soft things

                thick, short grass

                                                      cats
          cafe au lait
                                       
                                 quiet, late-night phone call voices
 
the smell of baking bread
 
                                                              silvery-blue
                  knitted hats
                       
                                                       moonlight through the window

                                       shade trees
        dandelions
                                             Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata

                    hand-holding
     
           

nine things

• cherry blossoms
• daffodil fields
• frosty roofs
• milkshakes for lunch
• full moon
• Jimmy Fallon
• borrowed CDs from nice boys
• waiting
• waiting
• waiting

words I like

blue
                       whisper
               

           always

                    starry
                                          crush
                       
                         bulletproof
            mint

                           
                             you
                                 
       

 

seven things

Things I like:


Mushrooms.

Sad punk music.

The way onions smell cooking on the stove; the way they whistle at you to remind you to stir them.

Library books.

People who carry pocketknives. 

Lemon zest.

People who say "I love you" first.

a biscuit dream

Come over and make biscuits with me. Knead them, let them rise. Brush my arm with your floury fingers. (I don't want to go out, but I don't want to be alone.) Let the yeast grow. Listen to the music. We can talk about new bands, and our favorite funny movies, and places we still want to go. Let the timer surprise us into laughter. Dough in the oven, and everything smells like heaven. I sit on the counter with my feet swinging. We wait. Biscuits on the counter, steaming, I get out the butter, the honey, the jam. You hold the refrigerator door open for me. Knives. Napkins. Crack them open, watch them steam. Watch the butter slip liquid and golden into the tiny biscuit-hollows.

Friends and biscuits. That's all I want today.

ten things

1. Freckled knees
2. Sister kisses
3. New books
4. New people to talk about books with
5. Pyrotechnics
6. Haircuts
7. Comic books
8. New words
9. Summer storms
10. Watermelon

cats

The nice thing about cats is that sometimes
when you're alone and lonely and sad
they will come up next to you,
gentle and quiet,
and sit down and curl up
into a ball of purring warmth
and press their soft foreheads against your leg.
And they don't say anything,
but they know
and they're there.

an observation

One of the nicest things I can think of is when you find yourself laughing very hard about something, and someone you like tremendously is laughing equally hard with you 

about the same thing. 

six things

1. Grilled Peanut Butter and Banana Sandwiches. 
2. I turned on my car this morning to discover that one of my radio presets is playing Christmas music already. [No! Too soon!]
3. Cheap tea, copiously.
4. Unintentional honesty. Everything I write is too personal for comfort.
5. Good people saying kind things.
6. Sunday Afternoons.

There's a lot I want to say. It's just taking a while to puzzle out the right words.  

It's almost Thanksgiving. I'm glad.

eight things

 Sitting in my 9 AM math class, I notice a faint lipstick print on my coffee mug. I wonder when I became the kind of person who wears lipstick. Who carries a coffee mug.

I've been trying to break a bad habit. I think I've almost succeeded, but only time will tell.

Lots of tests this week. Two papers due. Lots of homework. Work all weekend. I'm three weeks into the school year, and I don't think it's going to get any easier.

My mum brought home licorice tea, and decaf chai and ginger pear green, and they're making my mornings brighter.

The days are getting cooler. It's making me happy.

Yesterday I got three cd's for 75 cents. One of them was the Jonas Brothers.

I fell asleep rereading my favorite book last night, and woke up at 3 am with the light still on and my book on the floor.

And a recent decision has set me adrift.

photo by Jennifer Trovato

8.21.12

a confession (just one thing)

I like the way you say my name. The way you say it before a serious statement, a secret, a revelation. Before questions. After compliments.
I like the way you say it sometimes, and blink, and slowly shake your head, as though you've lost all your words.
I like the way you mock me with it.
My favorite is the way you say my name when we haven't seen each other in a while, and you smile at me, and I smile at you, and it becomes the beginning of a conversation.
There's no subtext, no hidden meaning. But you say it like it means something. Like it's a name worth saying.

(unrelated picture I took and liked :)

la Chandeleur

Because I needed a reason to celebrate, I claimed a holiday. February 2nd, La Chandeleur, Candlemas, a day upon which French people gather up their families and eat crepes by the stack. To keep with the tradition, I broke out my mom's copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking and dedicated my afternoon to celebratory crepe-flipping.


The evening ended with Nutella and Buddy Holly, a pile of damp dishes on the drainboard and satisfaction.

1-15-12

wishes

For happiness, for stickers, for glitter, for love.

Rubber ducks and rainy days. Apple cider. Shooting stars. 

Bonfires, ice cream, cats and 

      books books books books books.

For dogs in the lake, for canoes, for June.

For colored pencils, Christmas lights, my baby sister's laugh. 

Pockets full of rocks. Letters in the mailbox. 

Music every minute, with silence in between. 

Solitude. Good company. People that I love.

Blank white paper. Black ink pens. 

For spiderwebs. For seashells. For light green sprouts.

For roadtrips. Adventures. Brand-new joys.

And stories. Lots of stories, to tell and be told. 

For my brother's hug around me. 

For concert tickets, stained glass windows, jack-o-lanterns,

pirate gold.

Thunderstorms, romance, chocolate, snow.

eight things

1. October. Oh, how I love October. Crisp air, warm sunshine. These are bright days. 
2. The hat I'm knitting out of smoky red wool. It's fluffy. 
3. My four-year-old sister, who said to me, "I really think you should see this," and then zipped up her jacket all by herself. 
4. The apple I managed to peel in one long, curly strip. I made applesauce.
5. Hot tea out of big, thick mugs, or the little white teapot. 
6. Reading outside and hearing woodpeckers. 
7. Good music, and lots of it. 
8. Hope. 

Lately happiness has been everywhere. It feels like late-afternoon sunshine.