Sunday Evening

After a long, exhausting week, I tend to expect the most from the weekend, often to my own dissapointment.  Sunday can feel so heavy, weighted as it is by its own finality, never free like Saturday, but instead existing like the letter "q," unable to free itself from the week ahead, its "u" the necessity of Monday.  Today though, in the interest of dispelling such Sunday blues, we took a lot of walks, spent our little bits of change on useful things like vintage globes and white tulips with faint pink edges.  We made more cookies and chicken potpie, drank coffee and watched a film.  When I begin to buckle under the pressure of the week and the uncertainty of the future I'll remind myself of these small things and maybe too my mother's voice on the other end of the line, fine point pens that scratch the paper as I write, my husband's face when he gets home from work, the generous gift of a new album playing constantly in my ears, and the last words of a story I've been trying to finish reading all week:  listen harder.  

Night Baking

Last night after Andrew left for work I looked out the window to see the most beautiful sky. When I stepped out the front door I couldn't help but be drawn to the glowing red sign from the market down the street, so I decided to pack up the camera, grab a bag for my purchases, and take a short walk in search of a few remaining ingredients for chocolate chip cookies. I decided to take the sky as a sign - make something beautiful. I know, I know, they're just cookies, right? But friends, until you've had one of Ashley's fantastic chocolate brown sugar confections, you just won't understand what I mean when I say: this cookie will change your life. Ok, that might be dramatic, it sounded a little more sane in my head, but the sentiment is still the same - the process of creaming butter and sugar, whisking flour and salt, folding in chunks of dark chocolate, it's a healing one. Long week? Bad day? Can't make sense of the world? What better than recipe?

Just before Andrew arrived home from a long, unexpected shift, I pulled a tray of these lovelies from the oven, watched as their slightly puffed tops relaxed into themselves, creating the most beautiful tops, rippled with dark chocolate ribbons and a terrain of buttery dough made both crisp and chewy by its peaks and valleys. I'm not ashamed to say we enjoyed one for breakfast as well, the light poring in the windows, reassuring us that spring is making its way through winter's slumber.

We've got crazy to-do lists for today, even bigger ones for the week ahead, but our taxes are done, there's cookie dough left in the fridge, and I think there's a sunny midday walk in our future. We're plugging along, but trust me - the cookies help.

This is Yellow

Just remember you are standing

On a planet that’s evolving.

How beautiful, she thought, what distance does

-Mary Jo Bang, from "How Beautiful"

So Tiny and So Good

Thank you, Kari.  It's perfect.

We Ate Cake

I need to send out some giant birthday thank yous for all of the kind wishes.  There was bowling, friends, a little too much to drink, and lots and lots of cake.  In fact, there is still lots and lots of cake.  Must get to that....

Also....

you can find me posting here:  http://thedailyhaiku575.blogspot.com/.

There are some really fun haiku's going up, Christy had a really great idea.  You'll know me by "yellow."

My Kind of Romance

Returning home from a very, very long day of study to find a clean kitchen, a newly installed thrifted yellow lamp so that I can actually see at my desk, and a big, cold glass of diet cherry coke, pre-stirred to remove that pesky carbonation.  I'm not fan of roses, and I'm not easily won over by jewelry, but do the dishes and pour me a drink?  I'm in.

*Also, and I know, this is rubbing in my joyous good luck, but I'm writing this from the couch.  Newland, the laptop, is very excited to be bringing you this message.

Oh, People

So, to really tell this story, I should start with my mom.  And maybe, if I didn't value her privacy so much, I would start with the tales of some of her "choice" boyfriends in the past.  I would tell you, if I weren't so respectful, about Cracker Barrel men and clueless idiots, married men dumb enough to think you could keep anything from my mother (you can't, Ive tried), old ones, young ones, oh, people, I could go on, but I won't, except for to say that it's a little like Goldilocks, only she has red hair and most likely hates porridge.  What I'm getting at is, she's in a "just right" situation - you know the type - when something's not just fantastic because you stumbled upon it, but because you lived life a little, tried a few things, and low and behold, found a winner; she found something just right.  Is it possible to underestimate how absolutely incredible "just right" is?  Maybe.  But my mom, she's too smart for that, and finally, she's holding tight to one, the best one, there- I said it.  

So, with that little bit under your belt, you're ready for this:  Things have been a little scattered since the move.  Times are tough for everyone all over the country and well, life just isn't as smooth as it might be nice for it to be.  And, if you'll allow me to get petty for a moment, my laptop died.  My love, my child, that little white travelling companion, she passed away. It was not pretty around here.  I can't tell you how much work I did out and about on that thing - coffee shops, libraries, parks.  

Here's where we tie things together a bit:  Mr. Just Right, Mr. I Cook, Clean, and Cuddle, Mr. Fantastic, well, he one-upped us.  He sent me, with my mother's help, this amazing laptop for my birthday.  My stomach is still in knots thinking about it, that someone not obligated to love and care for me and my well-being would put so much effort into something so thoughtful and perfect.  Not only does he listen to my babble, read and comment on this babble, and make my mom laugh in ways I haven't heard her laugh in years, but he sent me a laptop.  A laptop.  

Oh, people, it's the gift, and so much more than the gift.  Or, it's the laptop, and so much more than the laptop.  it's the funny stories and the hope of whale watching, the love of dogs and the patience with life's ups and downs, it's watching someone love my mother.  That, in itself, is the best gift.  This laptop is just frosting.  

My body is surging with possibility and hopeful energy.  I'm humbled by what family means and how grateful I am to have one.  27 is going to be a good year.