Back in March, with my birthday fast approaching, all I could think was: "twenties almost over? How??"

Home Made Cold Brew Aspirations

For several years now, I've been paying hefty prices for cold brewed coffee wherever I've stumbled upon it. But yesterday I finally made a long awaited dream a reality: I set up my very first self-constucted cold brew contraption. Want to know how?

Wait, first I need to digress a bit.  My first introduction to cold brewed iced coffee was the lovely 12th Ave Stumptown on Capitol Hill, a corridor-like space with flexible use coffee tables that serve as footrests and additional seating. It was the start of summer of 2010. [Read: BEFORE Stumptown sold out]. Also, we were amidst the World Cup. There were crowds spilling onto the sidewalk, mid-day, of just about every pub cafe & diner in town that had in its possession even a small flat screen. And it was unusually hot. According to my then boyfriend and Pacific Northwest poster child Andrew Oberhardt,  who happens to be a rockclimber, kayaker, and 8 year long Seattlite, this was very rare and way too hot for the norm.  Not to mention too hot for a girl spoiled by the constant cool breezes of sunny & dry Southern California. 

Good weather San Diego does has, and even some artisan coffee. But gourmet artisan coffee brewed right is a seldom treat. So I eagerly elbowed my way into Stumptown, past the human street spillage from the French cafe one door over and ordered an iced coffee. Shocked when I was told that my total is $3.50, I began to wonder what other consumables I'd find grossly inflated in the city of my Pacific Northwest dreams. 

Then, as I wiped sweat from my forehead, I took my first sip. And I was changed. Forever. No seriously, that's not even overly dramatizing things. I realize how this must come across, and maybe if I were a better writer I could better paint the picture, but it's true. Once that ice-like aftertaste (I was recently pleased to learn from a coffee geek blog that the cool after-gulp feeling from cold brewed coffee actually comes from a chemical) hit my throat and mouth, I was addicted. It was an inspirational caffeine moment. The clean, crisp texture. The acidless taste. I came back several times to Stumptown for more cold brewed crack, but apparently that day was a trial run. They didn't make the stuff regularly.  At that time they had begun, apparently, to get the ball rolling on succumbing to the corporate takeover. 

And then the heat wave was over. Just like that. Seattle returned to its familiar temperatures, still sunnier than most summers, Andrew and the locals assured me, but cooler and windier than that June commencement. And I returned to regular hot coffee, intermittendly injecting a Victrola iced latte as the occassional treat. 

That summer, Andrew's parents gifted him a fancy espresso machine for his birthday, inspiring him to concurrently invest in a fancy burr grinder. Although we still constantly went out to coffee shops for the atmosphere due to the fact that we're both hopeless addicts, my caffeine purchases dwindled. Not to mention I was nearly broke. And even though he took me out to the majority of our weekday and weekend dusk infused gourmet dinners, I had dedicated the summer to thesis research and relaxation, not money making. And regardless of his generosity and chivalry, it was tough keeping up with a long time Microsofter. After two intense years of graduate architecture school this seemed like a great idea. But it was a financial challenge to say the least. 

A year passed before I happened upon a place with cold brew back in San Diego. Jason and I were exploring the unsettled frontier near our thesis studio in Barrio Logan. Nestled like it was no big deal midst factories and metal scrap yards we found Cafe Virtuoso, a cool warehouse roastery and coffee shop. I'd say the quality of their cold brewed coffee here was even better than that fateful first sip at Stumptown. Virtuoso also charged about $3.50, but this time I knew why. The first sip evoked flash backs, rippling through my nervous system, making me vow to do this to myself every day. But in order to have enough funds to buy modeling materials and food, I'd have to learn how to employ this method of preparation on the homefront. But times got busy. Architecture times. And then I got Hadley. And until recently, I haven't revisited the idea of home brewing.

Until yesterday, to be exact. Ok, now with that flashback.. err...rant complete, it's time to get back to the cold brew:

I followed instructions made by LeDesordre, a barrista on Instructables.com: 

_One cut plastic water bottle,  
_Mexican dark roast beans my mom sent from her trip to Los Cabos 
_24 hours 
_and a mason jar 

and I am finally sipping on iced coffee, feeling that cold aftertaste release on my tongue and palatte. It turned out surprisingly strong. And smooth. I'm almost certain the double filtration system helped. Thanks, Ledesordre, whoever and wherever you are. Now if I could just teach Hadley to grind up coffee beans & set up the contraption nightly...

Hadley Faktor

Hadley is half Miniature Pinscher and half Chihuahua mix. She's incredible.

Before adopting Had I didn't have a clue about min pinschers. Now, they're one of my favorite dog breeds, and I get giddy each time I run into one on the streets or at the dog parks and beachs.

At first I was convinced that I really lucked out with Hadley's personality; she's a real character. Friendly, earnest, personable and very playful. I still think this, but after lots of pup rearing research, I've come to understand that these are fairly guaranteed personality traits of the Min. Pinscher. They're intelligent, alert and incredibly fun dogs.

