Tuesday, September 3, 2013
She knows me pretty well.
Wisconsin in the summertime is a long lost friend. We spend time apart. We lose track of each other's daily lives. We drift. But we always find our way back to each other every August and nothing feels out of place.
As we drove through the familiar farmland of my home state, my friend and I stopped at an sunflower field at the edge of town I had never known existed. I suddenly felt like a tourist as we walked the foot path and the sunflowers towered above us.
That feeling didn't go away when my parents and I made the long drive back to my hometown. I suddenly wanted to revisit everything as if it were new.
It turns out, you can be a tourist just about anywhere.
So that's what I want to do. I want to blog again, this time as a tourist. I want to appreciate the ordinary and not take it for granted. I want to view things without judgment or critique, the way a good tourist does. This blog was intended to be about finding joy and my favorite entries were usually about the joy I found in things right under my nose. It's been hard lately to find gratitude, but I'm looking for it. With new eyes.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
It shouldn't come as any surprise that when a blog about joy doesn't get updated for two months, friends start to question the writer if she has a case of the blues. Then again, when things get very joyful, blog writing tends to fall to the wayside. I'm happy to say that the latter is the explanation for the quiet around here. Here's to an honest attempt to make more noise!
Starting with this picture of a fluffy puppy.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
My favorite place in the apartment is a small corner in the bedroom dedicated to my love for all things musical. Most weekends include at least a little time sitting in front of the record player - albums I've pillaged from my parents over the years and ones I've collected from friends and garage sales are piled up in a heap underneath. The album selections range from credible (The Velvet Underground) to ridiculous (The Electric Prunes) and everything in between. Mostly, my record player belts out a steady stream of folksy Paul Simon or James Taylor. The crackling hiss of the album makes John Denver stop sounding like some Colorado-lovin' dweeb and turns him into something of a poet.
Sometimes, I spend time in the corner with Betty, my poor excuse for an acoustic. Those critters on the right? Meet my audience. I much prefer Kermit the Frog and Pokey to humans with refined musical palettes. If I played for a real audience, they would quickly spot my shoddy guitar skills or tendency to play songs primarily in the key of G. I don't need the pressure.
I'm sure they're out there, but I don't know many people who don't get at least some joy from music. For me, it's an infinite source of joy so it's nice to have a spot in my apartment reserved just for that. Maybe one day my living space will surpass 500 square feet and I'll have room to spread out my musical joy - but for now, a corner will do.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Sunday, November 7, 2010
|Sometimes I cheat and go to Quack's instead.|
pumpkin curry soup
pumpkin pie parfait
pumpkin chocolate chip muffins
Next up... pumpkin cookies with salted caramel glaze. Homemade pumpkin spice latte. Pumpkin pie custard. Pumpkin pie gelatin mold collaboration with The Modern Gelatina.
I'll be the first to admit this is starting to get a bit out of hand...