Road trip!

This is probably going to be happening about a year from now- I'm determined.

Rome to Rome, hitting up Italy (Rome obviously, Florence, Bologna, Padua, Venice, Trieste, maybe Naples on the way back), Slovenia, Hungary (Budapest, Bekescaba, Szeged, Pecs), Croatia (Zagreb, Plitvice National Park, Split, Dubrovnik, allofthebeaches), Montenegro, and Albania along the way. Looking at this, I should probably tweak it to include Serbia and B&H as well.

If you think road trips are fun, just wait until you get pulled over by cops with whom you have no languages in common in a foreign country. THE BEST.

Come with me on an ambitiously huge European road-trip adventure? YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO.

On another note, have you ever been to any of these places? Have suggestions for other stops to include?


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Adam Cast Forth

¿Hubo un Jardín o fue el Jardín un sueño?

Lento en la vaga luz, me he preguntado,

casi como un consuelo, si el pasado

de que este Adán, hoy mísero, era dueño,

no fue sino una mágica impostura

de aquel Dios que soñé. Ya es impreciso

en la memoria el claro paraíso,

pero yo sé que existe y que perdura,

aunque no para mí. La terca tierra

es mi castigo y la incestuosa guerra

de Caínes y Abeles y su cría.

Y, sin embargo, es mucho haber amado,

haber sido feliz, haber tocado

el viviente Jardín, si

quiera un día.

Jorge Luis Borges

(translation here)

Things to avoid at all costs

I talked a touch about this on the Facebook already, but I thought I'd put together a quick reference list of things-never-to-mention on a first date, just to help you all out. Not that you need it, really. You're a spectacularly well-adjusted group of people.

• Sasquatch/Bigfoot/Yeti/sincere belief in any cryptozoology/even the fact that you know the term cryptozoology: This is only acceptable if you have a truly excellent story to tell about a great prank you played on a friend that somehow involved any of these elements. I'm all about Bigfoot pranks and hilarious hijinx. I'm not at all about dedicating any substantial portion of time to studying or discussing cryptids.

• Aliens: They may exist, they may not, I'm just not in the mood to get into this kind of speculative science at a first meeting. If you tell me that you think you saw a UFO when you were 9, I'll probably zone out and spend the next 20 minutes thinking about the delicious Thai coconut soup I had for dinner yesterday. There's a time and a place. This is not it. In the middle of an X-Files marathon? Great time. Driving through the Nevada desert? Perfect place. Awkward dinner with someone you barely know? Nope. Shut that down.

• Flipping houses: Don't even talk to me about this. It's not a job. It's a hobby AT BEST. Unless you are passionate about historical restoration, all this tells me about you is that you're probably in get-rich-quick mode, rather than find-something-you-really-love-and-do-it-consistently mode. One is better and healthier than the other. I'll leave it to you to discern which that is.

• Shopping screenplays around to directors: Again, not a job. Don't even bring this up. You're living in Sugarhouse and I find it highly unlikely that this is more than just a pie-in-the-sky idea something along the lines of that discussed in point 3.

• Your love for Big Bang Theory: I can't even deal with this. It's a poorly written, predictable mockery of the geek culture it claims to celebrate. If I don't know you very well, this is pretty much a dealbreaker. At least save it until I know you have other redeeming qualities.

As a coda to this brief list, I should add that any one of these things would be a red flag on its own, but all of them together are a flashing neon DANGER sign. In the future, I will do my part to avoid any situations that might combine all five.

Quotes

"The things we truly love are locked in our hearts as long as life remains"

Josephine Baker

This, right now, and for days to come

Quotes

"I am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find my banks full of roses under my cypresses."

Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra

(Live Oak engraving by the incomparable Barry Moser)

Ramblings

So I've been thinking a lot lately about what I want to do with this little blog moving forward. In case you haven't noticed (and if you haven't, are you blind?!), I haven't had much to say here for about the last year. That's happened for a lot of reasons, but most recently, I attribute it directly to my Twitter obsession.

