Ray(goons)

Well hey there party people. It's been a while, but I think it's as good a time as any to get back on the bloggin' train, seeing as I have a wee bit of free time these days. First off: I had the most excruciating, anxiety-inducing migraine today. My arm went numb. It was fucking strange and completely altered my afternoon activities (a run and scrabble with Jess). Ok. Perhaps they weren't dire needs. But still. I'll go on...I moved back home recently after a whirlwind road trip through Nebraska, Colorado, Arizona, Utah, Nevada, and finally California. I helped move my sister out to school in Oranga, CA to Chapman University. I fell in love with LA. And though I can't be sure it is where I will end up, it's definitely under consideration (I may have some job opportunities available there in the near future). Plus, I have a few friends out there and my brother and sister, of course. It was a wonderful trip that made me realize how much I haven't seen in this beautiful country. Since moving back I have gotten a job, made a few new friends, and attempted to start saving money so that I can one day see more of this planet and have a home of my own (I actually have yet to save anything, but I'm workin on it). Now I work at Raygun in the east village, which used to be called Smash until they were sued...it's a long story. It's turning out to be a great job and there seems to be some room for promotion(?) Anyways, it's great working with boys for the first time in, well, four years(?)It's a change of pace and it definitely feels good being challenged in new ways. Last weekend I went to Iowa City for Kathleen's belated birthday celebration. So I am now selling my stuff on ebay, and it's proving harder than it looks. We'll see how it goes. Here are my recent thrifting goodies that are on ebay right now. Check it out!

Pinch Me!

So excited I could scream! This summer I have the fortunate opportunity to blog for CollegeFashionista.com on current trends in Iowa City, and in general. My blogs will be weekly, which I am pretty used to and each will be accompanied by a photograph of a student, or someone of student age, wearing something unique and current. I have included a few pics I have taken of recent. Ideas, pointers, or general knowledge about pictures and professional blogging would all be hapily received. Much love (and happy mother's day!). MP.

http://www.collegefashionista.com/

T-Shirt Project

Another great DIY project care of StumbleUpon. Great for boys and girls.
http://www.behance.net/Gallery/Judah-Method-Bleaching-Experemnet/396961

Grandma's Wedding Accessories

If the day ever comes, let me wed in this sequined velvet hair piece and this pearl-beaded clutch.

Grinnell and Robitussin

Last Monday I took an impulse road trip to Grinnell to visit my good friend Jessica. The trip was NOT an excuse to go thrifting in uncharted territory. That said, Jessica was willing to skip class to accompany me to the small town's finest in used and vintage merchandise. How could I say no? Our first stop was Second Mile. Truth be told, it could have been our first and last stop of the day because the stuff we found there was remarkable. Everything from retro stuffed animals, eighties quilted leather bags, door knocker eighties earrings, and, you can drumroll if you like, embroidered late 70s framed canvas art. A mecca of kitsch. It was amazing. After my fun-filled day in small town Iowa, I headed to Des Moines to hit my usual spot with Grandma S. Problem: I took some cough medicine to ease my throat before our trip. In a robitussin stupor I ended up buying a lot more than planned (well, actually, grandma bought a lot more than planned because I, not surprisingly, forgot my wallet, among other things).

fun and games at revival

The one unfortunate aspect of vintage shopping, or thrifting in general really, is when you discover a true gem that turns out to be not your size. Lately I have seen amazing pieces that were too big, or more often too small, and well, what’s the use in that? But both are too unusual not to share. The following are a few of my recent treasures whose lust I shared with them didn’t turn out to be true love…

Chanel Paper Bag

I recreated this, not so hot.

