brand spanking new

this is the part where I tell you that I hoard paper. pretty paper, non-pretty paper, wall paper, wrapping paper, found paper. paper paper paper. there are rolls in the basement, scraps in boxes and folders and envelopes. occasionally, they make the pages of the moleskine but today they are front and center-- in the form of a happy new banner. if you are confused, look to the tip top of the page.

just seemed like it was time for a change. time for a pop of color. spring does that to me.

p.s. many many thanks to that guy I love for the help. the truth is that I'd be lost without him.

wow

the sign-up for the postcard swap is now officially closed. and I am officially shocked by the overwhelming response. about a week ago, the mister wondered if maybe I should close the swap sign-up a little early. um, you do have a life and a family to look after, he said. but I just couldn't do it. partially because I wanted to honor what I'd originally said but also because the comments and emails kept coming in. I couldn't stop it, I just couldn't. wow. thank you, all you lovers of summer, you lovers of postcard swaps! you are from all over the country, all over the world. my inbox is singing, my humble little laptop is all abuzz with your enthusiasm.

the details will be coming your way soon, friends. you should receive an email from me in the next couple of weeks with the next round of instructions. a few of you left comments and expressed interest but did not leave an email address. can't include you on the list if I don't have an email address. if that's you, you know what to do. and if you haven't already, feel free to join the flickr group. not required at all, just something there to join if you like.

for the record, I can't send a postcard to everyone this year. I wish I could, I really do but like my husband says, I have a life, a family to take care of and besides that, the cost of the postage alone would kill me. I'll be putting myself on a couple of the lists, though. and I promise to be as diplomatic about it as I possibly can.

so here's the part where I ask you to be patient with me as I sort out all the details, put together the groups and inevitably make so many mistakes. the details, they are coming. they are, they are, yes they are.

june, I love you

(postcard I made for last year's swap)

first of june= unofficially summer. even if it doesn't feel like it, even if portland doesn't know it yet. the first of june is when the sandals and floaty skirts come out, it's when I start thinking about things like box fans, lightning bugs and baby pools. I get serious about gardening. speaking of which, my strawberry plants are looking awesome. anyway. june means open windows. it means picnics, yard sales and road trips. and projects. good lord, the projects. june is for the starting of new projects, june is the new january. only without all that pesky dreary weather. unless, of course, you live in portland.


(more of my postcards)

so it was this time last year that I organized my first postcard swap. when I initially put the idea out there, I had no idea so many people would be interested. 20, I thought. 30 tops. when the final count hit 80 something, I was shocked. I decided I needed to break folks up into smaller groups of 12-15. high on some kind of crazy summer happy, I put myself on every list. which is a little nuts, yes, I realize this now. but I'd decided early on to send a postcard to each person who signed up.


(the great wall of postcards, about to be dismantled and *gulp* mailed out)

which meant I made a lot of postcards. oh friends, so many postcards. wore down more gluesticks than I'd care to mention, cut up enough little squares of paper to cover a small third world country. I spread my supplies out everywhere, took over the entire bed, the entire house. each night, ward would try to fit his body into the inch of space I'd so generously left for him on his side of the bed. he would gently (okay and not so gently) push supplies out of the way, curl up into a little ball and try to fall asleep. meanwhile, I woke up with bits of paper stuck to my legs, my arms, found them hiding in the folds of my nightgown.



somewhere around the 50th postcard, I wondered what I'd gotten myself into. but sending out 80 or something postcards also meant that I'd be receiving 80 or something postcards.


