Best Of: the last week or two.

I've been tweaking hard the last couple of weeks off of work. The wedding has about five million bajillion things running through my brain and I have to say, I've spent an unhealthy amount of time on the internet.

See, the thing I've learned about weddings is that you never stop looking for ideas. It's maddening. Even though I pretty much know which way I want to go, I look for more. And I want every single one of those five hundred teeny details that pull it all together.

I got my cousin, Robert, a subscription to Make Magazine for the holidays so that he and D can tweak out on their cool projects. What I didn't expect, was to get addicted to their funky sister, Craft Magazine. And so, that has sent me on a DIY-spiral, wedding wise and otherwise. Their fabulous blog has great links to projects and all sorts of things across this world wide web. Through them I've found places to download neat fonts, a blog about historical cooking, sewing patterns, and uplifting stories about how craft has impacted people's lives.

On the handmade kick, I have also reinvested my energy into Etsy and have even encouraged my beau to start up his own store to sell his artwork. More details to come in the future.

To be fair, what time I haven't spent on the internet, I've actually tried to devote to cultivating my relationship with the local environment. We were lucky enough to get gift certificates for Bryant Lake Bowl's Date Night as well as D and my new favorite hang, Ginger Hop (also fave cause it is right next to the store). Since we're food junkies, the Heavy Table blog keeps me informed as to the local culinary goings-on with beautiful photographs to let me drool along.

Trying to adjust to social life has also been eased by our becoming regulars at the Joe and Noah Monday Night Trivia at Sauce. It helps that both of us have become fact masters through exposure and also regularly get our drinks paid for. Oh, and their parmee-sian french fries are worth the trip alone.

Window shopping for fun and unique pieces is also something my sweetie and I have in common. This place is so cool, D and I would like to furnish our whole house with it: City Salvage. And it's not too expensive, considering (anyone who would like to garnish me with any kind of gift can buy the print above).

Here's to a new year full of more wonderful discoveries--as well as having the right company to find them with.

I love stories.

Maija thinks that this is odd, but I actually enjoy listening to stories while I drive, as opposed to always having music. Comedy albums are good too.

But these two take the cake and always offer up something new.

The Moth Podcast
This American Life

Dee-lightful

Saturday antiquing with my boo. Found the most wonderful shop on W 7th in St. Paul, right next to the Catholic Charities day treatment center. Reasonable prices and a wonderful owner. I spent the entire time in the postcards section and couldn't resist sharing this with you. Thank you, Westcott's Station Antiques.

yellow and grey.

grey skies tend to bring about sentimentality.
i feel good in my small black leather jacket and large fluffy scarf, cat eyes peering at what's going on in the street outside. have been romanticizing the past lately, dreams of a-line skirts and white gloves, though the present is always present in the way you look at me. taking a unmarked cd out of one of the cars to find that my sister's taste coincides for brief moments, flashes of thought patterns tied to song. surprised that i am enjoying the cold weather, if only the joy that it brings about huddling over steaming cups of hot chocolate and warm puppies curled up at the foot of your bed. you scrunch your shoulders up when you are excited, just like you do when you are cold, and i find myself mimicking the way you do, paying homage to my wish to absorb you.
i'll knit you a scarf and for myself a large beret to go with my newly found fall joy. perhaps too, there will be a golden afghan to envelop the both of us.

for those friends with a heightened sense of curiosity.

as far as i can find, this was my paternal grandmother's.

she was married April 10th, 1943.

Falling into a new start.

"...mekleju vardus kalna mala..."*

shift. reset.

this morning it snowed.
there is something comforting about the effort to keep warm. as a kid i relished the mornings in which i could peer my head out of my cocoon of warm blanket and taste the cool air enveloping me. today, i sleepily cradled a steaming cup of licorice tea, lit the furnace, and layered long shirt, white sweater, black jacket, yellow scarf.
now i sit, layers shed, absent-mindedly fiddling with the ring on my left hand thinking.
for some time the words have escaped me, trapped in an exhausting whirlpool of mute observation. but slowly they are coming back to me emerging with an energy reminiscent of the epic Latvian bear hero.

I am finding that I am enjoying fall. Previous talk of it brought tense anticipation, but the reality of soft and heavy fabrics, stick-to-your ribs type fare, and sneaking into the warm crook of your love's arm is much nicer than expected. Maija has done nothing other than to extoll the virtues of local apples and Charline is tempting me to begin knitting again. I am mad about these felty boots from Target and this golden wool scarf from Boden. Grey and gold are destined to be colors of mine this season.

Working to build the familiarity that makes one feel at home. After a long day at work, am planning to treat us to a neighbourhood soul food restaurant, Brasa, in an attempt to reach the Southern comfort signals in our heads and encourage some sense of acclimation.

Looking forward to the long haul.


*Trans.: "...looking for words at the edge of the mountain..." --Prata Vetra

opposing viewpoints.

back from a mini-trip to GA, the car still making odd noises, a weird combination of nerves and relaxation. today is monday, and i relish a few extra minutes before work, anticipating a long and hectic day, two days in a row. money is thin until the end of the week and payday, as it is all going to the car fund, or dentist fund, or moving fund. i do my best to get through to the positive moments awaiting me, though i fear the anxiety piling up the longer i stay.

