one hundred. seventy three.

Theme of the day:
Distracted.


I am obsessed with/distracted by Fast Typer.
I am distracted by my dog playing in the snow [hilarious].
I am distracted by waffles with almond butter.
I am distracted by you.
I am distracted by Pandora.
I am distracted by thoughts. I literally sit and zone out on an object across the room, thinking, then come to about 5 minutes later.
I am distracted by my sister.
I am distracted by constant weather checks to see how much snow we're going to get.
I am distracted by my uneven finger nails.
I am distracted by dictionary.com.


20 pages into U.S. Government reading and I can't go on. I am just too removed.
Lets go out & play instead.

one hundred. seventy two.

A little bit of Bright Eyes today.

[& the world's got me dizzy again

You think after 22 years I'd be used to the spin

& it only feels worse when I stay in one place

So I'm always pacing around or walking away.] 

I'm on a bit of a kick. i always like bright eyes better at night. I think it's because the first time I heard Bright Eyes was at Ayla's house, and she would play them to fall asleep to.

[I took off my shoes & walked into the woods. I felt lost & found with every step I took.]

I had a gift certificate to Mario Tricoci's so today I redeemed it with a hair cut. 
This place was a little intimidating.
They gave me a robe when I walked in. 
When I walked back I asked my hair lady what to do with it.
"...You could put it on, if you wanted."
Right. That would make sense. 
Or none, at all, to put on a black robe just for a hair cut.
But I did, anyhow. Live it up. 
This place was weird, though. I don't know if I could do it again. The girls who weren't cutting hair were standing in front of mirrors cutting their own hair, just teeny bits here and there.
snip snip. fluff fluff fluff. curl small portion. snip. fluff fluff. hairspray. snip. 
stare at self in mirror.
repeat.
I was a little glad to leave. 
[however, now my hair smells especially nice.]


I liked these little bits:
"...But it was all a bunch of hot air - nothing but their own opinions. Empty ritual. Their robes were costumes, and their temple was an empty shell. This story scares me because it shows that it's possible for a whole generation to go happily about the business of their religion, all the while having lost a true knowledge of God.
Knowledge doesn't have to be dull & lifeless. And when you think about it, exactly what is our alternative? Ignorance? Falsehood?
We're either building our lives on the reality of what God is truly like and what He's about, or we're basing our lives on our own imagination & misconceptions. 
We're all theologians. The question is whether what we know about God is true." [Joshua Harris]

one hundred. seventy one.

So much food in my stomach right now.
Went out with pappy. Got some pasta dish which came with breadsticks.
Also had a beer.
Also had 3 oreos when I got home.
[Yes, they were Double Stuf.]
Disgusting. I am disgusting and also huge.

You know what I've been thinking about?
I've been thinking about how I want to live a life worth writing about. I don't know if that goal is shallow or a bit ridiculous, but it's true. I want to live a life that I want to put down on paper. Not necessarily something that someone would pick up and read, but something worth spending some pen and paper on, some time scratching it out.
You know? Something interesting, or simple, or innovative. Something new or rediscovered.
Example: not worth writing about - Today I worked then got home and watched TV. Then I heated up some leftovers, belched, let the dog out, let the dog in, went to bed.
[That was not actually my day. I had breadsticks instead of leftovers, and I moved a massive bed which involved me using power tools. Totally handled it like a rockstar.]

Involved in this goal - as I was thinking on it - was that I would love to eat FOOD worth writing about.
Bad food example: 3 double stuf Oreos.
Good food example: Food that I had a real hand in, whether growing, or purchasing from someone who had a real relationship to the food, or just making something with my hands.
I think that would be really neat.
Have I been watching too much of Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution and Food Inc. and such?
Yes.
Yes I have.
Still. This resolution stands.

one hundred. seventy.

More Matthew and the Atlas.
I'm digging I Will Remain and Within the Rose.
I have so much new music too, more than I know what to do with. So I'm slowly making my way through it, then jumping back to Within the Rose and reveling in its sweet huskiness.
It's like sitting in a log cabin built 200 years ago, with chinks between the logs and sunlight streaming through.
Literally.
Listen to the song. That's it.

I started school up again.
My U.S. Government teacher is hilarious.
He looks like he always about to beat you up.
He's about 15 feet tall and a hefty man.
Not large, just...big.
For instance, he needs to keep his arms out to his sides so that his biceps don't rub against his ribcage area.
He also constantly pushes his sleeves up over his elbows
which is what they always do before they fight
in the movies.
Real tough guy.
Probably because he spent 20 years in various war zones.
Anyhow, so he appears to know what he's talking about.
I like him because he thinks politics is a lot of poop
and wants us to learn to think for ourselves.
At least, that what he tells us...

This weekend has been quite the whirlwind, in a good way.
& it's not even over.
& i'm still spinning a bit too much to have good clarity or good words, even.
So. I'll leave off there.

one hundred. sixty nine.