(my wall of summer, thanks to all the delightful swap peeps)

actually, I received a little bit of lovely summer mail art everyday for about a month. which made all the hard work absolutely totally worth it. the postcards, they came from all over. some from different countries, many more from all over the united states. each day I found something new waiting for me in my mailbox. a bright-colored collage or painting, an old-fashioned summer recipe, a favorite summer poem. everything from a deconstructed watermelon to the simplicity of the grape popsicle. everyone had a different take on summer and by the end of the season, they'd all found a place on my kitchen wall. which is exactly where they stayed until the night before thanksgiving. I could barely stand to do it but the time finally came to take them all down.



so I just can't not do it all again. and I can't wait for portland to bring me summer because holy crap, she is really dragging her feet. portland, I'm going to pretend that it's not cold and rainy outside today. I am going to shut my eyes and pretend it isn't so. while I am waiting for the sun, I will be working on summer-themed postcards. well, hopefully. I need a few people to sign up to make the second annual summer postcard swap an official thing. so if you're interested, please leave your name and email address in the comment section below or click on my profile where you'll find the option to email me. same guidelines as last year and soon there'll be a new flickr group to join. I'll allow a couple weeks for folks to sign up and then close the swap on june 15th. you'll receive an email with instructions and a list of names and addresses. and then the fun really begins. hopefully, the sun will be out by then. hopefully, summer will be in full swish.

because

it's thursday and thursdays really mean something around here. so it's time for the junk mail collage from moleskine #2. also, it's time for an update. the frigid, rainy state of affairs here is not cramping our style. well, maybe just a little. while on fake vacation this week, we've seen:

a chemistry lab
a rainbow (for reals)
an elvis impersonator
a barn owl named julio

we've seen and done more than that but I'm all about the highlights today.

mondays are for color (and other things)

like tomato soup (with toast on the side) and unexpected pre-breakfast trips to the thrift store. mondays are also good for sorting things out.

my mind was wild with ideas last night. they were coming at me all at once, like a thousand super bouncy balls set loose. I spent the better part of an hour scooting from room to room, hashing things out in a scattered fashion. ten minutes in this room to see what this pattern looked like with that color and then fifteen minutes downstairs in my studio to shift things around and hang this letter here and that photograph there and then five minutes looking at papers for a collage, sketching ideas for a piece and then ten minutes on the computer looking at this and that, ten minutes to write. oh and then ten minutes with the camera and another ten minutes playing musical lampshades (which is when you trade this lampshade for that one until every lamp in the house is wearing a different hat).

when I am creatively overstimulated like this, I usually try to see it through to the end. I try hard to collect all that is rolling through my mind and get it down onto whatever paper is available. then I make a beeline for the green couch, the one that pulls me deep into the delicious land of reclining. there's a crevice in the couch that makes it impossible for me to do anything other than curl up and stare at cable television. I give myself permission to check out, shut down, close shop for the night because seriously, my head just can't take it.

so today I am sorting things out. how about you?

more color on this day we call monday:









because sometimes what you need is a shot of color.

L is for lazy

am having the hardest time getting started today. even though the day is halfway over. am feeling extraordinarily lazy and completely uninspired. it will pass, I know it will.

paint-stained hands

I took a few workshops last week and I learned some things:


from karen's class

1. bleach pens are fun. this is especially true where photographs are concerned. kind of like photoshop without the computer, karen says. and she's right. I think karen is cool.


messing with tape, paint and xerox copies in juliana's workshop

2. I really really enjoy working fast. there's no time to overthink what you're doing, no time to obsess, no time to talk yourself out of experimentation. in juliana's workshop, there were very specific instructions and small chunks of time in which to work. as a result, I took more chances, made bigger messes, played around with different colors. she kept telling us to do the one thing that felt the most wrong, the one thing we felt would absolutely not work-- just to see where it would end up. and so I let go of trying to control every last little detail. probably the best thing about making art is the moment you resign yourself to a more authentic process.


magazine pages, ready for collage

3. yes to household products, yes. for more than just cleaning. citrus cleaner messes with the ink of magazine pages in a most impressive way while furniture wax gives images a dreamy, vintage look. national geographic pages have gorgeous golden undertones. but then, national geographic pages are normally gorgeous, no alteration needed. still, nice to know you have options. (thanks, claudine. you and your workshops are so much fun).


more from claudine's class



4. when I am stuck, I tend to work in squares, or somewhat geometric shapes. I cut pieces out with very little thought behind it and then try to fit them together like an oddball puzzle. this seems to shake me out of whatever block I am having. I think maybe I have been doing this for years (because evidence is all over the place) but am just now officially acknowledging it. not sure why.