Marry Me

Marry me. Can't stop listening.
http://www.ilovestvincent.com/

Project

I think Leslie Hall said it best: "lets get crafty." So one lonely Saturday night I was playing with StumbleUpon (obviously, what else would I be doing?) and lucky me discovered the blog of Miss Alisa Burke. This creative stylish goddess has a few crafty fashion tutorials on her blog, along with info on how to purchase her book, "Canvas Remix: Techniques for Creating Mixed Media Accessories." She's pretty fashion savvy in general, but one particular project inspired me: the messy dress.

http://www.leslieandthelys.com/
http://alisaburke.blogspot.com/

Latest Obsession

Saltwater Sandals. I know, they're just shoes. And again, I know that I am basically a walking advertisement for my place of business. But how CUTE are these? So feminine, so youthful, and retro. I think we all had a pair of these when we were little, or something similar (mine were white, and always caked in mud). They're affordable. Trust me. Bottom line: who doesn't love feeling like a kid again? http://www.mysaltwatersandals.com

Thrifty Nifty

Thrifting can be a bittersweet endeavor. If you do it often, and you're good at it, you inevitably come to the realization that you haven't the use, the space, or the cash for the amount of stuff you've uncovered. Fortunately for me, I can unload much of it at the new/used/vintage shop where I work. It's guilt-free impulse shopping at its best. And it can be a truly beautiful experience when your thrifting find is re-discovered by a store patron who adores it as much as you did. You feel like a matchmaker. On a recent thrifting excursion in des moines, alongside my grandmother and great-aunt, I spent a whopping $25 on these assorted goodies (please enjoy the crude detail my cell phone camera offers)...

Saddle Shoes. Tell me what's not to love about the ubiquitous American classic? It's yet another fashion piece that suggests a simpler time, but as relevant today as they were in the 50's.

Vintage leather woven handbag with extended strap. Classic.

I dunno, I just couldn't pass it up. Too sweet. A handmade floral quilted pouch. I thought, makeup? Markers? Marbles? Jewelry? Whatever. Too precious to pass up.

The lovely, and reversible, vintage navy and plaid rain coat. My good friend, and coworker, owns this gem now (it's too perfect that my freaky parents have a mannequin in their living room. Too perfect).

Skirts a'plenty. We are all big on the floral print these days. It harkens back to the early 90's which, surprisingly or unsurprisingly, is popular now and is going for vintage prices. I purchased these two at retirement community for $2 each (I know what you're thinking, some dead lady wore these skirts, but actually most of the garbs are provided by donation). Keeping up with the needs of my university student clientele, chopped them up short with pinking shears. Adorbs.

This pair is, perhaps, my magnum opus. Really stunning. Leather lace-up booties. The best part is the detail in the leather. There are three different shades of brown leather that make up the boots. But it isn't obvious from a far. Only up close is the intricate woven leather and etching detail truly seen.

fucked up

Adieu

First time in my life I was actually excited to come home from vacation. I don’t what that sounds about my life, either the vacation was not up to par, which is not true, or I really want to return to my life. I miss people and things. I miss being able to flush toilet paper. I miss sushi, pho, and grilled cheese. I miss American beer. And God Damn do I miss my hair straightener. It sounds bad, I guess. But I suppose wanting to come home is better than dreading it. I embraced my last couple days. Knowing I would be given shit if I came back as milky white as I arrived, I laid out for an entire 48 hours straight (well, I paused for drinks and nachos). I got drunk and stuffed my face on the last night. I even had dessert (I know, I’m so bad). I made jokes and I got to see my parents laugh. I actually put on makeup for family pictures. I stopped complaining, finally, and let the vacation that was suddenly coming to a close envelop me. It took nine days, but I finally realized that this vacation really helped me “recuperate” from the mundane that is, at times, my life. I also realized that this was one of the last vacations I would have with my parents. I mean sure, we’ll do this later on, but it won’t the same. For one, they won’t pay for everything. I’ll be busier and they will be less mobile (which is definitely not a word I thought would ever describe my parents). This trip my mother sprung on me was, for better or worse, a congratulations for my graduation (and an “I’m sorry life sucks sometimes”) present. But it was more than that. Much more. I think it took me until this morning to realize how much the trip meant to my parents, too. My dad, who tries his hardest to hide his feelings, shed a tear in our hugging embrace. As hard as I tried not to, I did as well. It was in that moment that I knew he wanted to go home too. He wanted to jump on that plane with my mom and I and go back home, where it’s safe. I know he’ll manage his last two weeks alone, but he will inevitably miss our company. Today I said goodbye to the hotel La Princesa, to the sun, the mountains, the palm trees, and the wildlife. But I know I’ll be back.

