Tag Archives: books

come build me up // come shed your light

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I love new year’s. I love a new start. I love a new planner. I love a chance to start fresh, keeping in mind everything that happened last year and beyond. I love organizing things and organizing life into months and years is just so convenient, don’t you think?

Last year I made some new year’s resolutions, and some I kept and some I didn’t. I’m reupping several, therefore, to hope to make them this year, and adding some new ones for good measure. I like the idea of vague goals for some things (more free time) and concrete goals for others (300 miles to run). So without further ado, here are my goals.

  • read 52 books (I read 26 last year, half of my goal, but double the year before)
  • find more free time for walking, wandering, laughing, sunshine, giggling, and Scrabble (guys, I am the queen of overbooking, in case you didn’t know)
  • run 300 miles (I ran 107 and 2014. Let’s hope this summer isn’t hella hot and I can actually run outside from May to September, or find a gym to join I like)
  • do an unassisted headstand (which goes hand and hand with more yoga and killer arms and shoulders, please thank you)
  • move (we have been trying to move for literally four years, and I can feel in my bones 2015 is the year of the house)
  • reevaluate my recipe wheelhouse (the thing about having a food blog is you tend to make things either once or over and over and over again. If I feed Corelyn chicken quesadillas one more time I think she’s going to leave me, so we’d better find some new fun things Jeff will eat that are also healthy – and quick!)

Here’s to 2015. Here’s to adventuring and friends’ weddings and camping and sunshine and running and laughing and playing and fun. Happy New Year, lovelies – may your first weekend of the year be as cleansing as mine.

xo

 

Spring cleaning, summer reading.

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18 books. $2.25.

You cannot beat the spring used book sale.

  • The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood
  • All the President’s Men by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward
  • A Rumor of War by Philip Caputo
  • Bridget Jones’s Diary by Helen Fielding
  • Animal Dreams by Barbara Kingslover
  • Pigs in Heaven by Barbara Kingslover
  • Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer
  • Immortality by Milan Kundrea
  • Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri
  • The Coffee Trader by David Liss
  • The Last Chinese Chef by Nicole Mones
  • Northern Lights by Philip Pullman
  • Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safranfoer
  • Shanghai Girls by Lisa See
  • The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein
  • The Devil Wears Prada by Lauren Weisberger
  • Ya-Yas in Bloom by Rebecca Wells
  • Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood by Rebecca Wells
  • A Mad Desire to Dance by Elie Wiesel

How pointless life could be, what a foolish business…

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…of inventing things to love, just so you could dread losing them.

Prodigal Summer = done.

Thank you, Barbara, for once again stealing my heart, breaking it just a little, putting it back together, and making me want to quit everything and become a farmer.

I will always love what you have given this world.

This weekend was:

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Sunshine. Scrambled eggs. My favorite girls. Tunes in my kitchen. Yoga at the gym. “Oh, we’re subleasing.” Downward facing dog. Triangle. Airplane. Walking home in the sunshine. Packing for the beach. Books, towels, blankets, pizza. Sun. In the car, tunes up, windows down, friends surrounding friends. Busy beach, moving on, quiet beach. Laughing so hard you cry. Sun. Blanket spread, friends arriving. “These are my friends from high school.” Loving getting to say that, over and over again. Explaining how we’re all friends. Running in the water. Video taping it. K, B, and I in the water. Getting tossed out of the ocean by the waves. Bruises from the sea [no, thank you, you are not admitted.] Laying out. Showers on the beach. Wedding on the beach. Reading on the beach. Sleeping on the beach. Bleachers on the beach. Nerf football. Chattering away at each other. Birthday wishes. Sun going down, lifeguards arriving. Young lifeguards. Time to leave. Packing it up, in, and out. Changing, laughing, sun dipping. Pictures. Two cars, four girls, makeup on. Smiles, oohs and ahhs, pictures. Camera on timer, on the car. Friendly passerby shooting our smiles, or glances at the sea, and the helicopter. Dinner. Fancy restaurant, by the sea. Seated, by the kitchen. A bottle of wine. New friends, old friends. Seafood, Alfredo. Mud Pie. Laughing, laughing. Smiles. Stories, long and short. Hugs, mints flavored like sugar, and hugs. Valet cars, and home. Traffic. Life stories, on the streets of LA, through the night, to home. Rent. Rent checks. Back in the car. More life stories, because the traffic in LA is never light, and the load on your heart is never lifted.

Sleep. Wake.

Bikes. Farmer’s market. Is that man dead? No, I think no. Garlic, and so large it is. Peaches, because they are too good to resist. Sunshine on my shoulders, bike grease on my hands. “Do you always get this much stuff” because the bag was so heavy. 5 ears of corn. Ride home, dead man walking, dead man gone. Sun. Home. K and M home, too. Some water, some rest. Clean the kitchen — more guests coming. avocado brie toast. Clean out the cooler. Thank you, K. Onto the Grove, for movies. Missed movie…Crate and Barrel. Wanting to own every piece of furniture. “Where do you send your samples?” and Barbara. Loving everything. Teeny spoon. Too late again, fourth row? A fourth friend. Seated two by two, laughing inappropriate loud throughout — parts funny, and not. Movie over, 6:40. Just like she said.

Home, change, borrow clothes, Corelyn you’re a saint. Pink Taco. For five. At eight. No, for three. At eight thirty. Slowly back to five…friends, stories, epic stories, family trees, timelines. Tahiti. Not going to Tahiti. Ever. It’s a volcano. So many tacos, so good. Sangria, by the pitcher, because we can. Dark atmosphere, light hearts.

Outside. Dark. 10:00. Photographs on the stairs, by the blue wall. Jumping, jumping high fives, band photos. I am the lead singer. Smiles, not smiles, advertisements for who knows what. “Remember when we had a band?” “Oh, you mean Frost?” Because I had forgotten we named it. “Just kiss her.” More photos. Tree lights, Jeff lying on the ground, photos. Mannequins, poses, smiles, laughing. “You know what would be a great shot?” Three cameras. 11:02. Let’s get out of here, Diddy Riese.

Diddy Riese. Short line. Share a sandwich, taste all three. More laughs, more smiles. 11:48. “Would you like to be in our short documentary?” Are you sleep deprived? Yes, right now. Laughs, chats. Snapped Achilles? Interesting story. Visual journalism. So, so nice to meet you, good luck. 12:00. In the car, home. 12:20. Best. Weekend. Ever.