Burger Beautiful

Two recent instances of burger-ness are blog-worthy.

Sacramento is home to illegal food trucks congregating in a public park, coffee shops with personal french presses and the best patty melt sliders I've ever  - had -  or had the pleasure of ingesting. Cafeteria 15L. It's the bomb. "swiss, caramelized onion, special sauce and rye bread." I wish I'd snapped a food foto, but I was too busy trying not to cry. Yes, they were that good (and the space was just as cool).

Back in H-town, Natachee's did not disappoint. When I have trouble choosing between burgers alone, I know it's a good set-up. Opting out of the jalapeno option for once, I went for the Outside-In: "Hand-spanked burger full of cheddar and jack cheese, grilled to perfection, then topped with sauteed spinach, pickles and Ranch dressing." I couldn't put it down; it was that good, but also that juicy. Why waste napkins when you could inhale it instead?

If you grew up in the Shreveport // Bossier Metroplex, did you ever go to a place on Barksdale Blvd. called Teddy Bears? Best burgers ever! Juicy with a special sauce. And then it shut down. Along with my childhood dreams (i.e. all rewards for good grades were eaten up here, good memories with Mom). People are still talking about it on online forums... you know, the people who still read those.

Where Teddy Bears possibly used to be, according to Google Maps?
My 3rd-grade memory is fuzzy.

Midtown's Natachee's was the reincarnation. I can't wait to bring all my out-of-towners here! Raise a glass - or a patty - to making new memories at places like this.

The Search for Church

The search for a multi-ethnic, multi-generational church continues. I hesitate to say anything negative about the Church, capital "C," for fear of adding to the din of complaints from outsiders. But as a Christian in a new area, I'm a little confused and frustrated. And convicted. And not just by the sermon I heard today. I realize the Church is me. [sic]

Thus far, I've visited two churches, little "c," in Houston proper and probably won't make a second date with either one. During my interview back in June, my then-future co-worker made a point to tout Houston as the 4th most diverse American city. True, I've passed two masjids this week and ate dinner at an Iranian deli yesterday. I've already pre-set Hispanic radio in my car and plan to hit up Chinatown for bubble tea this afternoon. The proximity of these cultural pockets excites me, but that's just what they are, pockets. Compartmentalized cordoned-off blocks that jut up next to each other, but never mix. I'm learning there's a difference in observing diversity and actually participating in it. I'm worried I spend too much time observing.

Back to the sanctuary. Look around. Everyone looks like me. Mid-to-late-20s, thick, black prescription (or not) frames, plaid shirts or scarves topping off skinny, dark-wash Levi's and TOMS (or Van's, take your pick). The messages from the pulpit have been good, I can't deny! And I'm so grateful for truth taught. But I've been so distracted by the shininess around me that it's hard to digest anything of substance. I'm drowning in coolness. Should church be cool?

I think the cause of this uniformity is well-intentioned. We crave authentic community, and for some reason, 20-somethings seem to seek the "real experience" more than any other age bracket. We grew up in such a time of decadence (hello, 80s' Dallas & Dynasty) that our subculture is reactionary. Give me a salvaged, solid-wood countertop and craft beer out of a mason jar over a discussion about worldview. Hashtag, #Boom. #Real? #Maybe.

Here's the catch: community can't be authentic if it's insular. Why? Because people will be so preoccupied making sure they qualify that no real relationship will be exchanged. It's just a glorified youth group.

I want to go to church with parents, grandparents, widows, married couples with kids in kindergarten or kids in college, because they have wisdom I don't. I want to celebrate different forms of worship through varied traditional music because, God knows, Chris Tomlin isn't going to be the only headliner in heaven. I want to be introduced to facets of Christian theology that can only be highlighted in the context of multiculturalism. I want the homeless people we serve to sit with me in the same pew.

Because you know what's authentic? Bringing heaven to earth. And I hear heaven is full of a bunch of people who don't look like me.

But then I look at myself. Do I wear hipster glasses? Yes. When I actually attended a diverse church, did I engage other cultures past a warm, passing smile? No. How much do I seek out other ethnicities (or even socio-economic groups!) Monday through Saturday, making its congregational continuation on Sunday simply natural? Not much.

See, I am the Church. I am the problem. God, please save me.

Am I a Pink Person?

Before the power went out last night, I had a chance to catch up on some blogs, one of which (The Indigo Bunting) is manned by an artist who does design work for such titles as Esquire and Martha Stewart Living. Drool! Dream job! (Plus she designs seriously cute invites/favors for all her niece's and nephew's birthday parties. Adopt me, please?)

So I pulled this illustration she included for my inspiration file. Love the colors and the simplicity; I wish I could hang it in my bathroom because I think it'd make getting ready for work a happier occasion. It's from an NYT illustration feature that you should definitely check out. Hours & hours of fun, or at least 30 minutes.