toast with jaw

all of your typical costa rican specialties: ham and cheese omelet, huevos rancheros, and, of course, toast with jaw.

i carry you in my heart by e.e. cummings

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

My Vacation in Food

• Sunday March 7: pan-fried chicken with mozzarella and mushrooms, steamed carrots
• Monday March 8: brothy black bean soup with fresh pico de gallo. Dinner at 'Citrus', shrimp coconut ceviche, vegetarian nachos, salad with tomatoes, calamari, arugula, and kalamata olive dressing.
• Tuesday March 9: Mexican lunch with mom and I, chilequiles and fajita with assorted vegetables and protein. Dinner at Neopolitan pizzeria (pizza with assorted mushrooms and olives).
• Wednesday March 10: lunch at the hotel, dinner at Coco's (that was the name of the owner, I think the name of the restaurant was the black cat or 'el gato negro'), seared tuna, chili encrusted goat cheese appetizer with green tomato dipping sauce, brownie a la mode for dessert with mixed berry compote.
• Thursday March 11: In Domenical (beachy, hippy town), fried spicy calamari appetizer with drinks, in neighboring Ojochal, hot goat cheese served over toast and mixed greens with some sort of sweet, syrupy dressing on top. Dinner at 'Roca Verde' (where we ended up staying the night, involuntarily), grilled Mahi Mahi and fish tacos.
  
• friday march 12: fruit platter and egg sandwich for breakfast at the hotel. Back in San Isidro, we had dinner at the 'argentinian', consisted of an anti-pasta appetizer and a parillada feast, i.e. sizzling grilled veggies and assorted meats brought to the table atop smoking coals (chicken, peppers, chorizo, filet, and pork)....in a word, amazing.
  
• saturday march 13: Farmer's market veggie whole wheat pizza, cafe con leche. Dinner was not so great, the view was amazing but we ordered too many fried things (fried calamari and yucca) before our entree came, which was definitely covered in egg (which my dad is allergic to), though our waiter assured us it was not. It was another case of us being 'lost in translation.' Arroz con pollo back at the chirripo in san isidro for our real dinner.
  

Longfellow

"And the night shall be filled with music.
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs
And as silently steal away."
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Full Pocock Cont'd

Gary's open-air stone and concrete home can be described, in a word as primitive. Like I've said before, he has no electricity and he lives in the jungle. Upon my arrival I was greeted by his small and overly-energetic dog rightfully named "Puff." After 45 minutes of small talk, and enough hunger complaints by yours truly, we were on our way back into town to find food. We decided to find something en route back home (or, rather, our hotel home in San Isidro). On the ride back I wanted to check out the pics of the day on my dad's camera. I had taken a few when my parents weren't looking and wanted to examine my work. And I wanted to show off. They all looked good. I ventured further back in his pictures towards the beginning of my arrival, some dinner pics, all of us dressed up, me on the beach, scenery pics, and then, I realized, I had gone too far back. Oh dear god no. Not after what I had already seen that day. A picture of my mother sleeping. Naked. Why must God spite me this way? I closed my eyes and forced the camera in my dad's direction, sitting in the passenger seat. "I think I went too far back," I said. "What? Oh. Uh oh," he responded. Back to the fetal position. Back to no sound but the iPod.