5. I'm pretty sure I need more art-making in my life. but then, I think everyone could use a little more of that. I am working on this, I am always working on this and will be for years and years to come. which is a good thing, I think.

photobooth friday

a couple of days ago, ava asked me why people have to work. why does daddy have to go to work? we've already had this conversation but that did not stop me from launching into a loooong explanation about the basics of life and how these basics cost money and how, in most cases, you have to work to earn money. things like houses, food, electricity, heat, health care, clothing-- these things are not free. almost everybody has to work to make money. and then we talked about about how sometimes just the dad works, sometimes just the mom works, sometimes both the mom and dad work. sometimes there is just a mom and she has to work. sometimes there is just a dad and he has to work. and then I was knee deep in a whole thing about how even though I stay at home and don't bring in an actual paycheck, I still work too. many, many words later and I was still explaining what it is I actually do. I even threw in something about how I occasionally teach to make a little extra money.

then she asks about the paycheck and how does that actually work? do you get real live dollars or what? this should have been a short, sweet little answer comparing the similarities between a weekly allowance (which we've just starting giving her) and a paycheck but then, I don't know, somehow I managed to turn even that into a big long overblown blahbiddyblah about how checks and debit cards work and how the bank works and what happens when people bounce checks and how important it is to keep track of how much money you have and how important it is to save money, to set aside some for a rainy day. even though I am certainly in no position to be telling anybody anything about the act of saving money.

so I was sort of proud of how thoroughly I'd broken it all down for her and I wanted to tell her that conversations like this, they're a big part of my job too. but of course, I didn't say that. I just asked her if she had any more questions about work or money. or anything else. she told me no, not really. because it's too much, it takes too long. well, some questions have longer answers than others, I said. sometimes there's a lot to tell you about something and it's my job to make sure that I answer your questions in the best way I know how. sometimes it takes a little longer to explain things. which is when she told me that actually, it's a lot of times, mom. A LOT OF TIMES.

okay, well. I am going to try very hard not take that personally. and probably I am going to keep my mouth shut next time a big question like that pops up because I am no fool. brevity is key. though apparently, I stink at that.

lookit:

leSophie
matt!?
acumamakiki
a.stray
lovegreendog
portnatalia
jennifer clare
revivify
unasu
arianaC
story of my life
thatbeegirl

sometimes truth

"I have nothing to say And I am saying it And that is poetry." john cage

so close

the postcards are finally (FINALLY) finished and I am currently busy writing messages on the flip sides. each person shall receive a lovely cryptic summer poem which, if properly decoded, will reveal the secret to life.

um, just kidding. but wouldn't that be nice?





though it's a great relief to finally be writing messages and addresses-- a stage in the process I thought I'd NEVER reach. I so totally underestimated how long it would take me to make 77 postcards. if there was a cape of shame for this sort of thing, I would be wearing it. live and learn, I say. live and learn.



in the meantime, I've been receiving postcards most everyday and The Wall of Summer is growing exponentially. happy blocks of color have taken up residence on the green wall in the kitchen. it's like my very own private miniature art installation and I do so solemnly swear to share more photographs of the happy wall. until then, this lil peek will have to suffice. you can make it, can't you? it's a lovely, lovely sight. it will be worth the wait, I promise.

hello summer

happy to report: too busy enjoying the first official day of summer, unable to write anything with much substance. though I could not let the day pass without a big fat WOOHOO. a thousand times over, woohoo. I'll scream it until the lady next door has to call the police. okay, probably not but I'll be thinking it. I have been thinking woohoo woohoo woohoo all day long.


