Mighty Girl is one of the blogs I have been reading since shortly after I discovered blogs, over a decade ago. I love the writing, I love the photos, I love the ideas. Today's post really made me think.

Playing the video and thinking about what it says, this has an awful lot of merit. At the same time, I think there is a lot of privilege in the idea of "just do what you love and the money will follow." It may be true that the money will follow, but life doesn't stop costing money just because you are starting to follow your passion. The "DWYLATMWF" premise assumes that you have a support system to keep you going in the meantime: parents, a significant other, savings, a patron, a government grant... Otherwise what do you eat? Where do you live? How do you pay your medical bills? For anyone who isn't starting out from a position of privilege, Do What You Love is going to be a hell of a lot harder. There are a lot of people for which "Do What You Gotta and Maybe You Can Pay the Bills" feels like an aspiration.

What are your thoughts? How do we make DWYLATMWF realistic for more people? I'd certainly love to make it work in my own life. Is passion enough to build the bridge from that point A to point B, or does it also require circumstances that may be beyond your control.

In my own life, in my own family, I look at how to make this work. What does it take to make this work? What does it mean if you can't?

After reading Tara Austen Weaver's account, on Tea & Cookies, of her walk through the labyrinth on Lummi Island and the small pile of little things (stones and shells, mostly) that she found there, I started thinking of a similar walk I took a couple of years ago.

In early fall of 2010, my boyfriend and I bicycled out to Governor's Island, on the northern edge of Lake Mendota. We spent a golden afternoon wandering around the edge of the island, and exploring the small trails through the little woods. In one shaded area, I found a small shrine or altar. It was very crude, made of things that one would find on hand there in the woods, but it was still quite recognizable. Sitting on top were a number of small objects, including several dollar coins.

I didn't take any photos, because by that point the late afternoon light was too dim under the cover of the trees, though I wish I could have. I don't know who made the altar, nor for what specific purpose. I certainly didn't touch the objects on the altar, particularly the coins. I figured that, sooner or later, someone would come along, disturb the altar and pocket the coins. But I was not going to be that person.

It isn't uncommon to see roadside shrines: crosses, flowers, maybe balloons or stuffed animals, marking the scene of a fatal accident. It is also pretty common to come across places like the Dickeyville Grotto, which are built with genuine love and respect, but are also pretty public. Something like this, in such a quiet place, stumbled-upon, rather than displayed, seems unique. Yet there are probably just as many quiet, out-of-the-way little altars and shrines as there are in full view. You just have to be there to find them.

This recipe from Forgiving Martha caught my eye on Pinterest about a month ago, and I finally got around to trying it. The verdict is yum.

The pudding is very simple and very rich. Jess' recipe yields two servings, and you will find that a serving is quite filling. This isn't low calorie (my calculations say that it is about 282 per serving) but it is vegan, if you are looking for that.

The next time I make this, I think I will substitute honey for the agave nectar. I like honey much better. It will alter the flavor profile a bit, but it would be interesting to try.

Another thing I will do differently is to blend it in a smaller jar, or use an immersion blender. The small quantity of pudding didn't work very well in my full, large blender. I had to keep stopping the motor and stirring with a spatula to get the mixture back into the blades. In the end, I left some of the avocado unblended, so there were tiny chunks of green floating throughout the creamy brown chocolate. I was ok with this, but I'm sure that other people might find it less than appetizing if I were sharing this.

Since this spring, I have been working my way through Liana Krissoff's Canning for a New Generation: Bold, Fresh Flavors for the Modern Pantry. So far, I have made rhubarb and orange jam, pickled asparagus, kohlrabi and radish refrigerator pickles, brandied cherries with red wine, and peach jam. Everything has been extremely tasty and surprisingly easy.

Krissoff's writing style is clear and easy to follow, infusing a touch of gentle humor with understandable descriptions and directions. Rinne Allen's gorgeous photography also goes a long way towards making the book a delight to hold and read.

One truly wonderful thing about the book is that the recipes are geared towards small batches, which work well for the modern pantry. Most of the preserved fruits I have made have been in quantities about about six half-pint jars. This allows me to make a variety of recipes without becoming overwhelmed by a wall of canned goods.

The book is divided into Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter, and then subdivided into Fruits and Vegetables for each section. Along with the pickles and preserves, Krissoff includes a few recipes that incorporate the things you have canned. I am particularly looking forward to trying her "Perfect Sidecar" with my brandied cherries.

