25 August 2019

268/365

things I sometimes do on sundays:

bake things
sing hymns
take naps

24 August 2019

267/365

films I am very much looking forward to seeing:

queen & slim (melina matsoukis)
a hidden life (terrence malick)
marriage story (what I love about charlie) (noah baumbach)
marriage story (what I love about nicole) (noah baumbach)
little women (greta gerwig)
the goldfinch (john crowley)

additionally, barry jenkins is set to direct a film about alvin ailey and I. am. beside. myself.

23 August 2019

266/365

friday's green

strangers who have inspired me, part one:

the older woman at the thrift store yesterday who tried out the pogo stick and landed, comedically, with a loud crash near the office supplies but just laughed and got right back up

the guy on the skateboard, who moved with his entire body, like a dancer, on a sliver of sidewalk, who sailed past gas stations and drug stores and so many dumb cars as if he was riding some invisible wave

the guy in our neighborhood who walks every single day, slowly, deliberately, as if his life depends on it

22 August 2019

265/365

little life lessons learned recently:

when sweetening one's coffee and there is no sugar, honey or sweetener to be found, strawberry jam will absolutely not work in a pinch

when purchasing a curling iron at the thrift store, a quick check for the (intact) protective little rubber bit on the end of the handle would be wise-- otherwise, one will legit need oven mitts to use said iron and one will look legit ridiculous doing it

maybe don't put so many plants in one pot

21 August 2019

264/365

things I am excited about:

a new (old) varsity schwinn bike
a new street photography project
the celebration of a pretty significant anniversary

20 August 2019

263/365

color//colour

things I miss, part five:

pillow forts
early nineties thrifting
RC cola in frosty aluminum cups
dip-and-dunk photobooths
the soaking pool

19 August 2019

262/365

the twenty nineteen summer reading list of our former president:

the nickel boys (colson whitehead)
exhalation (ted chiang)
wolf hall (hilary mantel)
men without women (haruki murakami)
american spy (lauren wilkinson)
the shallows (nicholas carr)
lab girl (hope jahren)
inland (téa obreht)
how to read the air (dinew mengestu)
maid (stephanie land)

to have a president who reads, who thoughtfully recommends books. feels like another lifetime.

18 August 2019

261/365

things seen on a long sunday drive:

tire swings
old train depots
roadside wildflowers
peaches (exit 31)
churches (still in session)
cemeteries next door to gas stations
billowy clouds in my rearview mirror
waffle house
waffle house, always

17 August 2019

260/365

places I would please like to be magically transported to, part one:

a small alleyway in palermo
beneath the redwood giants in muir woods
the fourth floor of powell's books

I just, I wish there was a button.

16 August 2019

259/365

personal quirks, part two:

often throws blankets over small piles of clutter 
often processes anger and frustration through rage vacuuming 
unable to make even a simple grocery or to-do list without re-writing it until it is in perfect order

15 August 2019

258/365

powell's

book stores I have loved, in no particular order:

cloud & leaf (manzanita, oregon)
faulkner house (new orleans, louisiana)
strand bookstore (new york, new york)
the book lady (savannah, georgia)
shakespeare & company (paris, france)
ohio book store (cincinnati, ohio)
a capella (atlanta, georgia)
librairie bookshop (new orleans, louisiana)
beckham's bookshop (new orleans, louisiana)
e.shaver bookseller  (savannah, georgia)
city of lights (san francisco, california)
avid bookshop (athens, georgia)
and, the mother of all book stores, powell's city of books (portland, oregon)

14 August 2019

257/365

26//52

things I appreciate now that I didn't thirty years ago:

birds 
coffee
embroidery
mornings
avocados
artichokes
public radio
hot tea
hot sauce
house plants
historical fiction
home grown tomatoes
orange marmalade
documentaries
fleetwood mac
reading glasses
sunsets

a love letter of sorts



to summer, which is not over, not even close, even though we've been tricked into thinking it is, second week of school and all. 

and to lightning bugs, which I never ever (ever) get tired of, even after 48 years of living. gimme all the humidity in the world if it means I get lightning bugs every summer.

anyway, this is what I watch when I'm riddled with anxiety (which, unfortunately, is often these days). this little film I made three years ago is what I watch when it feels like I'm drowning. 