(ava made this postcard and I looove it)

also, for those who got their postcards out today, WOOHOO. for those who did not, your big woohoo is coming, not to fret. I'm still working on mine, so no woohoo for me yet either. wow, 77 postcards... is a lot of postcards. believe it or not, I am still thoroughly enjoying myself. plus, ava has enthusiastically hopped on the bandwagon and is sending summer-themed collages/postcards to all her pals. we work joyfully in silence and the afternoons pass too quickly.

happy summer, all. it's going to be a good one, I can feel it. can you feel it? now, go jump in the pool. pick some flowers, buy new bright-colored sandals, make homemade strawberry pie. or something. leave word that you're revelling in it and I'll shout out an extra woohoo in your honor. I promise.

just around the corner

furiously at work on postcards here, how about you?

there are scaps of paper all over the bed-- I find them hiding in the folds of the sheets and tucked discreetly under the straps of my nightgown. they show up on the bottom of my sandal, in the bathroom drawer with the hair brushes and ponytail holders. they are begging to be placed somewhere, anywhere. they float serendipitously onto my temporary workspace, or so I like to think.

what few of you know is that I put myself on every list. I couldn't see any other way around it, couldn't narrow myself to just one list, couldn't stand not to send or receive a postcard from each one of you. plus, I wanted to see if I could do it, wanted to know what it might be like to receive 77 postcards in the mail. I wonder what what my mailman will think? I am imagining a whole wall of summer and wouldn't that be lovely?

I am somewhere at the halfway point and think maybe (big maybe) I can pull it off by the first day of summer. I'll tell you, what's been interesting is the process. I've been forced to let go of certain details and think more conceptually. at first, the number of postcards I had to make seemed horribly limiting. I like to take my time and play with composition and color, add in paint, crayon, india ink. I like to come back to pieces and add things in later. had to let go of this way of working, though-- I was forced to simplify. you know something? there's a lot of freedom in that method.

I look forward to each night-- the magic hour when the kids have been put to bed and my energy levels are still high. I spread my papers and supplies out all over the bed, put in a favorite movie and get to work. more than a couple of times, I have fallen asleep in the middle of the mess, tips of my fingers still covered with glue. this would explain the scraps of paper found in my nightgown, of course. wouldn't have it any other way. I love this. and as I have said so many times before, I am a girl who needs an assignment, a project, a deadline. not sure what I'm going to do with with my nights once it's all over. sleep, maybe.

lucky for me, I have the daily trip to the mailbox to look forward to. so eager to see what my wall of summer is going to look like once the postcards have all rolled in. you can bet I will share that with you. and speaking of sharing, there's now a summer postcard swap flickr group for all you flickrites to join. please do sign up and share your process, your inspiration, what you've made, sent, received, etc... go ahead and introduce yourself. fabulous gwen organized it all (thank you so much) and the group can be found here.

now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some work to do. I figure if I give the kids some paper and glue, they can join in too and I can work during daylight hours. long long way to go yet, but savoring every minute of it.

last call

last call, postcard swap peoples! already, a fantastic response-- slightly overwhelming but in the nicest way, the best way. oh, so many of you! and from all over, too. checkit, we're delightfully global: folks from australia, canada, the netherlands and the UK. and look at all the states in the house: arizona, alabama, california, colorado, maine, maryland, minnesota, nevada, new york, ohio, oregon, texas, utah and washington. did you notice how nicely alphabetized that all was? I'm on an alphabetizing kick lately. I'm not sure why.

we're a big enough group to be divided into five (or six) smaller groups. and just to clarify: each person will be put on a list (with 10 or 11 others) and will be responsible for creating (and sending) a postcard to each person on that list. this also means that said person will receive 10-11 postcards in return. voila, instant summer. hang them in your window. tack them to your inspiration board. put them on your refrigerator door. stash them in a shoebox and take them out in twenty years. leave them on telephone poles all over the city as an homage to the guerilla art movement. whatever you like.