The Full Pocock

I realized today that I better take advantage of my remaining days here by way of blogging. Because as much as a lot of us love the idea of blogging, unless you are abroad, chronicling something new and significant, or in some way being markedly different that your usual self, the mundane inevitably sets in. It's hard to do a blog when nothing happens. So this is me, making something happen. Over the past couple days I have seen too much of my parents. Literally. Two days ago we had an excursion to Uvita. We started our day off by leaving at 8 am (i know, brutal) and driving to a farmer's market in the center of the town. It was mostly gringo wares & produce from their respective organic farms. However, their was one tico (that's what they call natives here) who was selling m.c. escher-inspired clay plates and bowls. I was really intrigued until I came to the sad conclusion that they wouldn't make it in tact back to the states. At the market we met Gary, finally, the infamous vegan hermit who approached me, without either parent around for support, about my post grad plans. I was utterly defenseless. He spoke faster than I could think, at most times, about himself. But even beyond his ego-inducing, spiritual quest babble, it was easy to see how intelligent and kind he really was. When I met him he was a week into a forty-day fast, the fifteenth off which he had taken part in. After a cafe con leche and one piece of organic whole wheat veggie pizza, we decided to follow Gary to his property in search of the perfect waterfall. It was going to be another Oregon Trail knee jerking, bobbling head, four wheel drive wagon ride up the mountain of doom. But it was totally worth it. We got to the trail that led to the mirage of waterfall where my mom and I changed into our swimsuits. Dad went without, well, anything. I had strategically turned my head and closed my eyes at the right moments in order to get by with not a glimpse of my dad, until the end. It pains me to relive this. But here goes...After pulling on our suits my mom and I approached the water. Cold at first, it got warmer as we waded. We swam towards the waterfall only to be pushed away by its force. It was no use. We couldn't even manage a photograph near the falls. I swam to the shore, or the large boulders, where my towel resided and laid out for the duration of our stay. Like I said, I had managed to get by without seeing anything that would burn my eye sockets, when, without even a warning, my parents and Gary, clad in nude tighty whities, approached my towel. I thought I had gone blind. Reeling from the experience, I took the fetal position. It would only be a few minutes until we were back on the road. Please, please, lets get back on the road, I thought. A few minutes later, still reeling from the experience, we approached Gary's humble abode.

No Reservations

"Oysters, by the way, are bisexual in ways undreamed of by career-minded actors. They actually change sex from year to year. If you were to tell an oyster 'Go fuck yourself,' it would probably not be offended. The males of a particular year spew their reproductive juices in a generalized, omnidirectional way-a ubiquitously impregnating cloud that fertilizes whatever's female that year. Picture a swimming pool at Plato's Retreat back in the 1970s. That fat guy at the other end of the pool with the gold chains and the black hair? He's getting you pregnant. Or maybe it's Guccione look-alike by the diving board. No way of knowing. " Anthony Bourdain.

I digress...

My drinking habits have become pitiful post-grad. It's really sad. Back in the day I could drink so much beer, and I did, and I made fun of people who went for girly drinks like vodka cranberry or rum and coke instead of cold beer. But down here, all I want are girly drinks. Go figure. Get this, they have a canned beverage called the "Rancho Mix." I know, it sounds like a bloody mary with too much blood. I haven't quite figured out its entire list of ingredients but what I do know is it contains lime, vodka, and some sort of carbonation. Imagine my delight when I discovered it at a local liquor store. Yes, it's not even 10:00 am and yes I am partaking in this costa rican delight already...

b.i.f.

