My new home.

Inspirations from East town, Grand Rapids:

Residential: Imagine a place that has twisting, hilly streets laid with cobbles and lined with aging trees. These trees watch while children play hopscotch on the sidewalk below and, if the knobby oaks are lucky, an adventurous child (away from parental view) may make their way up the old yet sturdy pulp. The wonder of the shade comes close only to the wonder of an orange popsicle on these hot summer days, but the possibilities of this tree reach much further than the sticky mess of a frozen treat. The joy of a popsicle lasts only until ingestion, but the trees will stand there, day after day, ready to make a pirate ship out of a large limb or a wood world known only to those who have the right password and the right currency.

Restaurant(al): A few blocks from this place, a couple eats breakfast that looks like sunshine. Simple ingredients are fine for most restaurants, but this one uses something out of the ordinary to feed its guests. This place creates dishes (not bakes or broils or fries, but creates) not for the love of money but for the love of food and community. Over their last sips of hazelnut coffee, tastes of a magical breakfast dance in the bellies of the young lovers as ease dances in their hearts.

Fundamental: Just a skip away from the laundromat (which is equipped with giant rotating fans that could provide an airplane with lift-off and an oversized black labrador with the nicest disposition in all of Grand Rapids) is the local Farmer's Market. Inhabitants of the area flock here, finding gems as small as blueberries and as bright as sunflowers and, knowing they've helped their neighbors, leave with smiles and satisfaction and baskets full of goods.

Essential: In this moment, I find myself enjoying my umpteenth cup of magnificent coffee with the sounds of motown wafting through the bean-filled air. This tea/coffeehouse is hipster heaven, with racks of off-the-beaten-path periodicals and enough lit-up Macbook apples to light a small home. Two men sit to my left wearing wingtip shoes and bowler hats but they only have enough money to drink the free cups of water. I feel oddly at home here, with the poor yet fashionable outcasts, willing to invest more in art and music than in food (which is why so many of us are vegetarians). And, when we do find some spare change, we spend it on coffee, the perfect appetite suppressant and bitter yet smooth, just the oxymoron we were looking for.

Conclusion(al): The truth is, I've felt at home in all of the places I've described above, a rarity for a Traverse City native (one who has felt out of place since she left for college three years ago). I suppose it is a rarity for anyone to start to feel at home any place that isn't where they grew up. But, I am growing accustomed to these uneven roads, the cobbles concaving and convexing alongside my feelings of displacement yet comfort...

...just the oxymoron I was looking for.

life and coffee houses

I am stuck in a rut, unable to conjure the words, unwilling to submit my mind solely to writing for one class, or studying for one exam, or preparing for one presentation. The walls that inclose me in my small place usually allows me to organize my thoughts better, to compartmentalize them to fit neatly into the space I have. But I have barely enough room to flip a pancake without bumping my elbow into the sink faucet, let alone organize my each and every worry, let alone lay out the load of school work I have for the week, let alone fold and make compact all of my belongings. Sometimes, no amount of planning or organizing can get me in the mood for homework, or make me feel free of the storm of responsibilities raining on my life.

Pay bills, stop bills, move out, move in, pack, unpack, backpack full, backpack emptied on the desk the floor the bed, sleep three hours maybe four, backpack back partially packed with my mind packed of information to gather-remember-regurgitate-write-rewrite for class, class then work, work then homework, homework then sleep, packing and unpacking and packing and unpacking and packing again. And then, when I have dealt with the happenings of today, I unpack my thoughts about the future, give them a moment, give them some respect and tears and admit my fear of the years ahead, and then I pack them back up. Start again. 

And where is my release from this rain? Where is the umbrella that keeps me dry, lets me hear the pitter-patter of life, but shields me from the pangs of the tear, I mean rain, drops? 

I've found a release, my friends, I've found a release in coffee houses. It is here that I can produce as a student, a thinker, a human. 

It's not just the caffeine, though the bitterly dark and smoothly hot drink does lull me so. Rather, it's the hum of the espresso grinder, the softness of the eclectic music, the smell of the coffee bean and the hue of the lighting. The atmosphere, the looks of contemplation, the hugs from old friends. Here I can focus my energy on one project and then the next, here I am free to think.

This is my happy place; somehow it makes me feel like I can handle, at least partially, what it is that I need to do. Call me crazy, but when I make it through life's current messes and move onto the next set of messes, I will thank (at least in part) my various coffee places. Then I will pack up, and with coffee in hand, start again. 

banjos and carrot cake

First, a treat! Curtis Eller Performing at Viceroy in Grand Rapids. He was such a joy to see!

Second, another treat! I promised a vegan carrot cake made in a very small kitchen, and here it is! 

I must say, it wasn't quite as challenging or disastrous as I predicted, which possibly made for extremely boring blogging. However, I did discover a few tips worth noting...