With my Google-addled attention span, I'm not sure I have anything of length worth sharing here anymore, but I'm not willing to abandon this quite yet. Honestly, it's the closest thing to a journal that I've got going, so sorry future children, you're mostly out of luck, but at least you'll know of my unnatural love for European baritones, which I'm sure will be exceedingly helpful when you're trying to make important life decisions, and all that jazz.


Lately, I've been:

• Taking selfies in distorted mirror pillars

•  Spending too much time (as usual) in teh naturez. This is one of my favorite hikes- the Living Room- full of "furniture" made of sandstone slabs. This was taken on a particularly cold and rainy day. I feel pretty lucky to live in a city where I'm only minutes away from sights like this. 

• Chasing quails around the backyard. On this particular day, they took refuge in the apple tree. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, almost nothing delights me more than ridiculous quails.  

Other stuff has been happening, but you don't really want to hear about that- you just want the good/boring stuff like birds and rocks. YOU'RE WELCOME.

Quotes

“I cannot break myself any longer for you... If you can love me for what I am, we shall be happier. If you cannot, I will still seek to deserve that you should. I must be myself. I will not hide my tastes or aversions. I will so trust that what is deep is holy, that I will do strongly before the sun and moon whatever inly rejoices me and the heart appoints. If you are noble, I will love you; if you are not, I will not hurt you and myself by hypocritical attentions. If you are true, but not in the same truth with me, cleave to your companions; I will seek my own. I do this not selfishly but humbly and truly. It is alike your interest, and mine, and all men’s, however long we have dwelt in lies, to live in truth. "

Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance and Other Essays (emphasis mine)

If anyone's interested, I can't stop listening to Miguel and his excellent modern/throwback/80s-style (I don't even know how to describe it really) brand of R&B. Listen to this loud so you can hear that truly chill-worthy walking bass-line.

As for the lyrics, I feel like he's trying to give his own, slightly classier, twist on YOLO...which is...whatever.

I just need everyone to know that "Oz: the Great And Powerful" is pretty terrible and you probably shouldn't watch it.

Sometimes I feel like I'm chronicling my life in snippets- in comments left on articles and blogs, in snapshots posted on social media, sticky notes strewn around my desk- not in a meaningful way, just a stream of flotsam trailing in my digital/real life wake. And I am, I guess. I lack the motivation to turn it into anything more meaningful, more complete. Part of that is the result of my own curation- the belief that things I choose not to share publicly should not be shared with anyone. Is that dishonest? That I keep most of myself for...well, just myself? Or is that normal?

Eva's

Have you been to Eva's Bakery yet? It's my new weekly lunch treat. On Wednesdays I work a reference shift from 12-2:30 and then take an incredibly late lunch and wander down the street to this sparkling, adorable gem of a bakery/cafe. I mean JUST LOOK at that facade. I DIE. It's so cute. (wait until you go inside, it gets even better). So far I've tried the savory bread pudding (cheesy and vegetable-y and warm and delicious- comfort food to the max, with a tiny side salad of mixed greens so you can feel good about eating a large slab of cream-soaked bread), the turkey and brie croque monsieur (like an open-faced cheesy melty sandwich- nothing to complain about there), but what I really love so far are the pastries. The fruit flavored pastries taste like heaven. Their tangerine bar is like a California summer- with a sharp, fresh bite of tangerine. The only other one I've had was some sort of apricot pinwheel, and I love apricots, but I have no idea where/how they found apricots that taste that wonderful at this time of year (or who they had to kill), but they succeeded. I'm excited for further carbventures. 

(photo from here)

Some days the only real reason I go to the gym is to relieve massive chest pains.

I just bought this fabric:

To make this dress:

So yeah, I'm pretty excited about that. THERE'S SO MUCH GOING ON IN MY LIFE RIGHT NOW Y'ALL. Obviously.

