Things & Stuff
The sazerac is my current favorite cocktail. I often order it when we go out to a cocktail bar, but I also like making them at home. For some reason, Justin loves my sazeracs – just for fun, he filmed me while I was making one for him one night.
I’m definitely a home-bartender – I’m still working on my lemon peel skills!
We covered our little IKEA table with this lovely oilcloth! I love it so much – it’s pretty and different and easy to clean.
I also cooked up some Brussels sprouts…
I basically made this recipe, and tossed it with pasta. Holy smokes, it was good.
And it looked so lovely on our table! 🙂
This video is possibly my favorite ever. Also, one of my favorite songs. via Miss Moss (who made the blog cut) 🙂
Tartine and bellinis at Blue Dahlia.
Have I told you about my theory of INs and OUTs?
I think I often have an excess of INs – inputs – in my life. Blogs, magazines, books, films, TV shows, music, commercials, Pinterest, Facebook, Twitter, texting, phone calls, emails, GoodReads, 8Tracks, podcasts, websites, links, images, articles, ideas.
And I feel the need to balance those INs with OUTs – outputs – like exercising, painting, writing, photographing, sewing, knitting, meditating, cooking, cleaning, jumping, yelling, doing.
I tend to take in way too much. This weekend, I have consumed so much information that I feel as though my head might explode. I watched several films at the film festival. I read the latest New Yorker, plus part of the new Diner Journal and a bit of Gastronomica. I started two new books and watched a full season of River Cottage. I browsed blogs, Pinterest, Facebook, and such. I listened to new music, and received emails and texts and phone calls. My head is full.
I haven’t had many OUTs lately. I keep saying I’m going to go for long meandering walks each morning, and I keep not doing it. I keep meaning to try to crochet a ripple blanket, or embroider something, or knit a new scarf. I buy groceries with the intent of cooking up fabulous things, but then end up having sandwiches. I just seem to keep everything IN.
INs aren’t necessarily a bad thing – I love reading, and would hate to ever have to limit the number of books I consume. The problem is that with each thing I read/see/hear/experience, I grasp onto new ideas, new things, new thoughts that I want to follow up on. I tend to be greedy with what I learn – I want to save those thoughts and images somewhere in my brain, so that I can remember them when needed. (Say I start to feel down about criticism, I’d like to remember Taylor Swift’s lovely attitude as described in the New Yorker article. Say I’m at the thrift store and see an oversized sweater, I’d like to remember that I can throw it over a button-up shirt with shorts, tights, and boots like the image I saw on Pinterest.) Unfortunately, my brain can only hold so much.
And so, my head is full. It’s time to slow down the INs. Granted, this weekend was a bit more IN-y than most, but still. It’s time to cut back blogs. Cut down Facebook. Forget Twitter. Return some library books. Take some walks. Write letters. Write poems. Sweep the floor. Make soup. It’s time for more OUTs.
Does anyone else have this problem of too many INs?
I am me. And that’s all I can be.
I wrote this:
I think back to the dreams I had,
dreams of what my life would be.
Sleepy mornings with milky coffee,
the clink of the spoon stirring in the sugar,
crossword puzzles and a new day.
I dreamed I would bake my own bread,
pull peach pies out of the oven,
write in journals while sipping lattes
at the neighborhood cafe.
I would sit at the bar in the evenings,
enjoying an aperitif, or a glass of champagne.
I would wash dishes by hand in a sinkful of suds,
and he would dry them with flour-sack towels.
I would take long walks, and stop to pick
the loquats that grew from neighbors’ trees.
I would listen to old records,
take afternoon naps,
and read book after book after book.
There would be candlelight,
cool breezes,
twinkle lights,
and him.
And today I realized that it is no longer a dream,
but my life,
and until now I have been too scared to admit
that my life is a dream.