Architectural Bits--A Tour of SF Exteriors

*All photos were taken by Andrea in San Francisco in 2012 from June through July.
*The sketch drawing is by Paul Madonna.

Build That Dark Wood Stained Craft Table

There’s always been this trend of looking nostalgically towards the past. After a few decades, we look back. Either we hate the fashions or we wear them with pride. These last couple of years has been heavily influenced by minimalism. We crave the simple life: farms, rooster calls, summer linen drying in the breeze, homemade jam, shared gatherings underneath the stars. Currently, blogs are ranting about how you must DIY your life—drink mint lemonade or Tennessee whiskey out of mason jars, sew some flowers on your shirt, and collect shells for a necklace. It’s been enough solicitation that I am starting to get sick of it. Why do we need to be constantly reminded of the simple pleasures in life that already exist? If they are so simple, then we shouldn’t need to make an endless effort to complete them. Why has slowing down become exceedingly hard for us to achieve?

Perhaps our forgetfulness is linked to technology. We’ve got everything we could want at our fingertips. We are lazy. Let’s watch another episode of Portlandia. Take-out sounds good tonight. We aren’t required to physically work for our food like our father’s father’s did in the past—hunting deer and slow cooking it over the fire. Dinner comes in a can now. The grocery store has everything we could ever want, year round. Unfortunately, that isn’t how nature works. We shouldn’t be allowed to buy a banana from Jamaica or Kiwi from Australia 365 days a year. Nonetheless we do it because we have outsmarted Mother Nature. Thus, our own skills have turned society around full circle. We are at the point where we can’t think for ourselves. (I always use a calculator because I avoid doing mathematical equations in my head at all costs.) We longingly gaze back at where we started from: simplicity in the 1800s never smelled sweeter (minus the diseases).  

We don’t, however, live in the age of Thoreau where we can chill at Walden Pond for unlimited months and write about dandelion seeds scattered in the wind. We’ve got work to do. But, in today’s tech world, with everything able and ready for us, we should have a lot more time to make that dark wood stained craft table seen in Kinfolk. So what’ the problem? We are over stuffing our schedules with additional work. We are neglecting our leisure agenda and not setting aside enough time to do things we enjoy. Also, the thought of making something ourselves is tiresome when everything else comes instantaneously. What we need is to reprioritize.

I guess all of those fancy blog posts about listening to the sound of the waves or making your own apartment herb garden have worthwhile intentions. Though it’s all I see 24/7 on the blogs that I read, it is necessary to keep repeating the mantra: Slow down. Enjoy your life. Slowing down takes time. That is the entire point. And in the twenty-first century, every day gets harder and harder to move into this backward mindset. Just the same as setting a morning alarm, we have to remind ourselves that we are living to live.

Words + photo by Andrea Dumovich

The Joy of Being

Eternity In An Afternoon – by Rebecca Martin / Kinfolk Issue 4

“The days are long,” say other moms who see me toting my baby around. “But the years are short,” they always add. They mean carpe diem, or something like it: this time won’t last forever, so enjoy the moments while she’s still small. But in my experience, the days fly. Between lifting her out of her crib at daybreak and laying her down for the night, I feel like I’m chasing down the clock.

             I pull her from the crib, change her diaper and her clothes (sometimes twice, if I’m unlucky), and head for the kitchen. I’m always surprised: eight-thirty already? But the glowing green numbers on the stovetop don’t lie. Breakfast is a longer meal than it used to be, and I’m learning to savor the calm time with my daughter; the carpe diem lesson applies here. But then we’re off to play, and in no time it seems, to sleep again: morning nap. If I’m disciplined, I write. I fill up an hour and a half with words and imaginings. Otherwise, I twiddle the time away on food prep and house straightening and blogs and emails. Either way, the wake-up cry sounds from below sooner than I expect, and I’m down to the baby’s room for diapering, lunch, errands, more play if we can squeeze it in, and then another nap, the afternoon one.

            Here is where the hours begin to stretch out. I allow myself a couch sit and a drink: coffee if it’s an early nap, wine if it’s later. I read, I doze, I watch something on the BBC and stitch on an embroidery piece that’s been lying around for several months. And I start to feel antsy. Nap time is me time, and yes, I savor it. But now I grow a little lonely, especially in the waning afternoon light. I wander the upstairs indecisively. I go down to the kitchen and heat up milk. I make sure the sippy cup is washed and ready. I check the stovetop clock. I actually stalk the nursery door. And then I hear it! The first peep of waking.

            I sweep up the baby and we sit, together, snuggled in the armchair by the dining room window. She is warm and soft, still halfway between sleep and waking. She drinks her afternoon milk and leans into me. I give her a squeeze and look out the window, lit by white lights from the inside and sunset glow from the outside.

            “Never wake a sleeping baby,” everyone says. But for this, I would. This is our tradition. This is my favorite part of the day. The time may fly, but this is the moment I want to keep for eternity.

(The painting "Mother" is by Mary Cassatt)

Picnic Perfect

(How jealous am I of that portable picnic record player. Photo by Frolic.)

Happy July 1st! How can you have a lovely picnic? It's easy. All you need is preparation and a willingness to have a nice time with friends. Get over your laziness and do something fun!

For my picnic yesterday I made asparagus, goat cheese, lemon, tarragon pasta. I found the recipe from Smitten Kitchen here. It's incredibly simple. The only problem is that the asparagus and goat cheese cost a bit more than you may be willing to spend if on a budget. Still, it's entirely worth it. I made a pound of tasty pasta for eleven dollars. I served it cold.

For dessert, you've got to try this strawberry-rhubarb pie. It screams summer with bright pink and red strawberry juice that will stain your clothes. I improvised at the last second by making two pies instead of one. Since I only prepared enough dough for one pie I ended up not having a pie crust for the tops. It turned out fine, though it might not win a beauty pie contest. I was worried that the filling was too juicy and would make the crust saggy, not to mention challenging to eat. But after the first bite I knew that it turned out precisely perfect. I would only recommend toning down the sugar suggested in the recipe. The strawberries surely suffice as an added sweetness. Make it here. You'll want to prep the dough the night before. It's super easy and makes for a very worthy crust. You can read up on the dough recipe here.

(That's my strawberry-rhubarb pie.)