I know all my posts have been about guys lately but I can't help it. Other things in my life are pretty stable so it's what I think about. But really all I want to talk about right now is that moment when you meet someone and you start a REALLY good conversation with them by saying "pants are hard" and then you're talking about gentrification in northeast D.C. and a bunch of other things and you want to keep talking and then you ask them a question that brings up the fact that they recently made a major life change because both of their parents are in bad health and then you feel awkward about having brought it up inadvertently but then the conversation continues and it's still great and you start thinking "it's colder than ANTARCTICA out here" and "what do I do with this plate of half-eaten cheese ball I'm holding" and "hey, maybe he'll ask for my number or something and we can continue this conversation another time and some place warmer" but then he doesn't and it's wrapping up and you're standing there in the bitter cold watching him walk away and thinking "well, that was disappointing" because it was. And then you come home and write a run-on sentence about it. Yeah, you know those moments? They're the worst.

Update: and THEN you find out he's 40 and a high councilman and you have a friend sneakily try to set you up anyways.

New umbrella (this is obviously exciting news)

On the way to work this morning, I realized my umbrella is broken. It's just a free umbrella that my dad got from one of the hospitals where he works, so no big deal (but kinda because it's my Chattanooga umbrella). Anyways it doesn't close right, I think the stick is detached from the canopy somehow, etc... So I started looking for a new umbrella, and discovered that overstock.com sells umbrellas THAT LOOK LIKE SAMURAI SWORDS. Yes please duh of course I want one. So I BOUGHT ONE. I'm so excited. Stop judging me.

Can't sleep and I just narrowly avoided falling out of bed in a sleepy delirium.

Now that I've found stable employment and have a passably safe place to live, my only life goal is to avoid cankles, no matter the cost.

Yesterday, the Washington post published a blessedly logical and unemotional call for better gun control by Fareed Zakaria. Its clear organization of the facts leaves little room for doubt as to the cause of America's gun violence epidemic. He points out that while American rates of non-gun related crimes are comparable to those of other wealthy, developed nations, our rates of gun violence are 12-30 times higher than those countries. The difference cannot be culture. The difference cannot be the media. The difference cannot be video games. The difference cannot be higher rates of mental illness. Other countries have violent cultures, media complexes that present violent crimes with sensationalized language and obsessive detail, are far more involved in video games than ours, and have comparable rates of mental illness. The major, glaring difference is our permissive gun laws, originally written and passed to promote the ability of American citizens to defend themselves; laws which now make it a necessity that Americans defend themselves. It is not healthy. It is not safe. I am not willing to risk my life on a daily basis simply so those around me can exercise their government (not God) granted right to carry tools of despair, nor am I willing to join them in their insanity to protect myself.

Read Zakaria's editorial here.

(Sorry for the political digression, I'll be back to posting music videos and boring stories soon, I promise.)

Also, you need to watch this

The harmonies on the chorus- gah!

STUFF

You may not know this about me (but, let's face it, if you're reading this, you probably know me pretty well, and consequently you probably DO know this about me) but I am monumentally bad at waiting. Waiting for things. Waiting for people. Waiting for the weather to change. Every time I think I've learned how to be oh-so-patient, something happens that is completely and absurdly out of my control and teaches me that I know nothing at all. Even if it's a good thing that I'm waiting on...it kills me. It also consumes my brain so I have little room to think of anything else. Things are hard you guys. I know this is really vague. I'm sorry for that. I just thought you might sympathize :)

I got an email from a friend today. In it she said "Life isn’t perfect, but we choose how we deal with it. I think you excel at this." I think that's one of the highest compliments someone could possibly give me right now, mainly because I feel like a wimpy whiner most of the time. 

What I'm obsessing over right now

Weirdest video ever but I cannot stop listening to this song.