but you do have to sign up first (if you haven't already). again, please leave your email address in the comment section here (one person didn't-- amy jo, are you out there?) or email me (option available on my profile page). if you've commented and expressed interest in signing up but haven't yet received an email from me, please let me know! everyone that has signed up should have already received something from me. and if you have recieved something but have not yet responded, please do. you know, so I can get my head straight with all this and try to make it happen. this is a most hypocritical request on my part as I am generally so slooooow in responding to others. all apologies for the hypocrisy.

that said, the deadline to sign up (or respond to an email I've sent you) is sunday, MAY 20TH. final lists will be sent out by tuesday, may 22nd. your postcards should then be sent out by the first day of summer, june 21st.

some words about the actual postcards:

one side of the card must have some sort of representation of summer (original inspiration here). think abstractly. or literally. feel free to use words, photographs, scraps of paper, paint, pencils, crayons, markers, thread, fabric, anything. again, the idea of summer is broad and meant to be widely interpreted. it might be as simple as the colors that you strongly associate with this time of year or a list of words that come to mind. you might choose to create original collages, paintings, drawings or photographs. really, there's no limit. don't feel pressure to explain yourself, either. part of the fun is in the interpretation. which is what art is all about, no? and speaking of art, you don't have to be an artist to do this. you really don't. you just need some blank postcards and some ideas. and a few materials, of course.

the other side of the postcard needs to have the name and address of the person you're sending it to (duh) but also-- maybe some sort of message. again, this part is up to you. it can be as simple as hello. and perhaps some sort of introduction. or it could be a story. or something. you may also choose to leave it blank (though please do at least sign your name).

some of you might be tempted to overthink it-- don't. I say this because I am as guilty of the overthinking as anyone. always too much in my head about things. feh. this swap is meant to be fun. it's about having an excuse to make something. it's about sending and receiving real mail. but also: kicking off the summer in the loveliest way.

instant summer

a while back, I wrote about my love for postcard swaps and how much I wanted to organize one of my own. and then a bunch of big life stuff happened, blahblahblah and I was forced to put the whole idea on hold.


inspiration here comes from ava's art work and images from the polaroid book

now that things have settled down (somewhat), I'm ready to play. here are the details:

1. create x amount of postcards (hopefully around five, though not too many more than 10) with the idea of summer in mind. okay yes, this is what most would call a 'theme' (not something I was entirely sure I wanted to impose) though it's meant to be widely interpreted. think: colors, sounds, images, stories. also think: photographs, collages, paintings, drawings, the written word. it can be as personal (or impersonal) as you like. completely abstract. or not. it doesn't have to be art. mostly, I'm interested in seeing where ideas merge and overlap but also-- where we split off. I'm interested in inspiration. and of course, extraordinary mail.

2. sign up in the next two weeks, either by leaving me a comment here (make sure to leave an email address) or by contacting me personally via email (check my profile page for that option). I'll make a list of participants (if there are more than ten, I'll break it up into groups) and send out the information out by may 21st.

3. send your postcards out by the first day of summer-- june 21st. then: camp out in the baby pool in the front yard. wear your most fabulous vintage swimsuit and try to look casual as the mailman approaches each day. let summer come to you on square bits of paper. prepare for happy, happy times.

thursday love

about a year ago, I participated in my first postcard swap. initially, I was all giggly and excited about it. but then I did that thing where I wait until the very last minute to get started. when that happens, the thing that I have put off doing becomes more like work and less like fun.

all my supplies were neatly laid out on the dining room table, right next to the list of names I'd be sending postcards to. I walked past those supplies several times a day-- folded clothes around them, spilled milk from my cereal on them, fought tooth and nail to keep them safe from grubby little hands. still, they went untouched. and worse, they began to mock me.

when I could stand it no longer, I made my first postcard. while the kids were asleep, I spread everything out on the living room floor and got to work. my name was at stake, people. and I really dug christina (the woman who organized the swap and invited me to take part) and couldn't have her thinking less of me. wouldn't you know? once I got going, I couldn't stop. a kind of euphoria set in-- like when you get lost in a project and you lose all sense of time and place. you don't want to stop to eat or sleep, you don't care about the monumental mess you're making. in fact, the bigger the mess, the better. my kindergarten self came bubbling to the surface and I found out she's pretty tired of being all pushed down and smothered by the grown-up self.



