what to do in nyc: the arthur ross terrace (located at the american museum of natural history)

so you've been in new york for a few days now and constantly going out for lunch and dinner is shrinking the wallet. rapidly.

here's my best suggestion:

pack a picnic. and head to the museum of natural history (located at 80th street and central park west). if you want to go in, by all means do...a more exciting museum is difficult to find and while they suggest a price, you are able to pay what you want/can (with the exception of certain exhibits, as well as the imax).

but after a long morning of exploring the innards of one manhattans great treasures, ask for the outdoor terrace (corner of 79th and colombus). and plop yourself down under the shade of some trees (there are tables) and feast on the beauty of the landscape, as well as the good (cheap) food you've brought. 

the area was built in the great tradition of european gardens, and you can feel it...it transports you. it feels private and beautiful, is nearly an acre in size, and rests against the glass encasement of the space exhibit. 

if you are coming with small children, pack water clothes for them (but know the boys must wear shirts, no matter the age, and everyone must wear shoes--water jellies and crocs come in very handy) and don't forget the spf, of course. then let the kids run free through the fountains. 

and if you're feeling the need for a calming moment...walk to area against the glass wall, where all the water drains...feel the buildup on your feet and marvel at how small you are in relation to...everything.

the best news is...it's free. you do not have to visit the museum in order to partake in the splendor of the terrace. 

do know that during the winter the terrace becomes a polar rink (a skating rink...but not quite, because it's not ice).

i have to say this is my new favorite place in all of new york. it's a great place to go to feel as though you've gotten out of the city. it is here that i can read, write, have lunch with a friend, and of course... run through the fountains (because i'll never be too old for that).

yes, they do.

two days ago i thanked regina for this reminder,

i've got a perfect body, but sometimes i forget.

and then taza reminded me (as taza tends to do) that the in full, the quote is:

i've got a perfect body, but sometimes i forget, i've got a perfect body 'cause my eyelashes catch my sweat, yes they do.

of course, i thought. 

of course (my favorite response). 

these bodies of ours do amazing things each and every day. so...this is my charge to you:

why is your body perfect?

mine?

well.

because my feet get me from one end of the tunnel to the next. 

and about a million other reasons. but that's the one i'll give. 

so now you. 

i want to know. 

and then i want to make a list.

and then we'll have begun the revolution without even realizing it.

what are you waiting for--why are you still reading this?

go.

ps: according to glamour magazine,

animal prints are making a

comeback (when did they ever

go away?) and so i've decided

to wear my zebra shoes

all the time, since i think i'm finally

coming back to myself.

yes, i am.

what to do in nyc: central park zoo

so i've been asked many a time what i like to do in nyc. in other words, people want to know what i suggest. and always, always i think...euf, i'm just about the worst person to ask because i don't get out... nearly enough. 

but. 

in truth. 

i do have a few ideas. 

and i'll go one at a time.

so how's this for a start?

when in the summer it becomes unbearably hot and i in turn become unbearably overwhelmed, i take great comfort in the penguin house at the central park zoo. 

the central park zoo, located at the southeast corner of the park, is small and carries a $10 price of admission for adults ($5 for kids). but it is home to an oasis of vegetation and a welcome respite from the daily grind and grit of manhattan. 

so why the penguin house, you ask? it's blissfully cool, you can sit on the bench that lines the wall for just about as long as you want, and those little creatures amaze me to no end. 

you see, they're just about the most awkward little things on land. waddling and tipping this way and that. but then they make up their minds to jump into the water, a more graceful animal has never existed. 

and i think there is something to be learned from that--i'll let you figure out what i think it is.

not to mention, they mate for life and i find that endlessly romantic. 

ps: when going to the zoo make sure to catch the sea lion feeding. the best part is just before the show begins and the sea lions know that at any moment their trainers will arrive with plentiful goodies--so they start to look for them and turn around in around in hopes that the goodies might arrive just a wee bit sooner.

diana f+. revisited.