A wintry death

You guys. Snow + my car + my absolute inability to force myself to replace my sad old tires with anything even slightly more snow appropriate = all of these things will lead me to ruin before this winter is over. I love this canyon. I wish I could squash it into a tiny package, wrap it in sunshine and that wonderful smell it has after rain and then stuff it away in a little corner of my heart FOR ALL TIME, but the winter commute INTO the canyon is a completely different story. It's like running down a trail, coming face to face with a bear, the bear seeing you, running towards you, swiping at your face with its massive claws and missing by millimeters. That feeling you would have in your heart? That's how I feel when it's snowing and I somehow make it to work safely.

Off to ponder what other folksy nature-related metaphors I can share with you this morning.....

In the meantime, listen to this:



And then read the famously snarky A.O. Scott's review of Lincoln. It's not unusual for him to be so eloquent, but this kind of commendation and reverence is incredibly unusual coming from him. It is a wonderfully well-written review (I love and appreciate a good movie review), and I'm incredibly excited to watch this movie.

You guys. Brandi Carlile.

Quotes

“In the process of life, we are not always the already-tempered and helpful hammer; shaping and pounding another.  Sometimes we are merely the anvil.” 

George MacDonald

The Civil Wars

For me, right now, this is perfection.

I can't help it.

That awkward moment when your boss asks what you're listening to, and you answer "Karmin", because you've been mindlessly listening to "Brokenhearted" on repeat for an hour, and he says "oh Carmen! Oh that's wonderful, good for you!", and then you don't correct him, and you're not sure if it's because you're embarrassed to be listening to such ridiculous music at work, or because you know he'll never understand what you're talking about if you tell him that Carmen was SO eighth grade for you and that if you're going to listen to opera at work, you'd really rather just listen to the last 3 minutes or so of Wagner's masterwork over and over again these days.

And then you remember that OTHER awkward moment when you entered one of the cave chambers singing opera style at the top of your lungs- because you thought it was empty and also because you're RIDICULOUS- and then saw him turn a corner at the back of the chamber and start walking your way, and you know, in that moment of remembering, that you'll be that crazy opera obsessed employee in his brain for the rest of your days, just as you were, inexplicably, a Disneyland geek in the brain of your last boss.

But there are worse things, right?

“And the end of all our exploring, will be to arrive where we started, and know the place for the first time.” -T.S. Eliot

This I Believe

"The hunt I'll never forget was after I'd moved away. Dad was almost seventy, and I was home for a few days. I had a cast on my leg and couldn't get it wet. Dad carried me--all 195 pounds, plus cast, guns, and plenty of shells--all the way to the blind. "You're not too heavy, Jim," he said.

"I believe that I am the man I am today because of that relationship. I learned to do things simply, to stay with the things that work, to be patient, to appreciate silence. I learned that discomfort is transient. I learned that I was a welcome burden to my dad, that life without burden is a life without weight, a shallow life. I believe we need the encumbrance of challenge. As dad plodded along through the water and over the levee, he occasionally stumbled, but never fell.

"I learned to love my children in this same way. I have created my own refuge with each. Their weight is never too heavy. It is welcome. Sometimes I stumble, make mistakes, but I never fall." (emphasis added, please listen to the entire essay here)

Last Sunday, a man was speaking in church and for whatever reason, mentioned a question that he likes to ask on first dates- "what defines you?" I turned to my friend and whispered "dealbreaker". She laughed. Then I thought, whatamIdoingbeseriousthisischurch. THEN I thought, what would I say if someone asked me that question? What DO I say? Usually something about my hobbies. Something about my education. Something about my army-brat rearing. Something about my religion. Something about my family. But none of those things alone describe nearly who I am or who I hope to be.

Last night, a friend was jokingly talking about her life's mantra- something about ice cream and dessert and if it makes you happy then that's good for your heart so then it's good for you. I don't even know. But in the middle of this silly conversation, I started thinking- if I had to condense my approach to life into just a few words, something snappily quotable, what would it be?

