Today I took my first cup of cold brew coffee out to the backyard to survey our small domain and water our little container garden and I was positively struck with early summer wonder. First off: the simple joys of homemade cold brew are not to be taken lightly and it is ever-so-much more enjoyable than I thought possible to drink it with a cuppow mason jar top. Right now there is a ton of (fabulous-yet-frustrating) construction going on in the backyard as our awesome landlord Bernie and his yappy yorkie Zeus put up new fencing, plant big lovely boxwoods, lay down a patio, occasionally spar at our window with Nipsey the Cat, and make a big mess everywhere including in the cucumber pots. In the midst of the construction chaos, ground strewn with power tools and trash, our little garden is still thriving. Is this a New York parable? Our Early Girls are putting out their first little green maters, late breaking broccoli is rearing its head, zucchinis are blossoming, nasturtiums are up, all of the little hot peppers are putting forth blossoms (the big one already has two peppers on it!), the first strawberries are almost ready to eat, and all of the herbs are thriving. It’s always the little things that matter most.
Category: Happiness
A Moveable Feast
This weekend we had our first ever moveable feast– a progressive dinner moving from course to course, cocktail to cocktail, between our five Brooklyn apartments. It was so very, very lovely… 
We feasted: prosciutto wrapped asparagus with peppadew sauce and lemon honey gin fizzes, roasted pear and arugula salads with cucumber gin tonics, pork carnitas tacos with home pickled onions and fresh tomatillo salsa with micheladas, cheese fondue (!!!) paired with funkily perfect hard ciders, and cool, rich tiramisu with cognac. We walked: from Bed Stuy to Clinton Hill to Fort Greene. All of the ladies rocked the flower party crowns I made. The night was warm the light was perfect, we started under a maple tree in the slanting early summer sun and finished on the roof under the stars watching at the twinkling lights of not-yet-finished One World Trade. All we kept saying was how we live SO close to each other, and how most of us had never even been to each other’s apartments. Here we were- opening our homes, laughing, breaking bread, toasting bubbly, and simply enjoying each other. How marvelous, how easy, how truly lovely.
Infinite thanks to the brilliant Oh Happy Day for the progressive dinner idea (yes, I’ve been thinking about doing this since last November, and yes, follow Jordan’s very helpful tips).
Also from Oh Happy Day- the ahhh-mazing flower party hat tutorial! I can’t recommend this little project enough. It only took me three episodes of Girls, a glass and a half of wine, and $13 worth of supplies from the dollar store to make 6 headbands (with tons of paper left over). Note: I used tissue paper instead of the crepe paper recommended in the tutorial because I couldn’t find any folded crepe paper in the hood, and the tissue paper worked fine. Also- in a moment of divine inspiration, I picked up a loopy stainless steel pot scrubber that I cut up and used for fun shiny/textured centers, you really can use your imagination here… I want to wear a flower party crown everywhere I go- and I think I just might.
Great Googa Mooga!
I went to both days of The Great Googa Mooga this weekend and… I had an awesome time. There’s been a fair amount of backlash about long lines, the weirdness of porta-potties and how sunny it is in an open field in May but… have these people never been to a concert before? Or a bar? Porta Potties are weird. Period. You might have to wait when 7,000 (*update* 40,000!) people want a beer at the same time. Luckily you can listen to the Preservation Hall Jazz Band for free while you’re waiting. Oh well, Haters gonna Hate. And while haters were busy hating, I ate fried leeks, delicious pork pupusas and arepas from Red Hook food truck staple El Olomega, brisket tacos with roasted corn from Hill Country, fried chicken banh mi that tasted like it had old bay in the rub from Joseph Leonard, Coco-Limon y Cucumber-Lime popsicles from La New Yorkina, maple cotton candy, bourbon and bacon caramel corn, and about a thousand beers. Pair that belly with the rowdy beats and Tuba Gooding Jr. of The Roots or the dulcet tones and hair of an amazingly resilient Hall & Oates (jesus, what did they have- 38 #1 hits? every song is amazing!) and how could this get better? Oh yeah, this girl brings you beers while you lay on the grass:
Love and thanks to my wingladies, Smills and Njoki, and to the amazing Mels for holding it down and keeping it real.
Love Locks
From the amazing team that brought you Murmurations, here is a darling little video about Rome’s “love locks”. A new tradition on a 2000 year old bridge, lovers write their names on a lock, affix it to chains spanning the TIber, and symbolically and grandiosely toss the key into the river. Ahh Rome, how I love you.
thanks to dear Sara for the heads up.