the sky has opened and time has befriended me. 

translation: with my nanny-family moving to france and a slight shift in schedule at my second job i have suddenly found myself with time. ample time. so ample that last night i had a five hour play-date. and today i have committed myself to my new friend, diana. 

today diana and i are heading to 420 9th avenue where we will attempt to outfit her with the correct film. diana and i are on tenuous terms as i did not buy the correct film the first go round. 

and because i've almost broken her. 

five times. 

thank you all for the lovely comments with suggestions regarding this new friend of mine. unfortunately, most of them flew about five feet above where my butt is firmly planted to the stool. translation: over my head. 

so once i get to the camera store and get some nice man/woman to help me, i will review the comments and see if they land a little better. 

but until then...

happy shooting (of film, of course) and happy monday!

yes i do.

"i've got a perfect body, but sometimes i forget"

oh regina, of course.

thanks for the reminder.

ps: your new album is

beyond brilliant.

image via ffffound

clare and henry, revisited.

i am the first to tell you that i usually loathe the movies based off of my favorite books. 

and i do not cry easily.

but this trailer made me cry. 

and i, who has never swooned over eric bana, think that yes, mr. eric bana will be the perfect henry.

so i'm a once-a-week-nanny...

but my lovelies are moving to paris on saturday.

yup, paris.

tomorrow is our last day to play.

oh man, i'm gonna miss them.

diana f+

in preparation for my 10 day sojourn to sydney (in august--still plenty of time, you'll be hearing about it for a while, prepare yourself), i have purchased two things:

1. a set black tights from H&M (it will be winter there and my standard winter uniform is black tights and boots)

2. a Diana F+ camera. but i am overwhelmed by the instruction manual. and paralyzed with fear.

i finagled my way out of work today. and this unexpected day off has left me with a whole day's worth of time. and i don't know what to do. really and truly...i am sitting in my apartment just trying to breathe.

this can't be good.

the egg-carry.

field day circa 1995

so you want to know what i remember about my childhood?

everything.

we lived in a house. that we built ourselves. with the name fee scratched in cement on the upper-right-hand corner of the driveway. 

it was on a half-acre-lot covered in bermuda grass with no back fence. just barbed-wire and a pasture that stretched to the other end of paradise. every once in a while there were horses. and always there were cardinals nesting in the trees. 

our neighborhood consisted of only two streets and a series of water ponds and canals. 

i walked to school. down three houses. past the pond. up some stone steps. and through the gate. into the school yard i traipsed with a story on my lips and my mom at my side.

i played softball. and soccer. and did day camps and college for kids. there were play dates and pool parties and gymnastics and a children's theatre downtown.

odyssey of the mind? my dad coached the team.

my parents let me pick my pre-school. i went to the one that had the rocket-ship slide. and safari murals painted on the walls. 

and i went to public school. and i really don't know how i got so lucky, but it was as all public schools should be.

we sewed dinosaur pillows and had "live" wax museums. i was marie curie.

we hatched chickens and learned to hula dance. 

and of course...there was field day. and this was not just any field day. this was field day as it should only be done.

a full day affair. with painted-class-t-shirts. and yummy treats. and hoola hoops and balloon tosses. and races. short races. long races. it was a day in which childhood itself blossomed. 

and do you know what else i remember?

the egg-cary race. you know, the race where you balance the egg on the spoon and walk from one point to the next. passing it to a friend, who you are sure cannot do it as well as you?

that's what i remember--being sure, as i watched my friends precariously balance the eggs, that that egg was only safe in my hands. 

back and forth. back and forth i watched it go. and i watched my friends watching. watching the egg traverse the lawn. and i realized. i realized, they too thought the egg was safe only in their hands. even as i carried the egg, they too doubted. just as i doubted. and it became clear.

the egg was just as safe in their hands. and it was perfectly safe in mine. but we can't know what it feels like to be someone else carrying the egg. we can only know what it feels like when we ourselves have hold of it. 

