I wrote this a few months ago. Tonight I find it suitable to post; it is the anniversary of my mom’s death. Now read a happy story! 

A couple weeks ago, I received a box from one of my best friends in Arizona. It had been sitting in our entryway for days before one of my roommates notified me that it was actually mine. I was not expecting any packages, so of course this was a wonderful surprise! I carefully opened it, but first found myself laughing at her goofy wrapping. (at the moment, I can’t find the photo of this ridiculous box, but it was a brown cardboard Budweiser case tied up in twine) My friend Emily and I share the exact same sense of humor. I knew the contents of this ridiculous box had to be good.

I cut the twine and opened the box tops wide. A dark plaid pillow lied on top, with a small paper note revealing “Hello. I used to be a long skirt…” At first I thought, oh, Emily has started making pillows out of recycled clothing. How crafty that little Emily is. She makes clothes, purses, blankets, pretty much anything. 

Before I continue, I must inform you that about 8 years ago, my mom was murdered. It’s an insane story and am willing to share if you are interested. Needless to say, I was forced to clean out my mom’s house and put it up for sale a month later. Since Emily is super crafty and also called my mother, Mom, I coerced her into taking a bunch of mom’s favorite clothes instead of giving them to Goodwill. At the time, she didn’t want to take them, but years later I am thankful that I put her in that uncomfortable position. I had completely forgotten about this until I pulled out the next pillow.

I immediately called her and thank goodness she answered. One by one, I slowly and delicately pulled them out, reading each attached tiny note.

“I was a suit jacket…”

“I was a blouse…”

“and I used to be a sundress, we were all worn by your Mom.”

“Thought you may like to have us in a different form.

Oh, and we also brought a gold friend along with us.”

I barely made it through each note without stopping to wipe away the tears. We both managed to choke out enough words to continue our conversation. I was absolutely blown away by this surprise package. She kept my mom’s clothes for all these years! I can’t imagine how arduous it must have been cutting and constructing these little objects. To have these on my bed is a perpetual reminder of how strong we all are for getting through that entire ordeal 8 years ago. It’s a reminder that I can literally heal from anything. It’s a reminder that I am loved. It’s a little piece of my old home. That little Em is one special girl and it’s no wonder why she’s one of my absolute best friends to this day. 

March 1st marked the end of buy no plastic month and to be completely honest, was I relieved. I set out to complete this little experiment to understand how heavily my daily life depends on plastic. Keep in mind that I tried not to purchase any plastic, however I did continue using plastic items previously purchased.

At first it was a fun little side project, especially trying to find lunch items to-go at my favorite bodega in Dumbo. In fact, that first day I got tricked. I thought I had been a smarty pants in choosing snacks for the studio, when in fact these carefully selected paper wrapped cookies were stowaways to plastic inside! Dooped x1

My anti-plastic planning failed in other ways also. The oatmeal from Starbucks, cardboard container right? Totally forgot that they pack in plastic wrapped fruit and nuts. Dooped x2. 

Ordered Chinese food delivery. Thought it would come in those cute little Chinese to-go boxes. Nope, plastic tupperware. My fault for not researching. Dooped x3. 

From then on, purchasing a few plastic items developed closer to necessity rather than not purchase at all. The following incidents are my guilty purchases. 

• Clothes; I truly did need a few items.
• Store bought ice; my guests shouldn’t have to drink warm beergaritas.
• Store bought orange juice and champagne; when bringing supplies to board game brunch, my favorite brands will only do.
• Cleaning supplies; neglecting the house’s needs would have been inconsiderate to my roommates. 
• Monthly Metrocard; obvious reasons.

I also learned that I am not willing to give up products that I am loyal to. If I had run out of Dove deodorant or Neutrogena face wash, there is no way I would have used anything else. Brand loyalty runs deep when it comes to my skin. 

I definitely think this experiment was successful if not only for highlighting how dependent I am. Overall, I learned that it is easy to cut back on personal plastic consumption. When it comes to living in a communal environment and having limited resources, purchasing plastic may be the supreme outcome. Being aware of this slightly changed my consumer patterns. Plus, eating ice cream sandwiched between two cookies is way yummier than using a spoon. 

I applaud Lula’s Apothecary for actively using washable supplies and utensils to serve the most delicious vegan ice cream. I also applaud Stogo for using corn plastic and for making delicious vegan ice cream and cookies, pictured below.

Rain drops; counters of a, Swiss 721 Bold Condensed

Shade; J, Futura Light

Handle; J, Sentinel Light Italic

I wrote this a few months ago. Tonight I find it suitable to post; it is the anniversary of my mom’s death. Now read a happy story! 

A couple weeks ago, I received a box from one of my best friends in Arizona. It had been sitting in our entryway for days before one of my roommates notified me that it was actually mine. I was not expecting any packages, so of course this was a wonderful surprise! I carefully opened it, but first found myself laughing at her goofy wrapping. (at the moment, I can’t find the photo of this ridiculous box, but it was a brown cardboard Budweiser case tied up in twine) My friend Emily and I share the exact same sense of humor. I knew the contents of this ridiculous box had to be good.

I cut the twine and opened the box tops wide. A dark plaid pillow lied on top, with a small paper note revealing “Hello. I used to be a long skirt…” At first I thought, oh, Emily has started making pillows out of recycled clothing. How crafty that little Emily is. She makes clothes, purses, blankets, pretty much anything. 