then it came time to mail them off. I'll tell you-- I had a difficult time letting them go. my hand would not release that thick stack of postcards, I was physically unable to drop them into the mailbox. all those little miniature pieces of art that I'd spent so much time on, all of them helplessly out there in the hands of any given postal worker? I hadn't thought about that part. they might be subject to rain. or greasy hands. or worse. they might very well be put in a situation where unnecessary manhandling would be involved. why didn't I put them in envelopes? although, wouldn't that have defeated the whole purpose of sending out postcards? oh, the vulnerability! too much. finally, the guy in the car behind me honked extra loud and rude-like and I came to my senses, reluctantly tossed them into the slot and drove away.

as I turned onto dekalb avenue, I thought about all the different places they would be going-- texas, vermont, california, oregon, arkansas, washington, tennessee, maryland, canada, japan. so terribly exciting to be sending them out into the world like that. I remembered the time in fourth grade when we each attached our names and our school address to balloons. on a sunny afternoon (and in dramatic ceremonial fashion), we let them go. so many red balloons floating away, bright like tulips against the turquoise of the sky, strings trailing and spiraling. I remember the humble little white squares of paper that held our neatly printed names, I remember the way they flapped in the wind. I will never forget the sight of it. the idea behind the project was that maybe somebody somewhere would find your balloon and write to you. I never received a letter but that didn't really matter. the real joy was in the moment I decided to open my hand and let the balloon go. the real fun was in the possibility it represented and what it felt like to intentionally put something good out into the world. where would it go? how far would it travel? who would find it? what would they think? I remember watching my red balloon grow smaller and smaller, I watched until it completely disappeared from sight and I wondered about it and I felt good.



so I've decided I have mad love for postcard swaps. even though I've only done one. I've just signed up for another and am planning on organizing one of my own. if you care to join in, leave something in the comments or email me. details will be decided in the coming weeks. or we could all get together and release red balloons into the sky. I'm open, you know.

(more thursday love aka TILT here)

the first year ever

collage for week #1, from the list

sitting in the parking lot of the grocery store, I watched the people go in and out. there was the man with the slumped posture and sad eyes carrying a bag full of pink carnations. the slick-looking man dressed in chocolate browns from head to toe, smoking a cigar. and the woman with jeans so tight she could barely walk in a straight line. I try to look and really see. and I like to write. when I'm sitting in the car like that, I like to paint a little, paste things. I read. I listen to music. I take photographs. I think about things and I'm quiet.

this is when I am most creative-- in the middle of the afternoon in a parking lot while ezra naps. it's unfamiliar territory to me but I'll take it, I'll take it when I can get it. I used to be a hardcore night owl, the juiciest parts of my creative self only making appearances after the midnight hour. I just can't do that anymore and can barely stand to admit it. every once in a while, I'll feel the surge of something electric and I'll stay up all night to see where it takes me. those impulses are growing dim, though-- as if my brain has a hand on a dimmer switch somewhere inside my head. suddenly, sleep seems like the smart thing to do. sleep is no longer the necessary evil I used to see it as, but the gateway to bright eyes and patience. to health, energy and daytime creativity.

if I have any sort of new years resolution at all, it is to honor that creativity whenever it comes, whatever form it takes. this is the first year in many, many years that I haven't made any real resolutions. because they're almost always the same and by the end of the year, I find that I've won a little, lost a little. I am the queen of breaking even. I have absolutely no intention of breaking those standing resolutions, I'm just not going to make a big deal about them like I always do. for the next 365 days, I'm going to try to work my way through the list. I want to continue to look and see and write, to paint a little, paste a lot. I would like to listen to music and take photographs and think about things and be quiet. and when I'm not in the car waiting for children, I want to move my body (dance) and be loud and joyful.

and sleep.