this life of ours, well, it's our egg. and we're each responsible for our own. and those around us, watching us (parents, friends, and the like), sometimes (actually, often) they want to pick up our egg and carry it for us. because they think they can do it better. but they don't know the egg as we do. they don't know the soft spots and uneven surfaces. they don't know it's tendency to roll to the left, or wobble just before some version of a finish line. they have to trust us. and we have to trust them. and okay, sometimes it's best to let them hold our egg. or move it a few paces ahead. but at the end of the day we are the egg-keepers. all of us. lords of our own eggs. 

and it's never safer than when we grab hold of it (gently) and feel for the soft spot and note the flat surface and walk confidently into the future based on nothing more than what we're feeling. 

the first of the cousins is getting married!

and he could not have picked a better addition for our family.

Sarah, we're so happy to have you. 

Well done on getting her to say yes, Sean!

because sometimes when you can't afford the real thing...

...and no longer know what money is (except for your astronomical rent)...you buy a $10 set of vespa magnets and call it a day. a very, very good day.

i'm back!

writer's block.

i don't like a man in a white belt. 

oh, come one. you know what i'm talking about. 

there is a very specific man (or should i say...young gentleman) that wears a belt of white...cloth, is it? think hard. dig into the annals (or animals) of your memory. you know what i am talking about. 

.................................................................................

on some days people can only reasonably be held accountable for two things. getting out of bed. and showering. i have yet to do the latter. 

oh, and i do need to go the bank.

but i'm washing my black suit. that should count for something? yes, yes, ladies...i'm practically a businesswoman, i wear a suit to work. unfortunately, it's the same suit. everyday. and if they had any idea how often it it taken to the dry cleaners, or put in at the local laundromat...hmmm...hmm.mmmm.mm.

............................................................................

i'm starting to think all potential boyfriends, lovers, people-i-care-to-call-my-friend should be pre-screened. i sit behind a closed circuit television, watching, as they interact in a restaurant setting.

husband-to-be,

i know you'll pass with flying colors, but just so you feel prepared here's the cliff notes:

1. semantics are important. these chips are stale is very different from, would it be possible to get a new bowl of chips, these seem a little stale.

2. when someone addresses you, acknowledge that. servers, hosts, busboys and the lot are not just part of the furniture, or props as you play out your meal. 

3. don't be a jerk. most people feel okay to do this in a restaurant. it's like all normal, civilized behavior goes out the window...don't fall into this trap.

love you lots, 

wifey-who-hates-being-treated-poorly-for-no-reason-at-all

................................................................................

i'm thinking of buying a foldable bike.

................................................................................

i'm thinking this writer's block is a holdover of mercury in retrograde. look it up. 

and so i've abandoned this blogspot lover of mine. even had a few fights with him. and i've stopped responding to you're unbelievably kind comments or commenting on you're unbelievably exciting blogs. but i'm coming round. i hope. rousing from this slumber.

thanks for not giving up on me.

............................................................................

off to shower.

............................................................................

photo by Henry Clarke

breakfast of champions?

feasting on fear of the unknown for breakfast this morning.

a little tart for my taste.

perhaps, tomorrow, a little less fear and a dash of excitement to replace it.

a trip to the store.

i remember being little. i remember my brother and i visiting a friend's house. it was early. very early. and we were little. very little. and this friend had a son. an older son. an older son who was still asleep. my brother and i could not understand this. how could someone sleep when there was a day to be had? our friend explained that one day we too would like to sleep in. 

i remember standing there. 

and hearing that. 

and being unable to believe it.

i remember my next-door neighbor on danbury drive was older. she had a pig as a pet. it would run around her yard. and her house. i don't think my parents much cared for this pig. and i remember my next-door neighbor would take care of me. and teach me things. and tell me things. 

once i asked her what she got for christmas. 

she said, clothes. 

i felt sorry for her. 

now i can never get out of bed. 

or have enough new sweaters under the christmas tree.

