July 26, 2010
Triceratops by me. The rest by party-goers of the Blondes and Dinosaurs and Unicorns party.  
Posted by Hank.
February 21, 2010
Impromptu Frittata
4 eggs broken in medium sized pan, no heat. Drop in diced carrots, black olives, green onion and green pepper. And a splash or two of Tabasco and/or Worshishire sauce. Season with garlic, salt, pepper.
Heat on medium stove top until bottom cooks through. Then flip and cook for one additional minute.
Empty one can of diced tomatoes into saucepan and add in "Italian seasoning", heat to taste.
Tear several leaves from a head of Romaine or Celtuce Letttuce.
Place cooked egg on top of lettuce leaves, top with tomatoes and garnish with a Salsa Verde.
Posted by Hank.
December 29, 2009
Starring...  and Hank. Sarah and I met up again, for what has become, a once a year face to face (half-day). I never know what's going to happen other than magnetic Haikus, the tradition that holds us together, and lends a name to this entry. At the coffee shop they had a pony wall that separated the dining room from the check out line, and on one side there was a chalk board. Pictured above is about as far as we got, with the help of a couple adorable six and three year old British lads (try and guess which were drawn by us and by them). Who, after a long discussion of Rugby and American Football, prized us with this: There were many great haikus but few great photographs of haikus. Sarah Simpson, currently pursuing her masters in education.
 Hank Knaack, Art major?
I only manufactured paper words twice, and that's because they were originally in the pack (then lost) anyways. Before for we said goodbye we attempted a shot together, but with no available employees and outlasting all patrons, I just set the camera on a timer and we decided to make a short story loosely based on the events of the day. Only, it would read like "perfect strangers connect in a modern day bohemian rest stop."
    And we shook hands and said goodbye (for presumably) another year.
Posted by Hank.
December 16, 2009
Cookies are one of those traditions that seems to get lost as the children of the family grow up. Right along with getting an actual living tree. But there are always trade-offs when transitioning into your adulthood. While staring at an artificial, pre-lit tree fresh out of a box I sip my egg nog and brandy and it starts to look as beautiful as the one I fantasized about in all my nostalgia.
As I start to spend more time away from the family, now graduated and employed and in my own place- I see myself trying to create feelings of holiday. You might have noticed, hunting for pumpkins to carve for Halloween, and now cruising the streets of Winterhaven, the Residential Festival of Lights and Christmas District of Tucson, and baking cookies with some of my more culinarily (in possession of culinary skills) inclined friends.
But in making traditions in my life now on my own, I have to do it my own way. And sometimes that means shaking things up. So when Alana and I were charged with bringing something "Christmassy" to the first winter party of the season, that obviously meant erotic gingerbread cookies. A classic sentiment with a new twist.
.JPG)
Posted by Hank.
November 10, 2009
Posted by Hank.
September 10, 2009
In life I like to take my camera. It's a hassle to care for your equipment, and most of my friends are shy unless there's a little to drink, but any new landscape or adventure it goes. Of course the times when I've had the most fun, the camera is never around nor is there a pen and paper to write it all down. One Monday in January following lunch, a friend and I spontaneously decided to drive up to Mt. Lemon. Stopped off to get a disposable camera, and when we got to the base of the mountain it was closed for road maintenance. I hadn't taken a single photo so I kept it in my car and it took me seven months to fill up enough photos and develop the film. I guess what I'm insinuating is I've been having a lot of fun.
But when you want to look back, that's when you need something tangible. Journals and sketches and 4x6s. I thought nostalgia was something that you outgrow, but maybe I have it reversed. After I moved to Tucson and started college, I left behind all of my things from High School. I gained new memories. Collected more nostalgia. My last year of college I purged again. And when I moved to Seattle, and I missed Tucson I didn’t have anything. So now when I come across old snap shots or comic illustrations I haven’t thrown them away. Am I not ready to say goodbye this time? Or can I finally live the now and also appreciate my past?
What ever it is, I take my camera. And maybe I don’t have to decide.
Posted by Hank.
| |
