90/365

three things saving me from a deep and widening black hole of despair today:

the shawl vault that, of course, belongs to stevie knicks
the thought of a small child named volodia documenting a 1924 soviet leningrad with an unwieldy large format camera
the idea that scenes like this exist, in real life, in the world we live in, they exist

89/365

childhood books I read over and over again-- tirelessly, joyfully-- books I loved so much it hurt:

maria tallchief (tobi tobias)-- purchased in first grade at the school book fair, filled with gorgeous pencil drawings of a native american dancer who went on to become a famous prima ballerina with the new york city ballet-- I spent hours examining the drawings and though I have long since parted ways with ballet (modern dance forever) this book was the definitive beginning of a life devoted to the study of dance (there are still times I want to slip back inside this book and become maria tallchief)

peppermint (dorothy grider)-- a litter of kittens is born in the back of a candy shop and all of them find a home but one, a sickly little white kitten named peppermint-- the heartbreak, I could not take it-- which is probably why I read it a hundred million times

little majorette (dorothy grider)-- baton twirling was never really my thing but the pictures of the costumes in this book (specifically a little red two-piece number with bright white fringe and matching white leather boots) had me seriously reconsidering

I know a story (miriam blanton huber, frank seely salisbury, mabel o'donnell)-- pretty much your standard collection of classic tales but the last story in the book, the boy who went to the north wind, was about a magic stick and a magic goat and a magic tablecloth and wind that actually talked and a boy and his mother who had nothing but got everything in the end 

popular party games (alison m. abel)-- purchased at the school book fair in second grade and the beginning of a lifelong obsession with party planning-- there's a price tag on the front marked 30 cents and my initials scrawled next to it which means at some point, I probably tried to sell this book at family yard sale-- thank the good lord it never sold because there are key sentences underlined throughout, specific game titles circled and entire paragraphs crossed out-- it's a little piece of second grade andrea and I die when I think how easily it could have disappeared into the ether

flicka, ricka, dicka and the strawberries (maj lindman)-- checked out from the local library repeatedly and then purchased twenty years later at an antique mall somewhere in tennessee-- to be clear, I loved all the flicka, ricka, dicka books as well as the snip, snap and snurr books (because old-fashioned storybooks about swedish triplets are meant to be adored)-- however, this particular flicka, ricka, dicka book just about did me in-- the girls (in adorable matching red and white dresses, mind you) go on a picnic in the woods, get lost while picking wild strawberries, and are taken in by a sweet family who has nothing-- in the end, the family helps them get back home safely and the girls return with a basket filled with strawberries and milk and bread and other assorted goodies to repay the kindness and every time, my little seven year-old heart burst wide open reading this, every single time

88/365

things about my library:

it smells, inexplicably, like a swimming pool and this, inexplicably, comforts me
there are generous wooden tables that line a sweeping wall of windows
there's almost always a seat available at one of these tables
there's a lovely quiet to it in the morning
as the day goes on, it fills with people and by late afternoon it's almost thunderous with community and life 
there are often people there learning english, practicing english, which I love 
there are often students there working on class projects together, which I love
there's a quiet room, for quiet working, which I also love
there's a lucky day shelf, which I always, always check
they have the smallest, saddest collection of photography books, but I forgive them
it feels like home to me

87/365

words I had to stop and look up in the dictionary in february:

desiccated
tatterdemalion
quotidian
maladroit
ebullition
exigent
crenulated
sluice
flocculent
gravid

86/365

things that have been really great about this list project:

the welcome respite from places like instagram
the inevitable creative growth that comes with a continued, consistent daily practice
and no one is really reading so I can pretty much write what I want

85/365

guilty pleasures:

mcdonald cokes
sitcom reruns
white cheddar cheetos
cheap nail polish
krispy kreme donuts

84/365

dreams I had this week:

that my tooth fell out and as I held it, people commented on it and said it looked shiny, like a rock

that I was standing in line for brunch with chris pratt and teased him about the action films he does now, but told him it was okay because, you know, we're friends

that I found a bird in the house, a brilliant red cardinal, actually-- perched on the edge of the kitchen counter by the stove and I could see it so clearly and it delighted me, it absolutely delighted me

83/365

current obsessions:

cara cara oranges
dollar store candles

the planning of imaginary trips 

82/365

things that make me think of my mom:

cardinals
quilts
pink skies
ironstone pitchers
scottie dogs
olive garden
the color pink

81/365

things I'm wondering:

when the tree in the front yard will explode with blooms
when (if) I will find my typewriter in the black hole that is the garage
how long I can actually keep making these lists

80/365

secret super powers I possess, part one:

road trip planning

parallel parking

spelling

and I can walk in your house and tell you exactly how many lamps you need and where exactly they should be placed

79/365

three places I would please like to be magically transported to right now:

the small balcony of a seventh floor apartment in chinatown
powell's books, third floor, the pearl room, photography section
the window seat of the coast starlight, traveling south from portland to san francisco

78/365

things I tried really, really hard not to think about today because it was saturday and the clouds were puffy and white and for once, we were out in it and there was cake with pink frosting waiting for us at home:

taxes
dentists
health insurance

77/365

current inspiration:

hale county this morning, this evening
the unconscious art of demolition
this movement, these movers
shana's lovely and amazing project
kateri's grizzled elder necklace
hong kong alleyways
a confetti collection

76/365

boys I have loved:

greg
jason
dustin
billy 
sean
cute boy met while on vacation down in florida in 1982 whose name I can't remember
mark 
kelly
bryan
troy
brent
charles
adam
stu
kip
darren
joe
ward
ward, forever