Before I continue, I must inform you that about 8 years ago, my mom was murdered. It’s an insane story and am willing to share if you are interested. Needless to say, I was forced to clean out my mom’s house and put it up for sale a month later. Since Emily is super crafty and also called my mother, Mom, I coerced her into taking a bunch of mom’s favorite clothes instead of giving them to Goodwill. At the time, she didn’t want to take them, but years later I am thankful that I put her in that uncomfortable position. I had completely forgotten about this until I pulled out the next pillow.

I immediately called her and thank goodness she answered. One by one, I slowly and delicately pulled them out, reading each attached tiny note.

“I was a suit jacket…”

“I was a blouse…”

“and I used to be a sundress, we were all worn by your Mom.”

“Thought you may like to have us in a different form.

Oh, and we also brought a gold friend along with us.”

I barely made it through each note without stopping to wipe away the tears. We both managed to choke out enough words to continue our conversation. I was absolutely blown away by this surprise package. She kept my mom’s clothes for all these years! I can’t imagine how arduous it must have been cutting and constructing these little objects. To have these on my bed is a perpetual reminder of how strong we all are for getting through that entire ordeal 8 years ago. It’s a reminder that I can literally heal from anything. It’s a reminder that I am loved. It’s a little piece of my old home. That little Em is one special girl and it’s no wonder why she’s one of my absolute best friends to this day. 

My morning walks to work most often uncover this city’s gems. Today I found a coffin warehouse receiving their a.m. shipment. Chilling, yet another reminder to celebrate each day.

(MJ)

As I’m crawling out from the dust of this last month, I’ve pocketed a few gems along the way. Completely spilling from my fingertips unsystematically, I share with you one.

Music. No more downloading in haste and listening, but not really listening. When Bon Iver’s new album comes out next month, my first listen will not be while occupied with work, commuting, anything where my complete attention and thoughts are not with his crafted lyrics and song. Vocoder and all. How did music become a backdrop to everyday tasks rather than the focus of being at one with the complete album? I will take that album, which I will purchase, adorn my newly purchased headphones, and lay on my bedroom floor while absorbing that entire album beginning to end. Like back in junior high, in my perfectly sized walk-in closet, feet rested on the wall, crossed at my ankles. Each stanza unfolding into nodes of conception. When and why did I stop experiencing music this way? There may not always be time to enjoy new albums in this way but I’m calculating that his new album will be another arrow straight to the heart and this time I’ll be diligently ready.

Listening to the new Stevie Nicks and…wait, this is becoming a weekly thing. But honestly I am listening to her new album for the second time and this just occurred to me.

I am not a person who checks the weather report often. I grew up in the sun for 27 years and if it happened to rain after I left the house for the day, it was a real treat. In fact, I’d sometimes drive with the windows and sunroof open, blasting Pinback, or whatever I was feeling that day, welcoming the scattered desert rain upon my cheeks and car interior. 

With that history explained, living in Brooklyn for 10 months, I still do not check the weather report. Winter months = snow men and jackets. Spring = skirts, and so on.  

However, April showers bring May flowers, and this finally brings me to the point of this rant. Last week after a beautiful day shopping in the city, I found myself stranded in the April rain, in Chinatown with a friend. We tucked into a cute bar for dinner and a couple drinks. We then ambitiously attempted to head out into the rain to another bar, but reason enough for a special, secret bar. 

The rain had settled down enough to head out to our destination, but quickly reverted into heavy, yucky rain, the kind that wets your entire body in 30 seconds. Should I purchase an umbrella? No, not just yet. It wasn’t long before my friend purchased his own umbrella. I wasn’t that needy; I had grown up without rain, after all. Rain is a treat, right? Also, the streets out here are often covered in what I like to refer to as the “umbrella graveyard”. Broken, inside out black umbrellas flower the streets and sidewalks and I don’t want to be a member of that club. However, by now my partially waterproof jacket was soaking through and we had blocks to go. Four additional blocks and I gave in and purchased one from a small Vietnamese lady pushing a cart. $5 wasn’t a terrible bargain. It was my first emergency umbrella purchase, and after all, up until this breaking point, I had wondered how long it would take for me to purchase a random umbrella from a street vendor. (Sometimes I also wonder how long it will take for me to wear sandals in this city.) After writing this, purchasing or not purchasing a street umbrella sounds irrelevant. It’s just ridiculous why I would wait to the point of completely soaked clothes until breaking down. Especially now that I know five dollars will save the anguish of this situation and the point of this entire post. April = umbrella graveyard club. 

The new Explosions in the Sky came out today. I’m listening to it for my first time, going through photos from last year, and getting a little sentimental. No matter how much I love this city and each beautiful friend I have made here, I still miss…

the landscape. 

pool parties and birthday parties with close friends.

sunday brunch in the front yard.

bike trips.

road trips.

yep, road trips.

friends’ woofers.

confetti parties.

cheap stones and mediocre sushi at moto.

bacci ball and 1/2 off wine.

the effing sunsets.

yeah… the sunsets.

bike rides on the beach.

da vang.

golden girls golf club / plaid shorts days.

working with kel.

my woofers, Bowie.

sunrises and sky harbor.