friday.

i have been daydreaming about the three-day stretch ahead of me all week for one simple reason - i have nothing to do. just a couple of runs, some freelancing, cooking, and sleeping in. oh yes, and looking for an apartment to move into this spring. ooh, i like the idea of living alone - coming home to the house however i left it, playing my favorite neko case song on repeat without annoying anyone, piling my kitchen table high with fresh lemons and flowers.


a new obsession of mine: google book search. you can browse books in pdf form on your computer screen. it certainly doesn't beat holing up in a bookstore with a stack of books and magazines and a chai tea, but it will do for now considering i'm glued to my desk.

books i've been reading via my mac:
happy yoga, stern men, tapas

moments

what the living do, by marie howe

"i've been thinking: this is what the living do. and yesterday, hurrying along those wobbly bricks in the cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my wrist and sleeve, i thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: this is it. parking. slamming the car door shut in the cold. what you called that yearning. what you finally gave up. we want the spring to come and the winter to pass. we want whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss - we want more and more and then more of it.

but there are moments, walking, when i catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass, say the window of the corner video store, and i'm gripped by a cherishing so deep for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that i'm speechless.

i am living. i remember you."

nuevo.

i've spent so much time reading the blogs of other beautiful, inspiring women that i've decided to start my own. this is a new stage of my life, where so many things i've held so dearly (or clung to?) have vanished, and i'm forced to start from the ground up. build, build, build.

what will be next?

things that are making me happy:
amel larrieux's album, morning
the color red
the memory keeper's daughter, by kim edwards
the idea that i'm going to take up cooking this year (so far, just an idea)
hatha yoga on wednesday nights

woke to bright blue skies and dean and deluca espresso two hours before work. brian and i made a big breakfast - tomato, mushroom and gouda quiche with a side of toast - and then he walked me to work so that he could spend the day exploring the city himself. brian, my boyfriend of four months, got here five days ago and after a few minor collisions, we have settled back into the natural rhythm of our relationship. unfortunately in three more days, he'll be back in iowa city finishing the house renovation and figuring out what the next step will be. it's so strange, and in some ways so wonderful, to be grounded and have a home. yes, i'd love to go roadtripping through the south for three weeks, but i can't, i have a job. yes, moving to portland sounds great, but i can't right now. i need to stay and write here. if i only i could drag all of the people i love to this city and buy a big rowhouse for us to live in. (are any rowhouses big enough??) that would be wonderful. but instead i have to just try to love the feeling of having both roots and being aware of my core all at once.

my life right now is my herb garden, yoga classes, bike rides down connecticut avenue, writing, national geographic, the eastern market, letter writing, long-distance love.

and i think that life is pretty damn wonderful.

reasons that life is good today:

almond coffee for breakfast - nic is here! - cute shoes - christina is moving to d.c. - to boston on friday - one more day at jane - lunch with brooke - sun - dinner in williamsburg - busy work - email from my brother - strawberry waffles in the not-so-distant future - lake panorama - daydreaming - pink toenails

I can’t believe I’m quoting a Starbucks cup but it’s Jill Scott and she’s definitely quotable.

“Embrace this right now life while it’s dripping, while the flavors are excellently woesome. Take your bites with bravery and boldness since the learning and the growing are here in these times, these exact right nows. Capture these times. Hold and kiss them because it will soon be very different.” Jill scott

meghan is back in omaha & jeri is in long island so cristi & i went out for dinner & cupcakes last night. i had a glass of pinot noir, a salad with avocado & black beans & then we capped off the evening with a cupcake from billy's. for some reason i was in bed by 11 p.m. i want to enjoy my last sunday in new york. i love getting up before the hordes of people start milling down 34th street & enjoy less honking, less sweating, less crowds.

i'm ready to head "home" for a few weeks but i haven't been in glenwood since march, steven's funeral. months later, i try to pretend it didn't happen but seeing the change in john reminds me all too well that it did.

came home tonight to a bright orange sunset. i just laid on my bed, my chin buried in a pillow, watching. i will miss this view, this room, this city. only one more week in new york city then back to my little home in iowa (to strawberry waffles & brick streets & my family) & then i'm off to washington d.c. to intern for national geographic.

nic is coming to pick me up in just a few days. i don't how exactly this has come about but i am so glad that it has. he got back from honduras about a month ago & just knowing that he's in iowa while i'm here is killing me. we have decided to drive to boston then to chicago then to iowa city & then home to glenwood for my dad's 61st birthday.

my friends & i had dinner in the oh-so-trendy meatpacking district.. red wine & calamari & eggplant at pastis. we have had such an unbelievable summer together that it is really hard to say goodbye.. we are all going off to do interesting things & will meet more people & have more pastis-like dinners but it always baffles me that not one moment will ever be repeated. i have such a clearer view of what i want now, and also of what i do not want.

i'm off to drink wine & watch the sunset disappear.

embrace the uncertainty.

stay reminded of how fragile life can be. learn to appreciate what you have, rather than what you think you need. realize that we are all in this together. realize that unparalled beauty comes out of unparalled devastation.

realize there is no one to blame.

"the only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty; not knowing what comes next."

ursula k leguin