observations of current blessings


homemade strawberry jam


moon cycles

kahlil gibran

thunderstorms. hail so loud it made it into my dream. that was trippy.


irish honey whiskey


whiny cat

nurtured houseplants

sleeping baby brother

shakespeare in the park

being dirty. yes, i crave it. how is one supposed to get clean when one never gets properly dirty?

sexy strawberry jam recipe


it's a green, green, green july!

The unlikeliest of storm systems has stomped through our city over the past couple of days in a giant way. The effects include an all-around darker feel, ominous, mysterious. Hocus-pocus July drenchings, what? But I'll take it. RAIN.

The best effect by far is the blindingly green grass, trees, foliage of any and every kind. Guys, THIS NEVER HAPPENS. By this time we're brown and bitter and burnt and begging to be let free of the vicious heat that's humid but leaves no trace of being so - the earth has cracked, chapped lips, and isn't up for any kissing of any kind. But this July...this sweet, supple, verdant July is rife with life.



I think of this lush greenness in terms of an optical illusion: When you put a kelly green plate on a dark surface, it appears brighter than when you put the same kelly green plate onto a light-colored surface. With all of these clouds hanging around and darkening the sidewalks and the skies, the greens are just beaming.

Not to mention the fantastic rainbow and pink skies on top of all the sultry, steamy days and nights.


muscle awareness and the journey we're on

Tonight was about yoga. I've been daydreaming about it a lot lately, especially about doing it in exotic locales, or just somewhere devoid of human tampering. But since I haven't got the basics quite down yet, it seems better to practice in my studio apartment where I can quickly pull up a tutorial on which muscles to call on for the pigeon pose. (I keep waffling between extended leg support and folded leg support...still unsure.)

Regarding yoga, involves a good deal of breathing. And breathing steadily and deeply. That is much different from performing an exercise motion or pose for a set number of seconds or minutes. Instead of gritting your teeth and trying not to feel anything until the set time is up, you’re required and encouraged to feel everything happening to your body, in the moment in which it happens. You breathe the moments. Yoga makes you aware.

Beatrix tried to do the cobra, but she ended up more interested in chewing on my ankles. Not helpful.

About living in the moment… I have found that I spend a lot of time strategizing how not to waste my life. A lot of time. Honestly, so much time has been wasted trying not to waste time. It would be such a tragedy to let months, years, decades escape you while you’re spending your life on…whatever it is. Wasteful stuff, you know. Things that might not end up helping you toward your life goals…which are what, again?

Rush, hurry, skittering and scurrying about, trying to figure things out. Where does it lead? To another day, just as it always has and always will. We are in July of 2013. I left my first job, of four years, in October of 2010. In three months, it’ll have been three years since then. In exactly three months, it’ll have been exactly. three. years

I think I might understand now, a little bit, of how to look at life purpose. Everything I do is what I am supposed to do. The only way I can waste my life is to spend it entirely inside my head...to not be there, IN LIFE, when it happens. Give yourself to the universe and watch her spin her magic.

"The journey is the destination."

On a side note: I also made a blackberry plum chambord galette tonight. It is rustic and has character. 


verdure everyday

Some of this resplendence I have the privilege of glorying in every day. The rest I see every other day. Look at the sheen on those hibiscus leaves! And those fluorescent petunias - they may as well be radioactive. The view from the top picture is my favorite. Tree canopy.

En route from the terminal to the office this morning, I found some over-sized purple-headed clover buds, growing substantially taller than clover buds usually grow. The little rebels had sprouted where they weren't welcome, and I knew it was only a matter of time before the museum gardener decided that they were weeds and would uproot and toss the little friends away to be crushed and forgotten. Armed with this understanding, I rescued them and gave them a place at my desk. I'm sure it's boring, watching me type and hang up on robot telephone advertisements, but it's got to be better than being crushed and forgotten, right?

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