13 August 2019

256/365

another list for those of us who loved ms. morrison, because there's just too much good out there right now, too good not to share:

toni morrison, remembered by writers
toni morrison, a quick but powerful story
and, toni morrison dancing (good lord, with bill t. jones)

12 August 2019

255/365

nicknames I have been assigned over the course of my life:

andie
andie pandie
andromeda
ahn drey ah
hula
hulita
lady A

some stuck, some didn't. 

the truth is that I always sort of loved andromeda.

11 August 2019

254/365

guilty pleasures, part three:

fruity pebbles in coffee mugs
bad reality television
corn dogs

10 August 2019

253/365

a candy bar poem

notable items found on maira kalman's inspiration board:

a small metal placard that said OPEN
hotel linens used as paint rags
a pair of small black socks
a dog named susan
a pink ticket with the number 32 
a postcard of a pair of ruby red lips
a drawing titled last night I dreamt a rhino came to my house
a postcard of a tree in full bloom
one black glove with No. 6 painted on it in white
old photographs of boys wearing hats
old photographs of girls with silk bows in their hair
two rusted skeleton keys
a piece of paper that said REMEMBER THIS MOMENT
a cardboard sign with a picture of a hot dog on it
a toothbrush still in the package
a piece of gold foiled paper
a collected leaf
a photograph of a child with a box on his head
a postcard collection of erupting volcanoes
a pink post-it with the words good lunch scribbled on it
a polaroid of a tin bucket
a typed list I could not read
a ruta baga seed packet
a mixed california poppies seed packet
a flashcard that read 5+9
a collection of candy-colored buttons
a wax bag with pink and white stripes
a mammoth green tassel
a red turkish fez with the words HEY WILLY embroidered on it
a small white paper apron
a little lulu comic book
a candy bar poem
a collection of photographs of dancers (including the one that inspired the cover of this book)
a collection of photographs of children with things on their heads
a small metal placard that said SHUT

(as seen at the high a few weeks ago)
(maira kalman, I love you)

09 August 2019

252/365

things that are not for me, part one:

cilantro
football
nashville

except for your fleamarket, nashville. your fleamarket I will take. 

08 August 2019

251/365

color//colour orange

small pleasures, part ten:

breakfast in bed
flowers cut from the side of the road
pajamas at the end of the day
an empty movie theatre
a secret candy stash
hammock lounging
clean dishes

07 August 2019

250/365

Untitled

a list for those of us who loved ms. morrison:

you don't know anything, and other writing advice
meaning, without the white gaze: a memoir written for her, and for pecola breedlove
and finally, a magnificent 1978 toni morrison reading from the magnificent song of solomon 

(song of solomon broke me wide open 25 years ago-- forever grateful for her work, for her presence in this world)

06 August 2019

249/365

lists I am unable to make right now:

ordinary moments for remembering, the morning we left to take ava to college
all the things I felt, all of them 
any list, any list at all

I am outside my own body, hovering somewhere between heartbreak and elation. motherhood is contradictory at every turn, the map always changing, always bending, curving towards the unknown.

05 August 2019

248/365

lists I am unable to make right now:

ordinary moments for remembering, on the night before ava leaves for college 
questions I'd like to ask my mom about this particular part of motherhood
times I cried about it this week 

04 August 2019

247/365

things about sunday:

songs we sang together in the church with the wooden floors that creak when we sway
the scent of art gum erasers that took me right back to my younger, more possible self
the very last moments of summer break, the knowing of it, the mourning of it

03 August 2019

246/365

words I had to look up in the dictionary this past month:

gelid

porcine
usufruct
quorum
exegesis
funambulist
ululate

02 August 2019

245/365

books I read in july:

florida (lauren groff)
daisy jones & the six (taylor jenkins reid)
lost children archive (valeria luiselli)

it needs to be said: lost children archive is an extraordinary book. florida is too. the first of the books I've read this year that I believe to be great-- really and truly-- great. and lost children archive deserves its own list, I think. 

01 August 2019

244/365

on this first day of august:

orientation, completed
school supply list, acquired
defeat, accepted