Whenever I think about things like this, I inevitably come back to this essay by James Johnson, a professor at Smith College, for "This I Believe". I know I've shared it here before, but it's been on my mind again lately.  Maybe I put too much weight on this gem by one man about whom I know next to nothing? I don't know. But I do know that right now, at this exact moment, if someone asked me what defined me, what my "mantra" is, I would tell them that, more than anything, I want to create a life for myself that is substantial. I would tell them that I believe a "life without burden is a life without weight, a shallow life". I would try to tell them something that embodies my belief that a necessary and considerable part of life should be confronting, bearing, and overcoming challenges; whether these are challenges I face alone, on behalf of or with someone I care about, or challenges facing my community. Obviously, I have a long way to go, but I hope through this to become someone worth knowing. I hope that, eventually, I can be the one to say "sometimes I stumble, make mistakes, but I never fall."

"Raw experience is empty, just as empty as the forecastle of a whaler, as in the chamber of a counting house; it is not what one does, but in a manifold sense, what one realizes that keeps existence from being vain and trivial. Mankind moves about in worlds not realized... It is the artist, the knower, the sayer, who realizes human experience, who takes the raw lump of ore we find in nature, smelts it, refines it, assays it, and stamps it into coins that can pass from hand to hand and make every man who touches them the richer." -Lewis Mumford

(found here)

Don't mind me, I'm just feeling pretentious...

Have you ever read The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran? I first came across it years ago (and it's funny reading up about it now, apparently it was quite popular in the 60s, and supposedly he's among the top three best-selling poets of all time, but guess what folks, I was born in the 80s and I had never even heard Gibran's name until I found this tiny book on a friend's shelf), and every once in a while it forces itself back to the front of my mind. 

I'm baffled by it. I never quite know whether it's sublime or overwrought. A little of both, I think. Maybe that's one reason why I love it- the sheer beauty of some sections, and the forced, sometimes awkward drama of others is an interesting reflection of the idea of duality that is woven through the entire book. There are some things that ring so true and others that strike me as completely bogus. I don't know. I like it. Look it up.

And until you do that, here are some of my favorite passages (under their respective section titles):

The Coming of the Ship (i.e. the Prophet gets ready to blow this joint)(my words, not Gibran's)
      "...He descended the hill, a sadness came upon him, and he thought in his heart: How      shall I go in peace and without sorrow? Nay, not without a wound in the spirit shall I leave   this city. 
      Long were the days of pain I have spent within its walls, and long were the nights of aloneness; and who can depart from his pain and his aloneness without regret? 
      Too many fragments of the spirit have I scattered in these streets...and I cannot withdraw from them without a burden and an ache. 
      It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin that I tear with my own hands. Nor is it a thought I leave behind me, but a heart made sweet with hunger and with thirst."

On Love (don't judge me for loving this passage, I know it's terribly Marianne Dashwood of me)

     "When love beckons to you follow him, 

      Though his ways are hard and steep. 
      And when his wings enfold you yield to him, 
      Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, 
      Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.... 

        But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires: 
      To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. 
      To know the pain of too much tenderness. 
      To be wounded by your own understanding of love; 
      And to bleed willingly and joyfully. 
      To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving; 
      To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy; 
      To return home at eventide with gratitude; 
      And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips. "

On Children (probably my favorite section, especially those last two lines)
      "You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth. 
      The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far. 
      Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness; 
      For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable." 

On Friendship
     "When you part from your friend, you grieve not; 
      For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain. 
      And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit."

Also,

As I told my friend today, crushes are HARD. Having them, I mean. Not being crushed by a boulder. That is all.