Then when I trotted over to The Sartorialist, I found a skirt with similar vibrancy. Look familiar? So fun, right??

And then over at Crewcuts (why is some of the cutest J.Crew stuff only kids-sized?), I found these:

I love this color combo almost as much as slate/yellow. I'm a bit late in the season to be adopting this color obsession, although those boots are definitely for fall, so I'm not sure what to do. My other obsession has also developed from the Sartorialist. I've never thought I could be a long skirt person, but here are some more ideas I'd love to try... once the flood waters subside. :)

I'd Share My Wellies With You...

As Hurricane Irene heads our way, rain boots have been on my mind (especially these from J.Crew that I don't really need, but REALLY want... in yellow, of course! Or these, because ballet flats don't take rain for an answer.)

You'd think that since I'm from Louisiana, I'd be well-versed in "batting down the hatches," but as no one up here seems to understand, Shreveport is practically on a different planet from NOLA.

All this to say, I have another poster design up my sleeve, inspired by those lemon-flavored zapatos up there. The background will be a dusty cerulean with white, hand-written, scripty lettering, "I'd share my wellies with you," barely tucked behind a flat illustration of white-outlined yellow rain boots in the lower right-hand corner. I can visualize it exactly in my head; whether or not it will ever appear in Illustrator is another thing entirely. Maybe this weekend's mandatory camp out (or should it be camp in?) will provide the opportunity to try my hand at it.

I Want to be a Kid Again!

So my father and I have somewhat collectively been working on independent children's book ideas, his about Peanut the Dachshund (i.e. working title: Peanut Saves the Day), mine - of course - about Edison the Calico; no preliminary title as of yet, although after re-watching Narnia Pt. 1 this week, something along the lines of "Edison the Valiant" has a nice ring to it. In case YOU forgot, Edison is a girl, though SHE is quite aware of this fact. Since her story has nothing to do with lords or ladies, that name may never see print, but I might take to addressing her as such around the house. #catladytendencies

We both - Dad and I - had come to a bit of a slump. His work projects (video game story background writing/"world" development) had taken precedence over personal projects. My problem, on the other hand, has just been lack of discipline.

But today, after sneaking a peek at the blog of artist Matte Stephens between tasks - LOVE his stuff! - I was inspired. His book, The Foolish Fox, comes out in September. (I'd post a pre-order link to it here, but can't seem to find it online yet.) Take a look at a few of his illustrations here, followed by pics of his awesome workspace, inside and out. Who wouldn't want to be creative sitting there? or outside, looking in!? Can't wait for his book, and in the meantime, can't wait to log some more hours on my own. For now, going to finish baking some Chinese egg tartlets. Yum!

Phantom Family Memoirs

Family is very important to me; to be more exacting, the concept of family is very important to me.

Somedays it hits me more than others how much I will miss certain aspects of lives long lived. I wish they could be recorded, documented; for posterity, yes, but more so just for MY fading memory - I lie - for my clouded, biased memory. It seems I could make use of a third-party's editorial eye to sort through, categorize and sift someone's entire person into one of those upside-down-pyramid diagrams they always taught us to use for "hard news" stories in journalism classes - the term for which I can't remember now.

"Please put the most admirable attributes in the dek," I'd say. "Leave the messy and vague for the last graf, the one that always gets cut for space anyway..." leaving the hierarchical details of events weighted squarely in his favor.

I wish someone had kept his correspondence as did Valerie for her own T.S. Elliot. I wish there were a "street view" of Chicago intersections in 1931 so I could see not only the photos painstakingly snapped of everyone's favorite little professional performer - the child prodigy, but glean instead some simple, unadulterated context.

But this is sounding less and less like a memoir and more like a subpoena for circumstantial evidence.

All previous hurt aside, it pains me that if a book IS ever written, it would be by the hands another too self-promoting for the product to be of any value to me. I don't want to hear the empty praise and accolades. I just want images, bits and bytes strung together with timetables established before my birth and held up entirely by an underpinning of grace.

Maybe I'll just attempt to play historian for the other branch of my family tree while there's still time.

Bikes for books.

I'm working on a newsletter design for a ministry at Princeton Alliance Church, and while sifting through dingbats for little section header graphics, I stumbled across this little gem:

which I then turned into this:

I know I'd seen the icon before; I think I've even used it in previous projects. But somehow it sparked something different this time, and I had to follow a quick tangent to type this out, maybe a bookmark, maybe a poster:

It's super simple, and I'm not completely happy with the typography yet (Illustrator was giving me "pathfinder" issues when I tried to do anything less vanilla. Ugh!). But kind of fun. I might have already sent it to a certain boy who likes books... and hopefully, bikes.