20 September 2019


five weekly friday lists I read:

tracy's I love lists
karen's this was a good week
erin's my week in objects
victoria's friday finds
tina's link pack

19 September 2019



things I have always worn, will always wear, whether they're in style or not:

burnt orange
striped things
turquoise rings
patchwork anything
vintage adidas everything
technicolor tights
embroidered blouses
wooden clogs


18 September 2019



sounds I hear in the background when I listen to my friend jen's messages:

horns honking
brakes screeching
ambient street conversations
muffled announcements
subway trains coming
subway trains going
buses heaving 
urgent, steady beeping
saws, drills and jackhammers 
things, people, bikes, cars whizzing past
women talking
kids laughing
motors revving
the wind

quite frankly, I need these new york street sounds as much as I need the messages and conversations with my friend. while we're on the subject, I'm not sure what I'd do without the voxer conversations I have going with three friends who live in completely different parts of the country. many times, they have saved me. many, many times.

17 September 2019


signs fall is coming:

goldenrod wild along the highway
negligible difference between falling leaves and passing butterflies
(cannot tell the difference until the very last minute)
soup, I want to make soup

16 September 2019


daily evidence of failed attempts and/or good intentions:

unpacked suitcases in the corner
a mess of books and papers on the desk
forgotten glasses of water, set down in different spots all over the house
mud beige bedroom walls I vowed to paint five years ago
mud beige bathroom walls I vowed to paint five years ago
a shower that needs to be scrubbed
a pile of clothes that need to be mended
a towering plant that begs to be repotted
chaos in the closets
chaos underneath the bed
stacks of unread books

15 September 2019


things I miss, part six:

my grandma's bread
birthday parties at the roller rink
bike rides in my old portland neighborhood
a washer and dryer in my house
the ability to walk into any store and buy a pack of polaroid film for ten dollars
friends that live close enough to meet for coffee
the feeling when I was a kid that I could do anything, be anything

14 September 2019


color//colour red

to photograph:

humble people
ordinary places
slivers and chunks of light

13 September 2019


literary scenes I'd please like to step into and live in for a little while, part one:

hobie's kitchen (the goldfinch)
francie's fire escape (a tree grows in brooklyn)
danny's tiny caravan home (danny, the champion of the world)

12 September 2019



first of the banana bread in the oven
marigolds in tomato cans having a moment
shades up while we sleep so moonlight can spill through the windows

10 September 2019


nola things

things I brought home from new orleans:

a pink fan
a stack of polaroids
the envelope that held our room key
the cork from the bottle of champagne we drank on the night of our anniversary
the little gold foil piece too
a napkin from the napoleon house
a patch I bought for ava (but will probably keep for myself)
two woven candy-colored bracelets that called my name
the paper bag that held our leftover beignets
three anniversary photobooth strips

09 September 2019


things I hope to find hidden deep in the depths of the garage, part one:

my blue typewriter
a cornucopia of lost art supplies
the rest of my found photography collection

08 September 2019



small pleasures, part eleven:

paper fans
cats in sunspots
lemon slices in cold water
the cool side of the pillow
freshly folded laundry
small flirtations

07 September 2019


words I had to look up in the dictionary last month:


06 September 2019


things seen today in new orleans and beyond:

alligator jerky
a painter's palette
a wall of bottled hot sauce
donald trump voodoo dolls
powdered sugar on the sidewalk
'baby, went to frenchmen street-- love, boo' scribbled on a pink wall on st. claude
a man in an ivory suit with matching fedora
bayou after bayou
houses on skinny stilts
rusted red iron bridges
roads lined with swooning live oaks
signs urging all to vote for someone named 'tater'
a roadside memorial cross accompanied by a dozen small silver pinwheels 
a carpet of tiny white daisies along the shoulder of the road
the sunset in my rearview mirror