On happiness

Last night, for about 20 minutes, I was the happiest I've felt in a long time. I'm not saying that I haven't been happy. Last night was just different. I just...things just felt right. Every single thing felt like it was exactly as it should be. I returned the day before from my first camping trip in years (I've had some truly terrible camping experiences in the past- they generally scare me away from woodsy jaunts). Even though I barely slept the entire trip (I don't do so well in the outdoors), even though I felt disgusting by the time I got back, even though some of the fellow campers were slightly crazier than normal, even though I'm absurdly out of shape and hiking kills me, even though a million things, it was a perfect trip. The setting was divine- Grand Teton National Park and Yellowstone. My car mates were wonderful- even though I barely knew half of them before leaving (and one kept calling me the wrong name...I don't think I look like a Becky or a Holly, but apparently I do), and even though we spent dozens of hours riding in a cramped car together over a four day period, there was rarely any tension- any of that "if I have to spend one more second in the car with you people I'll [insert drastic action here]". Well, there was rarely any of that for me, I guess I can't vouch for the others :)

I was able to just enjoy the surroundings, spend some time in silence even though there were so many of us, (I'm a solitary hiker- I have to say I prefer it best when I'm alone and can obsess over small things like flowers and unusual rocks- it's the simple things, right? :), spend lots of time having some ridiculous conversations, some serious conversations, and just enjoy discovering new people and new places.

(Grand Teton, taken from here)

The day after we returned was a state holiday (thank Heaven for Utah and its made-up holidays). I: slept in (wonderful), washed and vacuumed my car (I had forgotten what a pretty deep red it is- I guess colors don't show that well under layers of dirt? Weird how that happens :), spent some time with extended family down South- visiting with cousins I rarely see (one for the first time in 10 years), marveling at the silliness of their kids, eating hot dogs and enjoying the weather. Then I came home to review my notes from ALA for a presentation at work today, but rather than doing it at home, I decided I needed to get out of the house and wander in the mountains. I packed up my notes and some water and hiked the peak behind Ensign, which I've been wanting to do for a long time now.

I'm so glad I decided to check that off my list last night. As soon as I made it to the top, I was overwhelmed with gratitude and deep contentment. I can do hard things. I guess that's the lesson of everything I've been trying to share. If I want to scale a mountain- I can. If I want to have a pleasant time getting to know new people and not make it awkward, I can do that too. If I want to have a charming and delightful visit with relatives with whom there has traditionally been a bit of conflict, I can set that aside and make a conscious choice to improve those relationships. All of that, and in connection, I should stop underestimating my own abilities and set high expectations for myself, having the confidence that I can meet those expectations. Because I can.

And that's the best feeling I've had in a very long time.

This, right now.

A blog I love

Have you ever looked at the blog "the wild and wily ways of a brunette bombshell"?

I'm slightly obsessed and ohsoimpressed. She combines snapshots of life in New York with wonderful, thoughtful, natural writing. The photo posts satisfy my need for adventure, and the written snippets are almost embarrassingly romantic (embarrassing for me to read I mean, because I feel like an interloper- not in any way because of the writing), but still chill-makingly wonderful. Read this, or this, or this series of "letters to the man who'll make me an honest woman". Everything about this blog feels fresh and honest and wonderful.

Remember that one winter when it snowed like madness in Chattanooga? I do. It was heavenly..

The Preservation Hall Jazz Band and the Del McRoury band played in town this week. WHY WASN'T I THERE?!

I just had a moment of real panic RE: not knowing what the future holds. Being in a temporary job which may or may not become permanent and interviewing (successfully? or not?) for other jobs and really just having no insight into where I'll be living in 3-4 months is exhausting.

I know I've talked about this before, and I know it's not a unique situation. Honestly, I'm grateful to be employed at all, for however short a time. I love my workplace, and I'm excited about the outside jobs that I'm applying for. That's a good thing, right? No matter where I end up, there will be perks and there will be sacrifices. If I leave Utah, I'm giving up a community that I absolutely adore, and a cause that I'm excited about, but I'll be (hopefully) gaining a permanent situation and new challenges (you know I love a challenge), and a new place to discover.

I know I'm being incredibly self-indulgent, but can you sympathize?



(photo- my house courtesy of Google Maps' wonderful 8-bit April Fools version)

Thoroughly Modern Millie

I can't get this out of my head today. I <3 Millie with all of my little heart, and Sutton Foster is INSANELY SPECTACULAR in this clip.

