dear mom,

you were so sparkly and radiant back then! bright like a roman candle. thing is, you are just as bright and sparkly and radiant now. more so, even. how do you do that? add to that list brave and strong. so strong. I am (and always will be) endlessly inspired by you.

(HAPPY BIRTHDAY)

xo, a

p.s. are you wearing your paper crown? if I was there, you know I'd make you wear that paper crown.

dear sun,

thanks for showing up today. we really needed you.

dear june,

I still love you. even though it has rained for eighteen days straight here. even though I am still mostly wearing tights and boots. even though it doesn't feel like summer. AT ALL. I still believe in you, june. I do.

sometimes the truth hurts

dear summer,

I said some pretty nice things about fall over at this joy+ride recently. but only because I really like sheri and shari and they asked so nicely. you are still my favorite season. the best season ever (in my opinion) and I will love you forever.

though I will admit to having feelings for fall. it's not anything serious but I thought you should know.

p.s. I am really really going to miss you.

I'll try if you will

hey fall, please don't take my forced smile and phony enthusiasm too personally. I'll come around. eventually. I really will. once the trees start in with all the glowing and the leaves do that thing where they float and dance around in the air and crunch under foot, I'll soften. when I've baked my first real loaf of banana bread and cooked up my first pot of butternut squash soup, I'll feel better about you. I promise.

a new pair of boots wouldn't hurt your case. and if you really want to seal the deal, throw in a couple pairs of new tights. that might do it. because you were made for tights and boots. and sweaters. oh, sweaters. it's all that crisp air, you know. you're sort of famous for that.

so I think I'm starting to warm up to the idea of you. just don't be so stingy with the sunshine. all bets are off when you start messing with the sun.

p.s. you smell good. I'll give you that.

eight years ago

dear italy,

I love you. I know, everyone is always telling you that. are you tired of hearing it? are you bored with the way the world loves you and goes on and on about you? I'm sorry but it's true. you must be seen to be believed. and have you noticed how everyone always thinks they love you most? that their love is deepest? if I were lesser person, I would take this opportunity to point out that, in fact, my love for you reigns supreme. truly, I am the one who loves you most. but I'm going for higher ground here and will refrain from such nonsense. also, I will try to remember it's not a contest, that there's enough of you to go around. (but I love you) (more)

it's been eight years since I last saw you and I can't believe it. I've been in love with you ever since. each year around this time, I get all nostalgic and soft in the eyes over you. I am so predictable. I remember the first time we met, how hard I fell. I look at the photographs, watch the video footage. sometimes I talk while I do this, to no one in particular, to anyone who will listen. I re-read the journal entries and press my nose into the spine of the little book I bought during our visit. it was the second day of our trip and I remember how happy I was to have stumbled down into that tiny basement paper shop in venice. that little suede book, it smells just like you-- sweet and earthy. each page is covered with so many words, so many funny little drawings. if I shake it hard enough, things fall out. bright-colored stamps, papery flower petals, bits of tuscan dirt, exotic italian candy wrappers. you should know, I dream about you often. and the dreams are good, they are always good.

so that's it, really. I just wanted to tell you how much I miss you. and love you. and want to come back.

xo,

your biggest fan

p.s. we took so many photographs of you. roll after roll after roll after roll. have you seen them? you look good. like, really really good.

self portrait #42

dear portland,

I am not used to wearing sweaters in the middle of june. in fact, I'm pretty sure I don't like it. but you are my new natural environment and I am trying hard to be flexible. plus, I hear the weather is about to get really, really good. so... I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt.

other factors working in your favor:

your gardens are spectacular-- including my own. I think you could put an old boot in the ground here and it would grow into something nifty. for the last two months, I have done nothing but prattle on and on about my poppies and my roses and my lilacs. fairly certain I've driven everyone crazy, which is why I've been holding back lately. I want to tell everyone I know that I've planted cosmos and sunflowers from seed and they're actually growing-- I can't believe they're ACTUALLY GROWING. little green sprouts that miraculously popped up one day to say hello to the world. I don't know why I'm so surprised. didn't I just say a boot would grow if you planted it? I stand behind that theory. still, I have never grown anything from seed (never ever) and the rush is delightfully fresh. currently, my window boxes are overflowing with geraniums and african daisies. also, I planted a vegetable garden for the first time in my life. the squirrels have devoured the strawberries (hey, can you do something about that?) but the bell peppers and tomatoes are coming along just fine. also swooning over: frightfully bright fuschia blooms and fragrant gardenias in the backyard, a lavender bush as tall as I am, mint growing wild along the side of the house, hydrangeas beneath the kitchen window and the roses. hard to believe there are more roses. I have missed gardening so much (I had a lovely garden once upon a time) and am overjoyed with the new appearance of dirt underneath my fingernails, the weeding and deadheading (so satisfying) and the daily sloshing around of the watering can. everyday brings little surpises, something new to inspect, something lovely to smell, something to cut and bring into the house. you have me over the moon about it all. I have to admit, I'm impressed. I'm falling hard for you.

also: I like your bridges. I really like your bridges. plus, the view of mt. hood just two short blocks from my house. and the fact that you can see rainbows on the regular around here. all such good things.

almost enough to make up for this sweater-wearing in the middle of june nonsense. not quite, but almost. if you had lightning bugs around here, you'd be close to perfect. I really miss lightening bugs. I miss them so much that I think it might hurt a little. you know, lightening bugs in portland would be a really cool thing. you should look into it. I'm just saying.

p.s. can you also do something about all the one way streets and seemingly random stop signs? it's making me LOCO.


(the self portrait challenge for june is natural environment-- see more here)

photobooth friday

dear uncle si,

I don't care that you never let me use my curling iron when we stayed at your house, I really don't. I know you were deathly afraid I'd start a fire or something (even though I was always extra careful). I know what it's like to be really, really afraid of something. you don't know this, but aunt louraine let me use the curling iron anyway. while you were at the pool hall, I was curling my hair. I'm sorry, but there are just some things a 14 year-old girl cannot live without.

I forgive you for being all weird about it because I think we are all weird about something. plus, you totally made up for it in other areas. for example: you always brought us the best donuts for breakfast. and you played a mean game of wahoo-- seriously, you were ruthless. and you had super keen junking skills (twenty lawnmowers in your backyard to prove it). plus, you had that twinkle in your eye. you can't buy a twinkle, you know. they don't sell them in the cosmetics aisle at kmart. you cannot have a twinkle surgically implanted into your eye. you either have the twinkle or you don't. you had the twinkle.

I don't use a curling iron anymore but I do occasionally use a blow dryer, one with a very large attachment (it's called a diffuser). I'm pretty sure this would freak you out. though I would gladly give up my blow dryer for one more week at your house-- me and mom and you and auntie and all the games of wahoo we could stand plus the early morning yard sales and enough fresh donuts to make us all sick. I wish we could go back, but we can't.

you should know how much you are missed. from what I understand, aunt louraine still asks about you. we're not sure she completely understands that you are gone now. or maybe she just doesn't want to accept it. I can't say that I blame her.

anyway, you are missed.

sincerely,

your niece andrea


p.s. more photobooth friday stories here:

jesC
acumamakiki
matt
koreana
scrumdillydilly
true nature
natty
(welcome miss jenny and miss natty!)