so today is thursday, right? i keep forgetting. it's hard to remember since my parents and i went on an expedition yesterday morning and didn't get back "home" (san isidro, la princessa hotel) until this afternoon. We left early wednesday morning in search of a beach. Or at least that's what I thought. We stopped at the hippie beaches for a quick drink and a bite and were off to a favorite restaurant of my parents where we ordered a warm goat cheese and apple salad. Upon our arrival to the restaurant, "Exotica," where I was expecting a dance floor and half naked men(?), our car went on the fritz. Not the first time since I have been down here, might I add. The clutch went out, we went to get it fixed at the local firestone tires in town where I, ok WE, partook in a people's magazine crossword from April 2009. I did most of it though. when the car was presumably "done," we drove to gary's (the 50 year-old vegan who lives in the jungle without electricity). note to self: make sure you always have electricity, especially in the jungle, don't fuck around with that shit. it was almost pitch black by the time we got out of there. which we finally did. It was like going to grandmother's house to get to and from gary's. we were blazing trails and traversing shallow rivers before we even approached his "driveway." Once we got outta there we decided to get a quick bite at a hotel restaurant where my parents had stayed a couple years back. One hour, two heinekens and a grilled mahi mahi later (yep, all me) we headed back to san isidro. while it was still pretty early at this point, it was already dark. it gets dark pretty early down here, being so close to the equator and all. we weren't a hundred meters from the restaurant when, drum roll please, the car completely shut down. we had to get the hotel manager to help us push our baby over to the parking lot of a nearby bar and restaurant. it was inevitable, we were staying the night in uvita (oh yeah, that's the name of the town). the upside of everything was the fabulous pool i would have the priviledge of hanging out at the netxt. the downside, of course besides the whole car situation, was staying in the same room as my parents without tv. dad was like, "so do we have to like, talk now?" hahaha. oh dad. of course not. we all took xanax's and passed out. the next day ma and pa waited for the car to get fixed while i waded in the water, listened to sufjan, read anthony bourdain, and generally didn't give a fuck. prude that i am, i only brought a one-piece. i know, right? i'm 22 and i bathe like a 50 year-old. whatever. i realized, wearing this one-piece, j.crew i might add, that i officially have a b.i.f. The thing my friends and I made fun of our teachers for having in middle school. We even made a video about it featuring one 12 year-old wearing a pillow in her pants to demonstrate. A b.i.f., i suppose i should point out, is a "butt in front." What are you gonna do? Too much beer and too much college fun are the guilty parties. Back home now, after a long day of travelling, finally taking advantage of the comforts of home, like being on my laptop, i have decided it is finally time to day drink and get sentimental. oh how i wish the gardener was a pool boy and thirty years younger...

False Pretences

While the pretences under which I was brought here were less than celebratory, my trip has certainly become something to celebrate. If you know me, you know I've had a tough couple weeks. That being said, I am a lucky girl. You never realize how lucky you are, or were, until times are tough. Or in my case, icky. I have a pretty awesome family, one that will fly me to Costa Rica at the drop of a hat. Like money is no object, when in reality it is the object of most of their troubles. I have some pretty tremendous friends, many of which I have neglected in my naiive attempt to become my own person. Ew. The truth is, I have no idea who I am or what I want to do with my life. I never realized how important having a foundation of good people around me was until, well, right now. It's good to know you are there, you people who know who you are. I love you all (I feel like I'm writing an Oscars speech, but I won't be thanking God). Enough of the sappy shit. On to my adventures in Central America! So I awoke at 3:30 on the morning of the 7th. Got my kid sister to drive my grouchy ass to the airport when she had left work but two hours prior. Travelled to Houston en route to San Jose, with but a 45 minute layover, enough time to grab a bite of Tex Mex. Don't ask me why I chose that particular epicurean fiasco. The next flight was 3.5 hours long. I decided early on I would bite the bullet, pay the $6 credit card fee so I could have full access to prime time television and movies on demand. Yes I watched Blind Side and Parenthood and yes I cried during both. I sat next to an extremely polite young gentlemen who was returning home after a spring break spent in Michigan and Chicago. I know, right? We're all wondering wtf he was doing in 20 degree weather when all we want is to kick it in his climate. He was a great guy. I only learned his life story during the last half hour of the flight. I was anti-social and weepy most of the time. Damn you pre-menstrual cycle! I finally arrived in San Jose around 2:00, confused, disoriented, tired. If you've travelled internationally you know the feeling. Once inside the airport I went through a grueling 45 minute customs circus only to be denied entry into the country due to the narcotics stuffed in my anus. Kidding! My parents greeted me at the entrance, and off we went on our 3 hour car ride to San Isidro (save for the two stops we made at a Costa Rican Sam's Club and, of course, a bar).