You know

Or at least you should know by now that I love a snarky New York Times movie rating explanation. Though the review for Battleship is bland (as, I suspect, the movie will be), that little blurb at the end does not disappoint.

"Battleship is rated PG-13 (Parents strongly cautioned). Because even against space aliens, war is hell."

Oh Maurice...

When I was a kid- probably seven or eight- and recovering from an event of unspeakable horror, someone gave me a a copy of Dear Mili, a then newly discovered fairy tale written by Wilhelm Grimm which was printed alongside illustrations by Maurice Sendak. I hated it. I'm not completely sure why. It was a combination of things, I think. This particular copy of the book had (and still has) the most bizarre smell; the story itself comes to a terrible, tragic close (which shouldn't be surprising in a Grimm tale that hasn't been manhandled by modern editors to make it more palatable); most of all, the illustrations were strange to me- full of symbols I didn't recognize or understand, full of religious references that seemed out of place, printed in muted colors that were unappealing to me at the time, with faces that seemed too realistic almost for their stylized surroundings, and noses that were just...massive. Even though I hated that book, I looked at it often.

As time went on and I got older and left certain things behind, I still returned to Dear Mili periodically, to wonder why it had been given to me, to puzzle over the pictures. As time went on, I started to dislike the book for a different reason- for the connection it had to that singular event.

Now, for whatever reason (probably shared history more than anything else) it's incredibly precious to me. I love the story of a mother's sacrifice for her child's safety. I love it for the idea that, even in war and darkness, there's a place where children can be safe, where they can be protected by individuals who are profoundly interested in their welfare. I love it for those illustrations that bothered me so much when I was young- for the imperfect faces with their beautiful noses, for the richness of symbol and for the soft colors that, at an appropriate point in the story, shift into tropical vibrance. Despite its dark end, there's something deep and sweet in the idea that, no matter what we've passed through, we can come home again.

I'm grateful for Sendak's unflinching treatment of difficult, even dark themes. As few authors seem to these days, he respected children and believed firmly in their strength and resilience. "Parents shouldn’t assume children are made out of sugar candy and will break and collapse instantly. Kids don’t. We do." (from TIME Magazine, 1988/12/05). I'm grateful for the generosity with which he shared his monumental talent and trademark wit with the world.

Running running and running running and running running

I just dropped a huge wad of money on real, honest to goodness running shoes. I figured if I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it in style. Oh yeah, and also in a way that won't injure me.

If sinking a lot of money into something isn't a good motivation to keep doing it, I don't know what is. PROOF. I ran two miles tonight. Well, about half ran/half walked. I'm still getting up to speed. When was the last time I ran two miles together? Like in a row? Probably never. Go me!

Royal blues

YES. This is so amazing. I never knew I cared about the Queen's color distribution until Vogue told me all about it.

The dangers of specialization.

I think my profession has poisoned my brain. I just changed my profile picture and cover photo on Facebook, then hid the changes from my timeline (stuff like that is boring and I don't think it needs a place). However, as soon as I hid those changes, I thought about someone in 80 years (or some distant future date) trying to learn more about me and what if they really needed to know when I changed the photos?! Now they'd never be able to tell!!!!!

These are the kinds of tiny details that are meaningless to us now, but contribute a lot to understanding a person.

As to why anyone would be trying to learn more about me, I have no idea. My thought processes are just twisted all around by archiving.

A startling realization has been sneaking up on me over the last year. I've been stubborn, refused to speak it out loud, worried that it might not be the coolest of opinions (oh wait, cool is one thing that's never really applied to me. Whew, guess I don't have to worry about that one). What is it, you ask?

I love Salt Lake City.

Like a lot.

Like heartbeatingfasteverythingseemsbrighter levels of love.

I don't know what to do about it.

Projects and things

I just started working on a Wiksten Tova top in a super lightweight gauzy printed cotton. I want a million lightweight shirts for this summer- I have a feeling it's going to be extremely long and burningly hot (like every summer in Utah, let's be honest).