I'll admit it.
I'm a bit of a sucker for romance, at times.
There were tears in my eyes at the end of "The Young Victoria."
My heart might leap at sweet songs.
So I can't help but come near to bursting when a romance blooms right in front of me at the coffee shop. These two lovely single parents have both been dropping by separately for ages.
She gets the large caramel vanilla cappuccino.
He gets the medium iced mocha.
They'd seen each other in passing.
Their kids went to the same day care.
Then one day, their paths crossed in the shop.
I spied from behind the counter as they chatted.
Then:
Him | "Why don't you let me take you out for coffee?"
Her | "Sure!"
The next day he comes in early and buys both coffees.
[Good man.]
They sit and talk.
Bright Eyes enters and begins to play "The First Day of My Life" quietly in the corner.
[Ok, not really, but in my head, yes. Listen to it if you don't know it.]
She leaves & he comes over and tells us that he likes her and just hopes that she falls for his boyish charm.
We tell him that we're rooting for him.
Weeks pass.
They come in often and drink coffee together.
Seriously, these are gag-me adorable moments
The sly grin from him as he makes a dorky joke.
The shy smile and downcast eyes from her.
The lingering as they walk out to the cars.
The walk away, still talking.
The walk back so they can finish their conversation.
The walk away, still smiling.
He walks back and movie moment, all out kisses the crap out of her.
The shy smile and downcast eyes from her.
The collective "awe" from....well, me, creeping from inside.
Bright Eyes finishes their song.

one hundred. sixty eight.

so. i'm cracking pistachios with a vigor heretofore unknown.
also, here is my new project:

My entire house will be full of
delightful little
vintage
suitcase chairs.
Please come over!





I like Matthew and the Atlas.
I think.
I always take a while to make up my mind about new music.

My Dad has this funny thing about our garage key.
He always takes it with him.
Eventually, someone needs to get into the garage for snow shovel/sled/lawn mower/random tool.
We search high & low on the key rack.
No key.
We call my Dad.
"Oh yeah, I have it with me."
"Dad...we need to get in the garage."
"Shoot. I keep meaning to make some extra keys."
That is his answer. Leaving the garage key at home is not an option.
He'll probably need it. Sometime.
At work.
When he's 40 miles from the garage.
Oh Pappy.

This week was an interesting one.
By interesting I mostly mean awkward with a few other things thrown in.
Things like bittersweet & uncomfortable & music.
Also - nice.
But like I said: mostly awkward.

To round off --
[I'm finally feeling something like free.]

one hundred. sixty seven.

Curled up on the couch in my flannel pajama pants with an over-sized cardigan.
Reading, writing & listening to James Taylor spinning on our record player.
What lovely, simple things.

My list has been growing so that now it's half bucket list, half list of plans/decisions.
I should probably separate them.

Our house has been quite full recently with Amanda, Nora & Lizzie all visiting at different times this last week. A bit of a whirlwind, but in a good way.
School begins a week from tomorrow so the whirlwind really just continues.
But in a good way.
Truly, so much to learn.

one hundred. sixty six.

A customer from work told me to make a list of 20 things I want to do. Just jot them down without too much thinking & analyzing. I'm doing it. It's helpful. Sometimes I feel a bit like I'm wandering - not stagnant, my footing just isn't too sure. If I write things down it helps. I'm a list person, I like to look at words on a page.


Went snowboarding for the first time 2 days ago.
Yesterday my arms were a bit sore.
Today everything is a bit sore. Heading down the city in just a few hours, so it couldn't be a better day to have trouble walking down the stairs.
I'm not a particularly fearless person, so snowboarding for me consisted mostly of braking my way down big hills and running into the lift. Literally. Colliding with the lift.
It was still thrilling.

Our cat, Gilbert, killed a mouse sometime last week. He found it zipping around the kitchen & somehow caught it, though he is a sissy with no claws.
He paraded it in front of us when we were all sitting in the living room watching a movie.
Now he has taken to lurking around the kitchen all the time, darting about like mad. No more mice, but it seems like Gil has found some profound purpose and now will let no mouse escape his savage, claw-less paws.

Also, I just don't understand people who are obsessed with sports. It makes no sense. I hear these two customers at work talking about football like EVERYTHING depends on this quarterback or that team or who knows what.
I capitalized EVERYTHING and that still doesn't feel like it encompasses the EVERYTHING that it is.
You know - happiness, faith, what they name their dog, their child, where they live, etc...

one hundred. sixty five.

Goodness, that last post was so long.

Here's a short one:

I'm looking forward to 2011, to this clean slate.

There is very little that is sure, but in the unknowing there is a certain calm. .

And there’s a hand my trusty friend !

And give us a hand o’ thine !
And we’ll take a right good-will draught,
for auld lang syne.

[We tried to sing that last night, but didn't really know the words. Blast.] 

Anyhow, hope your ringing in was quite memorable, as mine was fairly mellow. Sparkling apple juice with friends and all that. In my flannel pajama pants by 9:00. 

I read my Oswald Chambers last entry of the year and felt quite drawn to his ending line:

"Leave the Irreparable Past in His hand, and step out into the Irresistible Future with Him." 

So, Happy New Year!