i'm not sure when it exactly it happened. when i started finding men in suits really attractive. was it the man? or was it the suit? was it that, in the suit, he reminded me of my father? was it that the suit became the talisman of stability? 

i think it was just recently. 

soon. 

soon ago? no, that doesn't make sense. 

not so long ago. 

it was around the same time that clothes took a backseat to home goods. 

ahhh, home goods. 

today i entered the clothing store. today i looked for beautiful pieces in which to wrap this body i am learning to love. and today i abandoned all skirts and shirts and sweaters and pinafores for the plaintive call of the home goods. 

wine glasses. 

and bowls. 

and candle sticks and books. 

and bowls. 

and it is there in the store today--in these things, yes, things, that i see my future. these are the things that will traverse the island of manhattan with me. these are the things that i will bring to our first shared apartment. our first shared house. the things that i will pack and unpack. and pack again. and pray remain intact. 

fingering the glassware carefully, checking for cracks or chips i see his face. on one of our many moves he will screw it into a look of consternation meaning only one thing, really, you want to save those? he will hate them. he will hate the candlesticks i will buy today. this only makes me love them the more. 

and in the wine glasses i see the future dinner parties. and the first evening we clumsily make love, our fear numbed only slightly by the wine. yes, these are the wine glasses--the co-conspirators in our mutual seduction. i see the moment when the four glasses become three become two become one become gone. shattered one night after dinner. slipping through our child's growing fingers. 

i don't know the moment i began to plan for the future. when men in a tailored suits and glass platters became more important than gladiator sandals or a young would-be-actor boyfriend. 

perhaps this is the precursor to the inevitable tick-tick-tick of that biological clock. 

all i know is... that i'm looking forward to making the memories that will give this dowry a value that knows no numbers. 

but...

4 wine glasses 

4 glass cups

2 candlesticks

all for under $52

(including tax)

from Anthropologie

a dowry indeed

rain, rain, come and play...

there's a slight, steady rain here in new york today.

which means i'm destined for a walk through central park.

where, for just a moment, i'll allow myself the luxury of pretending it's the villa borghese in rome.

but for now i'm in bed.

listening to an ever so slight pitter-patter. lost in a book. and dreaming of an unknown future.

this photo is from 

a trip to rome in 2005

with my mom and dad.

my mom and i pictured outside

the villa borghese gallery.

why australia? 3 reasons...

3. rexona deodorant

2. mimco purses

1 to clebrate with one friend and visit with another

so, why not?

what nie has done for me.

when on that fateful day i clicked the "create blog" button i had no idea what i was getting myself into.

my parents were so opposed to the whole thing. 

so i dragged my feet. occasionally posting (posting, what is posting?) a quote or an old picture, but nothing more. 

i was testing the line. the line between what other's told me was right or acceptable  and what i thought i might just enjoy. 

and then there was this article. in the new york times (go figure). and it was about this woman. a mother. a wife. a blogger. who had been in a plane crash. who's sister had taken up her cause. and around which the entire blogging community (community, what?) was rallying.

and i thought. my God. i want to be a part of that. 

i remember reading somewhere--probably a cup of jo (yeah, yeah, go figure) about what blogging does for a person a year in. and let's put all our cards on the table--blogging is not for everyone. a lot of people love reading them, hate making them. and i get it. i do. but i happen to love it. 

and i'm nearing that first year mark (about two months out, really) and what comes to mind is...

well, so i visited a life coach the spring break of my second year, when it became abundantly clear that things were not going so well. and i remember her asking me to make a love list (something that oprah has now made famous as only oprah can). the idea being that you list things you think are important in a mate. and from there you can break them down into categories: deal breakers, icing on the cake, and so on. and by giving a name to these things, by recognizing them, you begin to attract them into your life. 

so i made the list. 

will stay up all night and play video games with me (this was once done and let me just say, the guy won mad points for it).

can keep up with me when we ski. or maybe even, dare is say it, go faster? ha, not likely.

plays a mean game of foosball. or air hockey. 