Thinking of summer makes me dream of vacations. I'm trying to decide whether or not to join a group of friends who are planning to hike Hadrian's wall next summer (see my last post on my inability to make long term plans with an uncertain future staring me down).

Not much funny has happened lately. Sorry.

Also, go see John Carter- just because I actually feel sorry for Disney that it was such a monumental financial flop. Honestly, it's completely absurd, but still kind of a fun movie- old fashioned swash-buckle-y-ness...but with lots of CGI and lots of abs. If nothing else, do it for Edgar Rice Burroughs.

Yesterday I saw four mountain goats at work.

Today we're having a snake/safety/awareness training. With real snakes.

My workplace is cooler than yours, freezing cave notwithstanding. I'm just saying.

Also, can we talk about how hard it is to plan for the future when you have no idea where/if you'll be employed in six months? I want to take trips and accrue vacation days and learn stuff and buy a condo (preferably with lots of exposed brick and industrial design features so all of my frilly decorations will look more balanced). I'm learning a lot about patience right now. I think.

Am I crazy?

There's a bike shop in town that fixes up used/vintage bikes and resells them. I drove past last night and there out front was an exact replica of my happy little 1974 Schwinn Suburban, but instead of nondescript copper like my bike, it was a delightful shade of raspberry. RASPBERRY y'all. Would it be strange if I bought it and had two of the same bike?


(Mine looks like this, but with oh-so-shiny copper fenders. I do love it. Photo courtesy of Velospace.)

Midnight in Awkwardland

Today I went to the release party for Shannon Hale's new book "Midnight in Austenland"! It was so much fun! I don't think I've ever been to a book signing before...shocking, right? I went by myself, and it was at a tiny independent bookstore over in Sugarhouse. She told hilarious stories about filming "Austenland" in England over the summer, I somehow ended up standing sandwiched between her parents and her husband, there was an impromptu murder mystery game to be played while waiting for signing, and there were also secret prizes hidden throughout the bookstore- I found one! It's the German edition of my favorite book of hers- "Book of a Thousand Days". Maybe it's a sign that I need to ditch Russian and start learning German instead?


Then I was next in line and after spending my line-time thinking about what to say I stepped up and....couldn't say anything. WHAT?! It was like on that episode of Community where Troy meets his hero Lavar Burton and spends the whole visit not talking and running out of the room screaming when ovserwhelmed. Except...she's not even my hero, just an author whose books I enjoy, and who I think is really intelligent and hilarious and just generally kind of great. I think I just jinxed myself by thinking about it too much? And it was just horrible. She wrote something German in my "Das Buch der Tausend Tage" and she looked at it and said "I hope that's right!" and I "well, I won't know if it's not!" and sounded really ungrateful and then walked away awkwardly as she said "it was nice to meet you!" after me. Omg whyyyyyyyyy.



Anyways, I have my copy of "Midnight in Austenland" and I'm super excited to read it.

On a happier note, something truly charming and delightful happened when I first got to the bookstore and was waiting in line to buy my books. I saw the cutest thing I've ever seen. There was a family in front of me in line- two parents and a girl who was maybe 5 or 6- and she was carrying a book of photos of Gaudi's buildings in Barcelona, and she kept turning the page and saying things like "oooh we were there! How old is this building?" She wanted to buy it but her mom kept saying "but we have photos of all those bldgs from when we were there!" Eventually she gave in (who wouldn't give in to a wee squeaky little child begging for a book about great architecture?), and as the little girl handed the book over to her mom, she said in a reverent voice, "it's soooo awesome!". I almost died. I just wanted to eat her she was so cute. What small child cares about Gaudi? Weird and wonderful.

I just applied for a job posted by a group of museums/historical societies in PA. They're looking for a temporary cataloger for their textile collections. OMGAWESOME. It wasn't until I was describing this job to my Friday lunch group that I realized I may be the only person that gets giddy about a job like that. But seriously, how perfect would it be for me? Me, who can only think about textiles all. day. long. ITWOULDBETHEBESTEVER.