Magnetic Fields -- Distorted

For those of you who love Magnetic Fields as much as I do (Oh, 69 Love Songs -- who can resist lyrics like "I can keep it up all night, I can keep it all day; let's pretend we're bunny rabbits, until we pass away")!? you can listen to their new album, Distorted, for a limited time streaming on their myspace page. And, other exciting news -- they'll be on tour soon. Perhaps worth a drive to Chicago. hmm.

And now, the functionalist tour. (Huh, this gives me interesting ideas for field notes.)

Morning! (You know, in the *broad* sense.) Time for coffee.


I keep the good stuff in that vintage coffee can on the bottom shelf, whole bean Abianno espresso from Sweetwaters. I grind it up fresh, very fine.

I knock yesterday's grounds into my compost canister beside the sink. (When it fills, I'll bring it to the compost heap across the way on the garden plot.)

Then I rinse off my Moka, pouring out setting aside the leftovers of yesterday's coffee, maybe for a chocolate cake.

And then I put the fresh coffee on to percolate in the Moka. (This Moka was actually a parting gift from Suzi when I moved out to the country. She bought it in Paris when she was living there. I had used it nearly every day when we were living together in Ann Arbor, since my own had gotten lost in the move from Austin. Suzi, I'm eternally grateful!)

I grab some whole organic milk from the fridge, and warm it on the other burner.

I'm enjoying my sunflowers while the coffee is brewing.

When the coffee has percolated, I whisk the milk until it's all foamy, pour it into a mug (I've had that silly hippie mug with the heart-shaped strawberries and and psychedelic snails since Santa Cruz). First cup is half milk, half coffee. I top it with freshly ground nutmeg. The nutmeg grinder is old enough that it actually says Made in W.-Germany on it.

A glance out the kitchen window: a beautiful day here! (Hanging in the window, there's the evil eye Seda gave me as a housewarming gift in Austin when I moved into my cottage there by the University of Texas campus.)

On other days, we might go into the living room to bask in the bright gorgeous sunlight . . .

(Ba and Marta & Liles might remember that photo of us and Ross from Otis Street on my college graduation day, which I keep framed in my living room to remind me of times when I was surrounded with friends . . .)

And we might sit on the expansive couch there. . .

Or maybe settle in at the table overlooking the water. . . (yeah, never mind that table cloth hiding on the floor. I use it to cover my TV set sometimes, when I'm not overactively using my DVD player and hiding out on the loveseat in the corner there watching romantic comedies.)




But, instead, today, I take one quick detour to my bedroom to open up the vertical blinds to let in the light . . .







(Oh, look, Mom, there's the Wheel of Life thangka I bought in Himachal Pradesh!)

(And here's the vanity table I was telling you about. . .)


Yeah, yeah, okay. So the light is streaming in, and we're finishing the daytime tour, and now it's time for me to settle down in the office, with coffee cup number two, to do some writing.

So, then, um, where *are* those papers from Qualitative Methods, anyway? I took the course only about a year and a half ago. . . .



Not here; this is where I sort junk like jars of foreign change. . .



Obviously, not here -- this is my laundry corner. I'm closing up that folding door now to hide the stacked units.


Apparently, not here, though I keep lots of old papers from past courses in this little corner of drawer-style bins, and I see some files from classes from that same semester. . .


Yes, yes, I remember -- these are all my deadlines and projects that need my attention . . .


Oh, apparently they were in the very first spot I looked, all squeezed into that brown & white floral IKEA box, now unpacked and sitting on my desk in piles, ready to be read and digested . . . So, I'd better get started with that! You can see that my office, too, is wonderfully flooded with light.

A tour of my little house

To answer another one of Mom's requests, we're taking a tour of the inside of my cottage.

So, we enter through the kitchen, taking off our shoes to keep the water and mud from the gravel road and pathway to getting tracked throughout the cottage!