adventurous.

likes to travel.

willing to make a fool of himself on the dance floor.

many of the qualities i sought were things that would balance me out. i needed him to be more socially adept to make up for my lack of prowess in mingling situations, louder to balance out my until-you-really-get-to-know-me soft spoken tone.

but what i realized was that in listing the qualities i hoped to find in my partner, i was giving a name to those things i loved about myself. my God, i loved something about myself?

yeah. 

yeah, i love that i want adventure. and that i can play a mean game of pick-up baseball. i love that with enough encouragement i'll dance at a wedding like no one is watching. and yes, i can ski. well. quite well (got my mom's genes on that one). i love that i laugh loudly and openly and get giddy and even that i cry at the most inopportune times. 

and so the thing is...that's in many ways what this blog is. it is my list. it is me giving a name to those things about myself, about my life which (and oh how taboo i once thought this was) i love. 

and that list, this blog is bringing me back from the edge. it's revealing me to myself. slowly, each day. 

i was so humbled by nie's recent post. 

Mother came with me instead. We talked about angels, family, children's names, hope, and other things Mom's and daughters talk about including how I hurt when I wake up in the morning. Cindy (my mum) asked me when I was going to post a picture of me on the blog.

things Mom's and daughters talk about...(my mum) asked me when I was going to post a picture of me on the blog.

i read that. and it was so simple. and i'm quite sure my mom asked me the same question about a week ago. though she said something along the lines of, so when are you going to stop hiding behind goofy faces and cropped shots and post an actual picture of yourself on the blog?

and there it was. 

now let me be as clear as words will allow...i cannot even begin to understand what stephanie is going through and i am only equating my situation with her's on the most primal of levels. the level of a love between a mother and daughter and also what it feels like to not feel at home in your body.  what i mean to say is...here is this woman that i have never met, who lives across the country, and comes from a world so different than my own, who has suffered something that goes beyond trauma, something that i cannot (and God help me, never will be able to) imagine. and  some eensy-teensy, infinitesimal part of me understands what she might feel when she looks in the mirror. because in the wide spectrum of human experience there is a set gammut of human emotion. our emotions, though felt to different degrees and in different ways, connect us. and isn't there comfort to be found in that? and comfort to be found in the fact that moms and daughters talk about the same things?

i have looked in the mirror and failed to see myself. i have literally been shocked by the image. and yet i know it is me. i have mourned for life. i have mourned for a part of myself usurped by something that while i can try to give a name to it, will always be so much bigger than anything language can give breath to. chekhov got it right when he had masha say, I am in mourning for my life. but chekhov was a comedian. and i daresay he believed in life. and the little things (which really are the big things, aren't they?) that blogs tend to celebrate.

I had a simple glimpse of me coming back. I get to create a new "me" whatever that entails. It hasn't been easy having to reinvent myself. I have (and still do) mourn for Stephanie. Where did she go? Now I look in the mirror and see someone else, but it's still me. It's...well...weird. I have to learn to be me again. I have to accept and hope. And I should stop saying "should" and replace that with "get". I GET to have a second chance at life. I get to enjoy my children even if my fingers don't work. I get to change the way I look at life and how I can somehow help someone else in need.

i'm coming back too. i didn't even know i was gone. but i'm coming back. and i look at myself in the mirror. i look at this body that i've loathed for so long, this body that has felt alien, this body that i thought was suffocating me, and i'm learning to love it. to love me. ned was the enemy, but my body... well, my body never was. and the thing was, i thought it was the other way round. i put ned on the pedestal--built him a shrine, and berated my body, every chance i got. but my body never failed me. my body took it. and insulated me. and loved me. and waited patiently for the day when i would come back. 

nie posted a picture of her eyes. 

the courage. 

it bewilders me. 

leaves me without words. 

i thought, okay, me too...what can i do that will display a fraction of the courage she conveyed in that so-not-simple action of revealing her eyes? and i thought, i'll post a full length shot...no problem. 