photobooth friday

in an earnest effort to further hone my procrastination skills, I took to photocopying photobooth strips. obviously so that I could make the subjects look like circus clown slash drag queens-- like the club kids that showed up on the sally jessy raphael show back in the early nineties. remember that? sally, sally, sally. what were you trying to do? those shows only made me want to smother the gangly boy wearing the dress made of magenta faux fur and wooden spoons with so much love. that his silver-spiked platform boots had him towering and teetering dangerously over you and your ridiculous red-framed glasses, well-- you know. I was filled with glee over the sight of it. power to the people, y'all-- to the freaks of the world.

this little habit first appeared in my college days-- when hours of heavy reading and many, many research papers were required of me. but this doodling, it was so much more fun. and such a deep sense of satisfaction and accomplishment.

it would be a habit that stayed with me, recent proof being the above altered photobooth snap of me and my best friend nancy (from a journal dated 2003). happily, I post it here in honor of her recent birthday. happy, happy, HAPPY birthday, nance. would've given just about anything to have been there with you.

photobooth friday peoples, I do believe I done you wrong. I intend to make things right:

jesC: last week, this week
the whole self: last week, this week
leSophie: last week, this week
nessie noodle: last week, this week
woof nanny: last week, this week
acumamakiki: last week, this week
jek-a-go-go
lovegreendog
a.stray
weaker vessel (holla for her first time, y'all)

yes

yes to new neighbors named vinnie and nurses who take the midnight shift. to lamps shaped like globes that sit in your front room and glow like phosporescent little moons. to ezra's swivel-hipped little run and ava's missing front tooth (she grins now like a prize fighter). yes to indian summer days, to opening all the windows in the house and re-reading favorite books (white oleander). to flokati rugs under foot, brand new boots, new underwear and skirts bright like tulips. yes to old kodak duaflex cameras (and then doing this to them so that you can take photographs like this). yes to projects, to distractions, to wandering minds and ideas that come to you in the middle of the night. yes to lite brites and the sweet, salty scent of play-doh. yes to wrinkled receipts that double as makeshift journal pages, to a self that is always shifting and changing. yes to flipping the pillow so that your neck meets the cool side, to the girl practicing trombone in the front yard, to the local hair salon named afro-rama that I drive by every single day. yes to playing so hard that your ponytail hangs all crooked and wonky. yes to skies that cover the day like a blanket, to candy-colored tutus lining dress shop windows. yes to changes so monumental they split your world wide open. I'm saying yes to change.

give me

turquoise wooden shutters, songs that people send you, red bell peppers, wigs that sit funny on your head, water-soluble oil pastels, scraps of paper found in the street, little feathers, dewy post-shower skin, polaroid cameras, fake-out karate moves, juicy strawberries as big as your head, junior mints, old school hip hop, french accents, sidewalk chalk, guerilla art, skirts full of swish, books that have to be read in one sitting or else you think you might die, cold water when you're really really thirsty, the hands of that hot guy I married, bowling alleys, crazy swirly straws, handwritten love notes, pink radios, clunky dr. scholl sandals, five minutes of quiet, stories that have to be told in the dark, friends that listen to you go on and on and on and on and on and still love you, voices that make you think of sugar and gravel, great lash mascara in brownish-black, people that kick the lyrical windmills, aprons over jeans, words like 'illuminate' and 'verisimilitude', words like 'languid', giant bubble wands made from old metal hangers, toes painted bright pink, doors painted bright orange, the grace of God, the grace of God, the grace of God.

thursday love

moleskin journals are good, just really-- so very incredibly steeped in the goodness of good. I love the thickness of the paper, the way it absorbs india ink, the way oil pastels glide effortlessly over the surface. and the delightful pocket in the back that holds scraps of whatever. I love them almost as much as the old school diaries with the little brass locks that I filled with bubble lettering and puffy hearts and preteen drama back in the day.

almost.

(more 'things I love thursdays' here and here. and more of my 'thursday loves' here)