     1. Do the project in phases. Measure dry ingredients and store in some tupperware for later.

     2. Do the dishes from the dry ingredients.

     3. Shred carrots. 

     4. Do the dishes from the carrots.

     5. Measure and mix all wet ingredients, set aside.

     6. Mix all ingredients, bake.

     7. Get sick of doing dishes, so wait to do the rest until morning :)

Anyway, here's a breakdown of the recipe and my process all designy and overcomplicated - hope you enjoy!

FULL SIZE

functional duality

For the sake of starting off on the easy foot, this post will be extremely picture heavy! It will also be text heavy...


For the sake of starting off on the right foot, please enjoy this musical treat while you read! (Or before or after you read, for those of you who have troubles listening to words while reading other words): 

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Studio living is so luxurious. It's almost like living in a hotel. The fridge is smaller, the bathroom has that lingering wet smell, the closet space is perfectly sized for a weekend away. One of my favorite aspects of studio living/hotel staying is the combination of the living room and bedroom all in one. Except, with this studio, I have room for either the bedroom OR the living room. Which to choose?


The Problem: Well, I refused to choose between a living space or a sleeping space. I also (being a poor college student, as they say) had limited money to find a solution.


The Solution: My quick and easy fix was to purchase a daybed with a trundle, that way if a guest ever braved the stay over here, they would not be forced to sleep in the bathtub. I could find many viable daybeds on craigslist, though few included the trundle. After figuring the amount for the daybed, the separate amount for the trundle, the cost of a mattress (Elliot's parents, thank goodness, donated the second), and the cost of all the pillows to make the cast iron bed frame more comfortable, I was in over my head.


Why not just take away the bed frames, stack two mattresses, and call it good? It'll be easy enough to slide one mattress off of another to make a bed (or two) at night and stack them to make a couch at day! And here is what I came up with:

Two king size pillows make a perfect 'couch' backing (the white pillows seen here).
They also are the perfect size for a pillow hugger like myself.

My move is still in progress, but I have big plans for that white ledge up there.
Picture-less frames will serve as a fine filler for now :)

Oh, hello. Did I mention I am obsessed with Ball Jars?
Not only are they good for containing delicious jams an other preserved and pickled products,
they make fine candle holders, battery holders, and I'm thinking for this tall one here - perhaps a summer vase?

Of course, no self-respecting couch in any living room stands alone.
Since I went with a crazy (I mean, AWESOME) pattern for the couch/bed,
I kept it simple but ultra comfy for the chair.

How does one achieve ultra-comfyness?
1. Line it with a (faux) furry blanket,
2. Make sure there's a second blanket
3. Add a pillow

I am so happy with this quilt I found for the couch/bed.
I worried at first the pattern would clutter the eye while it viewed all of my other clutter.
On the contrary, the consistency of the pattern makes my space look rather organized.

Also, I am so glad I went with a quilt rather than a comforter. The stitching makes it really durable and the lack of fluff (which originally concerned me, for I love fluff) allows the blanket to make really clean lines on the edge of the mattresses. No fluff also means no fluffing! I've not yet had to wipe out wrinkles or bulges in fabric.

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Hold onto your hats, kids! While this post was exhilarating to say the least (hah!), the next post will be sure to document a disaster: a chronicling of my first attempt at making a VEGAN cake (type of cake is yet to be determined), alongside of my first attempt at baking in my pigeonhole of a kitchen. Stay tuned!

SSB

prologue.

I naively did not listen to my mother when she said to me: "Sam, there is going to be a time in college when you live in a really crappy, cheap place." Surely, I thought, it would never get to that point.


Well, now it has gotten to that point. What's that old saying? Mothers know best? Or...


All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That's his.  

[Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest]

Well, in the true spirit of becoming like my mother, I am taking this crappy, small, cheap, and currently cold studio apartment and making the best of it. I have roughly the same amount of space as my freshman dorm, and somehow I have acquired loads more of possessions, but I can make this place snug as a bug in a rug, and with much more flair. 

Because as "crappy" as this place is, there really is a lot of beauty in it. Sure, the fact that the house was built roughly around 1910 makes it creaky and oddly proportioned and climately challenged. Yes, there are quirks about the electricity - like the fact that I can't run the coffee maker and microwave simultaneously without blowing a fuse. Of course I will have to deal with the musty 'old' smell. But the place is well equipped with very charming aspects as well: the 10 inch white floorboards and wide white trim around doorways and windows, the built-in yellow vanity in the bathroom, the oversized and older-than-life-itself tree outside of my window. 

This blog will be an exploration of how to live in a little place but with limitless expectations. I will reveal how to cook in the tiniest kitchen known to man, how to creatively furnish a bedroom/living room with no couch or bed, and how to deal with grandma's favorite pastel yellow tiled bathroom (that happens to also be carpeted). I think most intriguing will be the adventure of fitting all of my things into this cubbyhole and keep it from looking too cluttered. 

Because friends, I have big plans. I want to try cooking gourmet things, I want to do yoga in the morning, I want to have friends over to share a meal or a good conversation. I want a space that will nurture me on my journey, that will take care of me during the sleepless study nights and the slept-in summer mornings. And I will do this all in my little, limitless place.

* * * * * * * * * *

Coming soon: a couch bed!