but i can't. i'm not ready. not quite. but i will be nie, soon. i will learn to, as you say, accept and hope. and love. and give thanks. to this body. to an infinite, all-knowing power. to my mum for asking the simple questions. and to you. you for your unimaginable courage and example. you who already helped someone in need. you, who i have a sneaking suspicion has helped countless just like me.

so thank you. truly, that's all i know to say...thank you. 

just to make you jealous...

i'm going to australia.

for two weeks. in august.

i can't wait. 

adventure, here i come!

for today. and tomorrow.

courage does not always roar.

sometimes courage is the quiet voice

at the end of the day saying,

"i will try again tomorrow"

(mary ann radmacher)

image via ffffound

fat talk

so i have this thing. i call it ned. ned is the acronym (and euphemism) for my nasty little eating disorder. 

i don't always want to talk about ned. because there is more to me than this thing.

but...

it is important to talk about.

and in my quest to slay the dragon (ned) i've come across some things i'd like to share.

1. any-body.org:

a website giving women a voice to challenge the limited physical representation of females in contemporary society

and on this said website i found...

2. the following video which probes into the idea of "fat talk"; to be honest when i first saw it i thought something along the lines of oh, how silly. 

but it's stuck with me. 

and it's made me think before i open my mouth. 

and i'm getting better and making ned into a nothing of a man (or dragon) and this has played a part... so if you have a minute (or three)...

i was asleep for exactly 45 minutes tonight before i was awoken by the lightening storm.

if i was little i'd be in my parents bed by now.

it's overhead. so close. and i'd be terrified to be caught in this.

but i'm tickled to no end to be in bed and enjoying it.

suddenly new york feels tiny. 

to believe.

i want to believe that the sidewalk curb won't always feel like the edge of a cliff

i want to believe that adventure can begin in an instant

and that you can fall in love in the course of an evening

i want to believe that as we age our faces more aptly reflect the caliber of our kindness

and that it was love. even if i was alone in feeling it.

that out of all this sadness and destruction. out of all of this world turmoil, good will arise. 

i want to believe all this (whatever this is) is worth it

oh how i want to believe...

photo via {this is glamorous}

for you.

It occurs to me that you all so generously offered up book suggestions and I never gave you anything in return.

This morning I "attempted" to update the Book Club section of the blog. I added all the books suggested in the comments of that post. However, the suggestions scattered throughout comments of different posts have yet to be added...fret not, they will be!

However, here, I will "attempt" (not sure why I'm using quotes, but I am) to offer up my own suggestions.

First, I adore Pat Conroy. I was introduced to his works going into my sophmore year of high-school. I had never, ever come across so many i-need-a-dictionary words all at once. But after fifteen pages of struggling to take it all in, I fell. I fell madly and deeply and desperately in love with his words. 

The Lords of Discipline

and

Beach Music

It doesn't matter which you read first. They are both his. I've read each upwards of three times. And I think I'm due for another run of Beach Music, very soon. 

Others will say Prince of Tides is his best. I would disagree. The two books I listed above are perhaps my favorites of all time.

Though, Jonathan Safran Foer's Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close just gave them a damn-fine run for their money. I'll have a review of this coming soon. This book is the most genius thing I've ever read. Period. Hands down. It may now share the stage with the above two as my favorite.

Another that keeps coming to mind is Anita Shreve's Light on Snow. It's an easy, fast read and undeniably lovely and moving. 

And finally, two books I've written about before, but must, must suggest again: The Time Traveler's Wife and Dancing on Thorns. 

As for books of poetry: The Forgiveness Parade and The Splinter Factory, both by Jeffrey McDaniel. 

There you have it. 

If you read any of these (or have read) you must let me know what you think.

photo via visualize.us

saturday's thought

I must learn to love the fool in me--the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries. It alone protects me against that utterly self-controlled, masterful tyrant whom I also harbor and who would rob me of human aliveness, humility, and dignity but for my fool.