One cruel thing about summer canning (particularly this summer) is that you end up spending time with a lot of boiling water during the hottest part of the year. (It was in the high 90's when I made my rhubarb orange jam...at that point, I figured I would hardly even notice the extra heat.) However, the occasional cool evening is the perfect time to hit the kitchen.

I don't think I will make every recipe in the book, but I do have hopes for at least one fruit and one vegetable from each seasonal section. I may even start freestyling as my CSA bounty comes in. I do remember having some success with dill pickled summer squash and zucchini a few years back.

The book may be "For a New Generation", but I come from a long line of canners. Shortly after I began my canning journey, in June, my Grandmother died. She was my Dad's mother and, at 92, she was my last remaining grandparent. One of the things I brought back with me from her house after the funeral was the jar lifter that she and Grandpa had used in their canning. It was a step up from my clumsy rubberband-wrapped tongs, and I think of my heritage every time I use it. I have a feeling that, at some point, canning jars from my grandparents (and great-grandparents) may make their way into my kitchen. It turns out that we aren't just preserving produce when we do this.

Inspired, in part, by Maggie Mason, of Might Girl I started my own Life List back in November. I think it is time to post it, and see what I have done so far (completed items will be crossed out).

• Own my own home
• Take voice lessons
• Swim at a beach with warm, crystal clear ocean water
• Take a train trip coast to coast (and back?)
• Own a dog (or two?)
• Revisit NYC
• Visit San Francisco
• Visit Seattle
• Visit New Orleans
• Visit Savannah
• Pass the Madison Parks and Beaches swim test and get out to the diving platform at B.B. Clarke Beach
• Go canoe camping on the Wisconsin River
• Get belay certified at Boulders
• Throw an event/party for at least 100 people
• Have my art for sale in a brick and mortar business
• Take part in (and finish) a bike ride of at least 100 miles
• Have an entire outfit that is tailor made for me
• Learn how to go underwater without having to plug my nose
• Take the car ferry across Lake Michigan
• Spend some time in Door County
• Spend some time in the Apostle Islands
• Learn to ballroom dance without tripping over my own feet
• Learn to contra dance without tripping over my own feet
• Healthy 125
• Learn to use a chef's knife like a pro
• Revisit Cape Breton
• Revisit Montreal
• Set foot in every continent (except maybe Antarctica...no way)
• Go to a session and play at least 50% of the songs
• Busk
• Stay with friends at Camp Lake Resort (Fairyland!) for at least a long weekend
• Raise chickens
• Go to grad school
• Act in a play
• Get my CPR and First Aid re-certification
• Go to Comic-Con with my brother
• Take the Union sailing course
• Learn to whistle
• Update my blog more regularly
• Update the look and feel of my blog

Also, while I haven't yet learned to use a chef's knife like a pro, I did take an hour-long class on it through the Willy St. Co-op, and have been practicing the techniques we were shown. Practice is the thing.

The last two items currently on that list are things I just added today, but I think they are important. I used to blog on a daily basis, and then things got in the way. Not important things. Just things. I'd like to get back to it. I also need to update the design and the back-end, because the comment spam is getting redonkulous.

"Make, Do" seeks to leverage the potential of arts and culture industries, grow the creative economy, and inventory communities' cultural assets. The program builds upon findings in the City of Madison's Cultural Plan, which identified lack of workspace as one of the greatest needs. At the same time, underused or vacant commercial, retail, and industrial space suitable for art workspace is available throughout the county with an untapped potential for the reuse of a variety of structures, from storefronts to barns.

I love the idea of looking at vacant commercial, retail, and industrial space and saying, "Maybe instead of leaving this empty and not creating any revenue, let's see about renting it to artists." I don't know exactly what it will lead to, but it's an excellent way of thinking outside the normal lines, and I'm certainly going to keep this on my radar.

The are currently looking for input from artists, creative workers, local government zoning/building staff, and property owners, managers and agents. Go take a look and take one of the surveys if appropriate.

I'm starting to sift through my photos and pick out what I might want to print for the WisCon art show. Some of these might work, but I'd love second opinions.

I didn't see any films on Friday night, since I was at the Overture Center singing in Verdi's Requiem for most of the evening. But first thing Saturday morning, we were off to see Jiro Dreams of Sushi at the Orpheum.

During the pre-show announcements, they mentioned how many sushi restaurants there were within a five minutes walk of the theater. Good thing they did, because I'm pretty sure everyone left the theater dreaming of sushi as well.

While the film wasn't quite as meditative as The Meaning of Tea, it was very peaceful and refreshing. I have an admiration for people like Jiro Ono, who thrive on simplicity and order, and who can do the repetitive work needed to achieve excellence at something. I don't work that way myself: I like the idea of simplicity, but I tend towards complexity, variety, and a wee bit of chaos. But the contrast between my way of life and Jiro's made it particularly pleasant to watch.