In a floral state of mind.

I've been going absolutely batty for the beautiful fabric flowers I've been seeing this season. They've become more sophisticated than kitschy and add a nice little touch of color and summer to any outfit, casual or formal.

The photo is courtesy of the Sartorialist (a must read).

Also, if you're in the mood to do some handiwork, Martha Stewart's page has had some really nice instructionals as well.

Reboot.

Again, again, the excitement of something new. The to do list of summer has finally given way to warm weather fantasies. Alfred and I have shared time in the shade on grassy knolls, plans have been made to pick berries, late night romantic summer walks have taken place, and other such living out of the imagination. Our tomatoes are doing so well, through no help of our own, that we've had to prune them back several times. I have numerous recipes for pasta sauce and cold salads waiting in the wings. The only thing I have not yet been able to enjoy is swimming and that makes me miss mn ever more dearly. In time, in time.
The newest issue of National Geographic has an oh so wonderful article about Midwestern state fairs, written by Mr. Garrison Keilor, who perfectly captures the essence of what makes them both repulsing and great. I recommend it as a good read for those end of the summer anxieties that are already slowly creeping into the wings.
We slowly move forward in packing and say little goodbyes to this place that has sustained us for better or for worse. But still barely containing our excitement to leave and start from scratch.

Geneology.

Lately, I have been collecting names.
Family names especially fascinate me because of their rich history and sense of significance (or sometimes, lack of). I've been toying with the idea of making a blog about my families and their names. D adds an extra facet, because as opposed to our perpetually transient nature, his family has stayed in the same place for generations. So they have lush southern names (with a capital s), that roll off the tongue in a completely different way.
Top five favorites (if I had to pick):
1)Leopold
2)Mae
3)Washington
4)Ivie
5)Emmett

Marianne

"I used to think I was some kind of gypsy boy, before I let you take me home."

rose colored glasses.

we have a deep white sink, wrapped in plastic, sitting on the front porch.
it signifies the life that is percolating in our mind's-eye: a house that is also a home, family, love, and something that is far more stimulating and active than the current sedation we are surrounded by. it feels like some kind of awakening, moving out of hibernation.
you don't realize how bad it was until you have it good.
i'm going at top speed now, it's back, i'm moving. art, neighbors, friends, music, culture, everything of importance. i'm back, feeling like it's worth it, feeling like it's all coming together.
ideas come at a fast clip, i am enjoying myself, paring down and gearing up.
i'm ready to go.

and so:

the best has yet to come my friend, the best has yet to come

so raise your glass and toast the past:

the best is yet to come

Natural Decisions.

My writing has suffered as a result of too much life going on outside of this little box we call the computer.

Bliss has intervened and all sense of time has become a blur.

But, dear reader, I propose, as I have many times in the past, that I will come back to you.

I am actively preparing for the new season, looking forward to sprouting shoots and adventures as of yet not planned. I will see Minnesota, perhaps the West, and certainly various aspects of the East. After months of storage and clenched bodies, we are uncurling ourselves to wake up to the new air around us.

And as I love lists, I must ask: What are you looking forward to?

And I say yes once more.

Many birthdays find you with the phrase "Here we are again." Sometimes the tone is contemplative, sometimes resentful, but this year it is all together content. Noting the reflection of another year past, a summary of doings and a vast plane of emotional markers. I woke up in the darkness and pushed out into a cold, but wonderous morning of frost and mountain sunrises, beautiful and strong. I enjoyed the company of friends and phone calls from the people I love. And upon arriving home, Alfred and I took a ride into the turning light, to bring full circle the meaning of the day. I am thankful, and happy.

If it were now, I would say yes.

I am sitting upright in bed, hair pulled back somewhat untidily and glasses on, contemplating the creation of a bowl of oatmeal with bananas and cherries and walnuts. Alfred has lain himself across my knees, looking up at me questioningly, as if to ask whether his heavy body is drawing my hand's attention to the top of his head. The house is quiet and still; a distinct absence is apparent. Therefore, I must fill it. Fill the entire house, with movement, and the wafting scent of fresh food, and NPR voices, and new art. My hands must keep going while my eyes remain open. In this manner, I can ensure that I will continue to enjoy myself, though not all together unaware of the hole I am dancing around. And still, this happiness revs me like an engine, it is sure, and stable, and I know it will not run out. So, I put my faith in the unconscious workings of my brain and limbs to drive me forward, to make anew. It is another day.

New Year.

So, it is a new year.

I've always wondered whether my last year before turning 30 would play out like a 90s sitcom, lead character fretting about accomplishing everything on her "list" before the crows feet set in as the clock strikes midnight. Those shows always had the odd foreboding that once one officially moved into another decade of life, doors of opportunity would close and the "list" would be doomed to gather dust in the back of the closet. I've never really felt the same push. In fact, my thinking has been positively geared to the thirtysomething decade since sometime around my last birthday, since, honestly, how much does a 28-year-old have in common with a 21-year-old?

though i do have what i would call "urges to action."

This year, rather than set resolutions, I feel like just honoring myself and my instincts in general. Exploring things that interest and intrigue me, without giving them a timeline. And to give in less to our consumer culture which dictates what we should and shouldn't do, like and shouldn't like according to what the market looks like that season.

Oh, the drama.