Dans le trou de lapin…
Oh, the internet rabbit hole… You know the drill- you start out looking at raw edged wood cutting boards and 38 clicks later you’re inexplicably on a page of Arrested Development gifs feeling hungry or maybe angry. This is not my beautiful house, this is not my beautiful wife, how did I get here? Sometimes, though, all of the clicks seem to lead somewhere, breadcrumbs living up to their name, trailing to a fabulous candy house where the witch plays accordion and doesn’t want to eat you. Such was the case when I stumbled on this awesome image on a life-in-Paris blog that Maman shared with me. As a swarthy accordion player/feather hair-piece wearer myself, I identified with the gentleman in the middle, and, of course, figured Sweetheart for the bearded banjo playing swami on the right. What on earth is this a poster for? When is it from? So… down the rabbit hole (or: dans le trou de lapin) we go. Many clicks later, I discover that “Les Primitifs du Futur” is a sort of gypsy jazz canaille collective featuring various vagabonds on guitar, brass, ukulele, theremin, musical saw, accordion, bandoneon, xylophone, vibraphone, drums… and cult artist (and creator of Mr. Natural) Robert Crumb on banjo. What the wha? Listen here and check out these awesome posters and album art made for the band by R. Crumb hisself.
I mean, really? Ce qu’est un voyage dans le trou de lapin, de l’accordéon dans la patte.
Images (and more music to listen!) from here.
Mama Love
Just spent the weekend with my Mama, cooking and dancing and eating and getting dirty and doing projects and toasting champagne and I just love her so. Daddy found this picture, and it’s a pretty perfect Mama’s day snap- Mama’s holding my just-born cousin Charlotte- with my Grandmother and Charlotte’s Mama in the background. She’s just perfect in black frye boots and a denim maxi skirt that would pass muster on any L train, and me, I’m kicking it hard in turquoise chuck taylors (my brother picked them out and we had matching pairs). We are so much the same, she and I, and I am so thankful for that all of the time. Love you so, Mama.
Live Art
Sweetheart’s dear friend Jared is known for throwing legendary parties. Sweetheart and I actually kissed for the first time after one of his rooftop soirees that featured a bamboo forest and a margarita machine. Needless to say, when Jared is in charge, love is in the air. So, when we headed south to his bride’s hometown, Rincón, Puerto Rico, for their wedding, we knew that it would probably be pretty epic. The whole shebang was absolutely impeccable, gorgeous, perfect, and seemingly effortless- from the fresh coconuts macheted open and filled with rum to the (literally) world caliber reggae band to the peonies and frangipani covering every surface to the… live painting. The brother of the groom flew this incredibly talented artist down and she created the painting above during the wedding reception. This was exactly what it looked like- hanging lanterns, orchids, giant copper pool of waterlilies in the middle of the dancefloor, the last of a sunset sky through nesting colonial arches framing the chuppah and going out to sea. Seeing the painting come together during the night was really, really cool. Naturally a wedding in a tropical paradise with a cast of good looking, photogenic, and wild characters makes for a good time, but who knew it made for good art? Maravilloso.
Read more about the artist, Katherine Gressel, and her process here.
Tiny Bubbles
Nothing could make me thirstier than seeing this legitimate last-of-the-old-guard seltzer delivery man parked on our block. Now, after Sandro ruined Sweetheart’s relationship with the legendary Walter Beckerman in the great Brooklyn unreturned bottle dispute of 2006, our hand has been forced and we’ve gone the way of the soda stream. But, in the same way my heart sings when I get my knives sharpened by the knife grinder, there is somewhat of a New York romance with the seltzer man. May he live long and forever deliver bubbles to the outer boroughs.
A little light Russell
Hey! Is that Mr. Nipsey Russell the Cat doing a little bedtime reading in last week’s New Yorker? Certainly looks like it. When he’s not writing #1 hits, what else has Mr. Russell been up to? Getting in Trouble…
Getting dressed up…
Hanging out with Hemingway…
And just hanging out…
What a busy guy. He’s got so much on his plate he’s looking to cast a replacement. Once he finds the right cat for the job, he’s really looking forward to taking a load off this weekend…
Yes, I like my cat a lot.
Thanks to Miss McKay for the New Yorker image, mugshot from here, Indian from here, Hemingway from here, Russell lounging is just Russell lounging, and Cat audition is from here.
Ghost Party
For Miss McKay’s birthday she threw a Ghost Party in the sea islands. All in attendance were asked to choose and channel one of the many spirits of Cumberland, the most mystical and undoubtedly magical tide and mist limned island of the lot. This was certainly cause for a most unearthly celebration. We went to the boneyard and gathered armadillo skulls, deer jawbones, and miscellaneous backbones from the woods, and, like all good ghosts, everyone had a bone necklace and placecard.
We went into the saw palmettos, foraged mossy branches and long fronds and festooned the room with bones, vines, and spanish moss.
We dressed as timacuan squaws and revolutionary war generals, the ghosts of great great uncles and bastard octoroon daughters, as ghost dans, zoave blockade runners, french pirates, notorious brides, and wayward travelers. The birthday girl herself went as fierce and beautiful Aunt Lucy who answered to no one and rode her horse with a crow on her shoulder, and Miss Mia made our portraits. 
We ate shrimp and grits, drank champagne and rum, and played music and danced mystically into the night. It was perfection.
So much love and supernatural joy to Miss McKay on this occasion of her birthday.
And infinite thanks and sharkteethbrujaja to the divinely talented Miss Mia Baxter, timacuan squaw and photographer extroidanairess, for the majority of these stunning images.
Feather By Feather 