You can see here the style the owners used in renovating the kitchen, which I think is really sweet. The terra cotta with my blue Fiestaware remind me of the colors in my flat in Budapest. (I found that cobalt blue teapot at a yard sale in Ann Arbor this summer.) You can also see the beautiful stainless steel appliances they put in the kitchen -- Bosch dishwasher and gas range . . . swoon!

Over there on the counter you may notice my own electric appliances: I am still using that toaster oven I got in San Francisco, Mom's old breadmaker, and I've got a new rice maker I bought in an Asian shop here in Ann Arbor that makes me very happy. Behind it is hiding the vintage bean pot I was telling you about, Mom, as well as an old pottery bowl I bought at a garage sale back in Santa Cruz.

And then beyond, a CD tower I finally broke down and bought at IKEA to house my dozens of Eastern European CDs. Up top, I've still got that old fragment of an Indian screen that I bought years ago at the flea market in San Francisco. I'm still tempted to paint those blue walls a warm gold color, but I won't have the time to do it anytime soon, if I ever do.



And quickly we make our way in the open floorplan through to the living room. Here, you may recognize my old Salvador Dali lithographs Mom, Dad, and I bought at Price Costco so many years ago . . . that old antique buffet table you gave me when I moved to San Francisco, Mom, and that tiny marble-topped table you must have bought sometime after the Fire. You can also see my fireplace, the Firelight Glass lamps I have lit there on top of the buffet table, some houseplants I picked up at IKEA.

And there on the floor are the red and blue Turkish wool rugs I bought for my cottage in Austin when the floors were so cold and uninsulated I thought I'd freeze my feet if I didn't get some coverings on my floor. I bought those funny pale blue & rose vintage rugs for the same reason, at the same time -- and now they make a nice soft layer to sit on in front of the fire, much warmer than the concrete in front of the fireplace. I do love this hanging lantern-style light the owners have in the kitchen . . .


Taking a step down into the dining room and television corner, we look back up toward the living room from our spot beside the vintage Formica & chrome table. . . There's my cookbook collection, with those two pillar-style lamps I've had since Santa Cruz, and my much-beloved new red sectional couch. At the far end is the front door through which we entered the cottage.



Here, you can spy my grandfather's old accordion atop some funky vintage stacking tables I found at a garage sale. And the custom-made pine bookcase with an antique stained glass window for a door that I bought through craigslist. I keep my fiction books in there. And above it is the Elgin sunburst clock Mom got me at the senior's center in Minnesota this summer. Beside the bookcase is my old secretary desk with my poetry collection there, and beneath it I'm sure you'll notice the sewing machine you got me in Minnesota, Mom. Behind it is a funky old vintage suitcase I keep old photos and correspondence in.


Here, we turn the corner into my bedroom, where you can see that antique mirror I bought for $5 at a garage sale in Dexter, my vintage vanity table and glass lamps I bought from that sweet older couple on Huron River Drive, and the reproduction Depression glass candlesticks I've been carting around since I left my San Francisco studio in the TenderNob (I had bought them around the corner there at the Christian charity shop.) You might also recognize the vintage-style reproduction mirror from IKEA we'd admired together, Mom, and which in the end, I couldn't resist. Same goes for the bed frame.

And, because it used to be an old screened-in porch there, you step down into the section of the bedroom that I sleep in, which I curtain off for total coziness while I'm sleeping. On the floor you'll notice my meditation cushions atop the carpet I bought from the Kashmiri merchant in McLeod Ganj and shipped all the way from India. And, there's that old armoire Mom used to keep in the garage in Oakland.


We can stop for a moment at the bath, which is nothing special, but it's simple, functional, and all mine!


Go through that other little doorway, and you make your way into my office, and you can see just a couple of my many bookshelves . . .


And here is my workspace. This in and of itself could make the drive out to the boonies worthwhile, even if it weren't for the quiet and the beauty and the deep breaths of soul-regenerating fresh air. . .



The end! Come and visit the real thing soon! :)