These are a few of my favorite Hadley photos. [I'm sure] I'll be posting more soon, as I am completely smitten.

Hadley, scaled to a grocery bag. 

Hadley  conducts some research on how to help me train her.

Jason Smith loves Hadley; Hadley looking like a fragile baby piglet.

so does David Feldman

Hadley loves to bake

and to sleep on anything sold by Anthropologie.
[especially dresses]. [[expensive, delicate ones]]

a dog tag I designed for Had on a lasercutter & out of basswood.  

Yeah, Hadley's successfully trained me to become quite preoccupied & obsessed with her.

x-pollinate studio's cardboard lamps

This past October, the architectural collaborative I am a part of, X-Pollinate Studio, had its first soft photoshoot. We wanted to test out our latest design, a lamp shade made of laser cut cardboard. We shot the lamps above my bed, in the bedroom space of my live/work loft. So with Neutral Milk Hotel playing off my laptop in the background and my pup Hadley attempting to destroy as many cardboard lamp shades as she could get her eager paws on, we hung a few lamps and took some photos of the corrugate light play on the walls. Photos of lamp shades to follow.

I like to think that on good days, my apartment resembles an Anthropologie store. I could just be reassuring myself that it doesn't need to be properly simplified and organized. Because at times it does look much like a warehouse with much stuff thrown about all willy-nilly. More and more days I wake up thinking, 'I've had it,' and make vigorous plans to live a more minimalist lifestyle, which includes throwing away half of the eclectic things I own, stopping my sentimental habit of keeping random items that move me or allow me to reminisce, and taking everything off of horizontal surfaces. Then I remember that this is how I feel most comfortable, with things somewhat cluttered yet creatively put away around me, like a perpetual studio space. My opinions on the topic of how my living environment ought to be organized change day to day. There's something charming about a book of matches from a NYC pub, an architectural model, random books, a pair of boots and printed out recipes all occupying the same 1 ft surface. Not sure either way... you be the judge.

Session I

Hello! I'm Pauli. Welcome to Pauli's Miscellany!

I've had a running stream of vignettes and conversations in my mind since I was about 5; ranging from observations turned cynical and snarky to sincerely  sensitive and introspective. One reason is that so many aspects of my life and my family have played out like a Woody Allen/Wes Anderson tragi-comedy. Don't worry, somewhat more functional, just a whole lot of nuance. And what better way to actualize these unraveling events than to adopt a self-depricatingly humorous approach? 

That's me!! I'm pulling my bangs back so you can get a real
good idea of what I actually look like. And no! I no longer
own that iphone. This photo is from 2 years ago.

Another reason is my steadfast obsession with thorough documention of well, everything; from the monumental and epic to the very mundane. I suppose that's what makes me a typical architect-in-training. Or maybe it's because I just feel too much, and analyze even more. Or maybe because I've documented and created art throughout my life until it's lead to a design process I use for my projects. Or maybe still it's the dormant schizophrenia that's starting to surface thus I hear a narrator in my head more often. [haha? no? no, you're right] Whatever the reason, documentation and reflection have always been a part of my process. 

As a kid I wrote in proper journals, nowadays I jot down thoughts on tiny pieces of random paper, sporadically in school notebooks or day planners, on album covers, in the occassional moleskine,you get the picture, frantically lest the brilliant thoughts pass. The most pervasive, however,  has been this ongoing narrative, a sort of film reel, if you will, that never stops in my head. 

In an effort to translate these life reflections and musings to something less ephemeral than say.. a crumpled piece of trace paper - as well as combat my tendency to procrastinate - I am using an online journal as platform for my many miscellaneous memories of amusing events and those internal narratives. To catalogue the things I find inspirational or critical, and the everyday residual events that shape one's life and point of view.


What else? This blog will contain observations of events that occur in my life, which unfold around me, and the things I find curious, amusing, obsurd or compelling. Another reason for this blog is to connect with those that share my enthusiasm for architecture, graphic design, film, dogs, music, gastronomy, travel, and amusing situations. 

So I guess for once telling procrastination I'll get to it tomorrow, I made tonight my official first post. Drumroll.... Thank you.

I'm here at Krakatoa, a coffee shop, one of several local favorites,with a cozy outdoor patio and a ridiculous vegan tiramisu cake. [I'm not a vegan, I'm actually a Russian Jew with grandmothers who cooked alot of meat and fish while I was growing up, which means there's no possible way I'd ever become a Vegan] [[ And don't get me started on how backwards the logic is on veganism promoting environmental conservation]] [[[Unless you want to, then by all means let's have a conversation...]]] So back to Krakatoa. Environment & ambiance is fairly critical to self expression, at least to my ebbs & flows of the strength it takes to share private thoughts with complete strangers.  So ok, tonight, at Krakatoa, and at dusk, because that's my favorite time of day, I commence this blog. [Well, that's not why.  However, it's now dusk, and it does happen to be my favorite time of any day]. I even took this photo so you can see how poetic the evening was.