ll just check my email one more time…

This particular post isn’t really about me anyway, it’s about the world, in all it’s peculiar and wonderful variety.

Have you ever heard of ice hotels? Most are seasonal, I think one up in the Arctic Circle is year-round. They’re one of the coolest things (sorry, that was unintentional) ever (IMHO). Someday, when money is no object, I will stay in one.
Here’s an article (and pictures!) about one where all the guest rooms are done by different designers:
12 Designs From The 2009 IceHotel: Catch Them Before They Melt!

In other mind-blowing news, some teenagers sent a helium balloon into the stratosphere and took pictures of space with a $60 digital camera. No, seriously. For real.
Here’s an article about it in The Daily Telegraph and here’s their Flickr Photostream.
I don’t know what else to say about it but wow. Wow.

In a final totally unrelated news item (from the most wonderful Boing Boing), a growing archive of US Military medical illustrations is available online. Ever wanted to see a beautiful illustration of a skull? I know I have.
There’s some other funky stuff, too. WARNING: page 2 of the overall photostream contains pictures of some weird eye procedure; you may want to skip that page if you find that kind of thing disturbing.
Well, here you go then: otisarchives1′s Photostream. Here’s the post on Boing Boing, too.

I hope you’ve enjoyed our little foray into the realm of the wondrous.

Join me again next week for…well, I’m not really sure. You’ll just have to join me to find out, I guess.

We discussed the notion that Mawi’s style of reasoning was generally inferential, in which one extrapolates specific details from the overall picture. (It smells smoky in here, therefore someone must have been smoking recently and there must be cigarette butts in the ashtray.)
My style of reasoning is generally deductive, in which one takes specific details and extrapolates the overall picture. (There are cigarette butts in the ashtray, therefore someone must have been smoking in here recently, which also explains the funky smell.)

So, to summarize (in case I lost anyone with my nerdiness, and yes, I am both a nerd and a geek, but that’s a discussion for another time):
Mawi = from the general to the specific = inference
me = from the specific to the general = deduction

In reality, we all use both at different times (or we simply suck at figuring out why anything happens in our lives, I know people like that), but that’s kind of beside the point at the moment. My point is, Mawi and I were discussing the “aha” moment that happens when specific details coalesce into an overall picture, like when you learn a language and suddenly you stop translating in your head and just understand it.

I live for those moments. Those are transcendent moments.

And then I realized why I am an obsessive collector of skills:
because I’m addicted to the “aha” moment, I’m addicted to transcendence.

My friends (lovingly) accuse me (J’accuse!) of being able to do and/or make anything. This is not actually true, of course, and I am both flattered and embarrassed by the suggestion. BUT, all the same, I do like (I mean, really like) knowing things and knowing how to do things. I thought maybe it was because I was trying to prove to myself (and the world?) that I really am good enough, smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me.

Well, that’s certainly valid (you know, I’m neurotic), but last night I realized I also just can’t get enough of the excitement that comes from connecting the dots, from relating one thing to another (apparently) vastly different thing, and from understanding the deeper connections underneath it all.

The more one knows about different stuff, the more one can find those connections, and the more one has the “aha” experience. (Then one’s brain becomes a giant tangled web of overlapping and contingent realities. It has its drawbacks, like making it incredibly difficult to decide what to order at a restaurant or whether to do homework or take a nap.)
In order to attain that moment of clarity, we must engage our internal improbability drives and allow our subconscious (or perhaps the collective unconscious) to draw the lines that we don’t overtly see (chaos, baby!).

Then, suddenly, it all takes shape, like a star coalescing from a cloud of superheated gas, and the brilliant glow of the realization warms the psyche and mesmerizes the mind.

"To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour."
   - William Blake, Auguries of Innocence

(the poem goes on quite a bit after that, but the rest is a rather ponderous, IMHO)

In other news, Liverpool Hope University is now offering a Master of Arts degree
in The Beatles. I kid you not.

And just for fun, I invite you to peruse Skull-A-Day.
Yup, it's just what it sounds like, but so much more!
I want to encourage your dark inner geeky soul because I'm like that.

I have fallen off the blog bandwagon, and hard. I don’t know why but I’ve had a positive aversion to posting lately (lately, as in the last three whole months).

Anyway, I was one of the tribe who went to Pantheacon and I’m not sure what I can add to the already wonderful and brilliant descriptions and reflections on the experience. Honestly I think I’m still processing it all.

I’m still having weird and intense (though good) dreams about my covenmates every night and every time I take a nap; they are so intense that it makes me wonder if the people in them are having the same dreams…

I learned that I love my tribe so much it’s kinda indescribable, that it’s actually pretty damn ok to be the Tower, and that I look good in a corset (who doesn’t, really?). I learned that the rituals and performances my group did were some of the best in the entire Con.

The Devil and The Tower

I learned that I’m wiser and more dangerous than I give myself credit for. I’m not sure, but I think those are both good things.

I also learned that those PCon organizers weren’t kidding when they said you should eat at least 2 meals and get at least 6 hours sleep every day (I learned that one the hard way, I got a terrible, miserable cold the week after PCon), but it was fun anyway so who really cares?

And, not least of all, I learned, by missing a week of school because I was so sick, that my coven community is far more important than my school community because my school is full of shit 90% of the time (see, Thora, we totally agree about pretentious artist crap) and that I really don’t care about my degree anymore except that I’m planning on using financial aid to get to Italy this summer and I only have a year to go and I don’t want to be a quitter.

The result of all this epiphany is that I haven’t watched any of my Netflix movies in over a month and have certainly paid several times over to have simply bought them by now.

Ah well.