The visuals were great. If you didn't want sushi by the end of the film, you probably never liked sushi to begin with. Piece after piece of perfect nigiri was lovingly filmed in lingering close-up shots. Mouth watering. Trips to the fish market were slightly less mouthwatering, but far from disgusting. It is easy to forget how crazy huge tuna are. It's rather a shame how divorced we get from what and where the food we eat comes from.

In some tiny way, I was reminded of Great, a webcomic by Ryan Armand (KIWIS BY BEAT!). Jiro doesn't seem to have much in common with Lyle Phipps (who is often an angry sad sack) but I found myself thinking of Lyle's drive to create the greatest ramen in the world. (I also found myself wanting ramen.)

Later in the day we stopped at T. Sushi, to give the newest sushi restaurant a try. It was good, but definitely no Sukiyabashi. I might go there again, but it won't be at the top of my list of Madison sushi restaurants. (I have a hard time taking a sushi restaurant seriously if you order tea and are given a cup of hot water and a generic food-service tea packet.)

Next up: Raiders of the Lost Ark: The Adaptation

Kirby Ferguson, a New York-based filmmaker, created an interesting and engaging 4-part short video series called Everything is a Remix, in which he discusses the process of creativity in which we build on the work of others to make something new, and in turn have our work built upon by others. He also talks about the original intentions of both copyright and patent, and the effect that the modern ideas of intellectual property are having on the process of creativity.

It is well worth a watch. He also has a new project in the works, called This is Not a Conspiracy Theory, which is going to be about politics. I'm looking forward to seeing where he goes with it.

Not practical. Not practical at all. And yet, how fun would it be to have a lovely wall display of your CSA bounty? Perhaps if you were also making sure to eat what you have very regularly. After all, refrigeration is a fairly new concept.

Jihyun Ryou doesn't seem to actually be trying to replace the fridge, so much as to get us to think about the role of technology in our lives, and how we interact with the world around us through that technology. In what ways does it help us, and in what ways does it keep us from connecting with that world.

Non-refrigerated food for thought, as it were.

In The New Yorker,Nick Paumgarten describes the fascinating process by which the names were arranged for the The National September 11 Memorial in New York:

Arad arranged the requests using index cards. Each pairing set off a chain reaction, the strings of connection growing ever more tangled and frayed. There were two thousand nine hundred and eighty-two names. The deeper he and his staff got into this puzzle, the more complex it became, especially in light of the aesthetic requirements: for example, he didn't want names lining up evenly atop each other, lest there be gutters between them. He had to factor in the number of letters in each name. He had to consider the leading.

Even if you are not a typography nerd, it is a pretty good read.

Yarn bombing, knitted graffiti, crafty tagging... Maybe you've heard of it. Maybe you've seen it in the wild. This street art has been around for at least a decade (possibly earlier) and is now getting notice in The New York Times. The article is brief, but very interesting and informative.

I found three things to be particularly worthy of note. First was the contrast between the male dominance of traditional graffiti and street art, versus the traditional feminine orientation of the yarn-based work.

Next was the degree of "I'm better than that because I've been in galleries" attitude from one of the knitters profiled:

Olek, whose work has been shown in museums and galleries worldwide, considers yarn bombing to be the trite work of amateurs and exhibitionists.

"Lots of people have aunts or grandmas who paint," she said. "Do you want to see that work in the galleries? No. The street is an extension of the gallery. Not everyone's work deserves to be in public."

Deliciously snobby, neh?

Finally (and not entirely surprising) was the fact that was started out as DIY, crafty, underground, etc has been co-opted by a number of Fortune 500 companies for advertising purposes. Certainly not the first time for such a thing.

Ryan Novelline has constructed a exquisite, couture ballgown out of Golden Books. The link not only has some great photos of the dress, but excellent documentation of the process. Showing your work: not just for math class. I love it!

I want to pass the word along on this, as well as making something of a bookmark/reminder for myself.

There is a call for artists for the Habitat Restore Annual Salvage Art Show and Auction in October of 2010.

The Salvage Art Show will be juried by professional artists. Interested artists will submit three examples of their work, which will be evaluated on such elements as originality, design, composition, subject matter, choice of materials, and skill of execution. Submissions to the jury will be due by May 22. Artists will be notified of their status during the week of June 1.

Worth a try, I think.