Theodore I. Rubin, MD

thanks to Jeneec from my home state of Texas for this!

Life photo via ffffound

happy birthday dad

Today is my father's birthday. It's a big one.

I don't know if he'd want me to say, which one.

Oh hell...he's turning 60. 

And I think that's pretty amazing.

Because the truth is...my dad is my dad. 

And I love him so much. And I love him even when the words don't come easy.

"His hair turned gray that winter. I thought it was snow.  He promised us that everything would be OK. I was a child, but I knew that everything would not be OK.  That did not make my father a liar.  It made him my father."

"Gerald smiled at me in the rearview mirror and asked if we wanted any music. I asked him if he had any kids. He said he had two daughters...'Are they both special?' He cracked up and said, 'Of course their pop is gonna say they're special.' 'But objectively.' 'What's that?' 'Like, factually. Truthfully.' 'The truth is I'm their pop.'

from extremely loud and incredibly close

party, party

Last night a few things happened. And this is how I know I'm growing and getting better.

1. I went to a party because I said I would. Even though it was late. And I was tired. Even though it would have been easier to stay home. But I think it's important to live up to your word. 

2. A guy there told me and my absolutely gorgeous friend, how lovely it is to see girls who look healthy. Ned tried to interpret this word as fat. I told Ned he was wrong. And so I actually took the complement as just that, a complement. 

And while I do really like my friends (most of whom are actors), when the conversation turned to exercise fads and nutrition plans after only twenty minutes, I quietly excused myself and walked to the kitchen to join a different conversation. And I was reminded why exactly I took a year to make health my priority.

I'm winning the war my friends. I am.

Not sure who Ned is? Check my sidebar.

Happy Hunting!

photo via LIFE

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this is just to say...

I'm feeling impossibly happy today.

Of course. "Life is impossible." Of course. But how lucky we are to get a crack at it.

I'm drinking chocolate milk out of the mug my father gave me for my birthday that reads, 

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you've imagined. -Thoreau

And I'm eating Cool Whip out of my hand. 

And I'm so impossibly thankful to know you all. 

of course.

"Why do you think you're here, Oskar?""I'm here, Dr. Fein, because it upsets my mom that I'm having an impossible time with my life." "Should it upset her?" "Not really. Life is impossible." 

Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

by Jonathan Safran Foer

i've never read anything more heartbreaking and funny and beautiful all at once. in fact, i think it may just be the most genius thing i've ever read. 

ever. 

book club updates coming soon...

sometimes...

sometimes...my past seems more inviting than my future. because it’s known. what i wouldn’t give to be the eight year old who survived on boxcar children and goldfish, who built forts and gave tea parties, who believed in kissing her bears goodbye each morning. sometimes i wonder if I took a misstep somewhere. and if with that misstep I’m failing my eight-year-old self. i wonder if there’s any going back. 

but then, sometimes...i have brief, fleeting moments of clarity. And I know. i know that the best is yet to come. that my days of forts and tea parties are not over. that love, as i know it, is only the beginning. and that there are no missteps, no wrong turns. that every good day, every bad, every right decision, every wrong, will lead me to exactly where i’m meant to be.

photos via ffffound

and visualize.us

june 1

oh dear God, how did it get to be June already?

help me.

this means i've officially been out of school for more than a year. 

a year.

perhaps a lovely vintage suit or large-rimmed hat will help me through this difficult time.

photos by Henry Clarke.

aren't they fantastic?

today, on this, my day off...

i slept into an unbelievably late hour

caught up on the season finale of the hills (oh brother)

am crooning ingrid michaelson tunes at the top of my voice 

have got sweet potato chips baking in the oven (homemade of course)

and...wait for it...am heading to the mainland this afternoon. NEW JERSEY of course! as much as it gets a bad rap, there are parts of the state that can rival any area of this country for sheer beauty. and it's home to one of my favorite places on earth, my aunt and uncle's house. this means family time. and much needed respite for the soul.

ps: i had time to call for that haircut. 

Happy Monday!