Since December, I have been working on a painting for the wall of the nursery for the new son of my good friends. We have been referring to it as "the mural", though we decided to paint it on masonite and mount it to the wall, rather than paint it directly on. That way, if they move or he outgrows it, the painting can be moved.

Just getting the board home from Menards proved to be quite a trick. It was too big to fit in the car, so it had to go on top. M. and I had enough rope to tie it down, but we didn't have enough rope to make it really secure against gusts of wind at the front. So we rolled down the windows and drove really slowly, each of us with one hand out and up, hold the board down as the wind tugged at it. We laughed at our own ridiculousness pretty much non-stop all the way home.

The painting was a copy of a scene from Trina Schart Hyman's Saint George and the Dragon illustrations. N. had wanted a scene with actual dragn fighting, but we decided that it might be too scary for a really wee one, so we picked another interesting scene.

After gessoing the board, I traced the picture with the help of a projector.

Then I began the long process of turning that drawing into a painting.

Since I was using acrylic paints to copy a watercolor, I decided to mostly use washes or color, with only a few thicker areas here and there, and to let the pencil lines remain part of the finished look.

The last step (for me) came this Sunday, as I painted a bright red border around the edge to frame it.

Now all that remains is to get it mounted on the wall in the nursery. I'm looking forward to seeing it up, and I'll post a picture when it is. Both M. and N. were quite pleased with how it turned out.

I must admit, I was quite nervous when I started. I haven't really painted much since college, which was ages ago, and even then I was more of a photographer than a painter. My paintings tended to be very stylized and abstract. But Trina Schart Hyman is one of my favorite artists, and M. and N. are two of my favorite people, so I couldn't not do it.

If you care to, you can also see a slideshow of the photos above.

A friend of mine passed me the link for this video, a 5+ minute rough cut "teaser" for a series called In the Room.

I don't know much more about it than what you can find on the Vimeo page, but it looks really neat and I'd love to see the finished product. The one thing that I do know is that my friend's step-mother is the composer in the 4th segment.

Check it out!

In my inbox, passing along to you Madison-area folk:

Hello All-
One of our very talented members, Taya Kuklina, is offering up her expertise to you. Beginning this Friday, she will be offering the following classes. There is no cost for the classes, but a suggested donation of $5.00 to help the collective keep going and the ability to offer these classes in the future. Interested parties should e-mail us right away as they will fill up very quickly. Here are the days and times of the classes:

Thanks again, and happy art making!
Kurt Rossbach
Evolution Arts Collective

This is what my nephew said when asked what he wanted for a birthday cake this year. (He turned 3 in January.) My sister and I were very amused at this. At the last minute, he changed his mind and wanted a happy snowman. It was excellent, just the same.

Cake making/frosting is a skill I am still learning, but it is fun to practice.

Step one: trim the cakes.

I had two round chocolates and a round of lemon (which turned out very thin, hence the stacking.) Trimming cakes = yummy snack time!

Another view of the trimmed cakes.

Step two: apply crumb coat.

The cakes were just from store-bought mixes, but the frosting was homemade. I must admit, frosting is so easy to make that I doubt I'll buy it again. So much tastier, too. Plus, I'll take butter over partially hydrogenated whatever oil any day, thanks.

Step three: spread the rest of the frosting in a nice, thick layer, joining the edges of the cake together.

Another nice thing about homemade frosting: I had just the right amount for the cake, without running out *or* having gobs and gobs of extra.

Step four: give snowman chocolate chip face, chocolate-covered peanut buttons, and pretzel arms. He is a happy snowman, indeed.

When the birthday boy saw the cake, his first comment was "Snowmen don't have pretzels for arms," since he is will aware that their arms are made of sticks. He is quite the connoisseur of "Frosties." I assured him that it was ok, since these were pretend sticks for a pretend snowman. He seemed mollified at that.

Step five: light candles, sing "Happy Birthday" and let the child blow them out.

He did an excellent job of getting them all out, and without spitting on the cakes. Then my brother introduced him to the joy of licking the frosting off the ends of the candles.

It was a delicious cake, and I was very happy with how it turned out. Nothing fancy, but exactly what the occasion required.

Ok, I really need to get these finished, as they have been left at this state for well over 9 months now. I really don't have a great reason for that, other than they got put away and forgotten about for a while.

These bags are made from some of the many, many pieces of scrap decorator samples that I have acquired. They are a nice, heavy-duty cotton. The inside and the outsides of the bags don't quite match, being from two different sample sets, but they do go together quite nicely.

I still need to sew the handles on, and perhaps give them a snap or button of some sort to close them. I might put them up in the Market when I'm all finished. We'll see.