Essential Details

One Hungry Soul has been haunting me. Each photograph my camera captures translates to something else to blog about - my new life in this gorgeous country deserves much more documentation than I am allotting it. And so, as I sit on my bed on this quiet night, I retrace my steps over the past few weeks, hoping not to miss the essential details that desire to be shared.

Here's one: Sharing a warm, dry home with a seven-year-old and his mother as the spring rain persists in the watering of already drenched soil.





I moved out of that sweet little house a week ago but want to offer a glimpse into my surroundings there before this blog moves on as well.







During the hushed gaps in the coming weekend, I anticipate a more thorough catch-up on life's photo log.

Beaches and plenty of cappuccino cups await.

Glimpses from a holiday

I planned to blog this weekend. But then, I also planned to go to class today. Neither happened, and I don't have any fabulous reasons for you as to why it just wasn't possible. But, because I didn't blog -- and because I didn't go to class -- I got to spend some valuable time with friends on Saturday night, check off my to-do list, and, today, still had the energy at 5:15 to grab my yoga mat and go workout at a time when I'm usually ready to flop on my bed and close my eyes for a few minutes of precious rest. Sometimes trade offs are worthwhile, even if there is now a big paint canvas calling my name from the art building.

I'm going to go ahead and backtrack a couple weeks and fill you in on the rest of my spring break. It's worth remembering and sharing. Like I mentioned before, I started out in Lubbock and got to soak up time with my uncle and his family, whom I rarely see. I just can't get enough of those little cousins. They put up with my annoying photo-op demands quite well.



The second half of the week was spent in San Antonio. While there, my adopted Hispanic grandmother threw a birthday party for my friend's dad, and it was an event to remember. With all the cheek kissing and margarita drinking and endless streaming of people into the house (all claiming to be related to each other) it was a naturally chaotic, enjoyable time.

I baked a Guinness Chocolate Cake as my contribution, and it disappeared so quickly that even the 51-year-old birthday boy missed out. But, then, it did have an amazing Guinness Buttercream just begging to have a finger dug into it. And then, with evidence of a greedy finger on a slice of cake in full view, you can't very well just leave it sitting there. It belongs on a plate with a ready fork in your fist at that point, right?

On the morning of the party day, I made a quick trip to Austin and got to meet the people behind Foodzie. Despite the distracting location of our rendezvous, I was so glad to make face-to-face contact with those I work with on a daily basis via my computer. I'm still interning for them and find my culinary imagination whirring as I copy, edit, and write about chocolate truffles and intriguing pickles and olive oil infusions.

So, between my hours seeking out free wireless connections around San Antonio to "be a foodzie," eating homemade Puerto Rican rice and beans, and hitting up the shops that Abilene will only ever dream of having, I still managed to pull out my camera. I had a very willing model on hand, so I sent her out into the cold with a pile of scarves around her neck and bare toes on concrete one day.



Another day I grabbed some eyeliner and headed beyond the corner of her eye, onto her cheek and down her neck with the freeing feeling that I was finally able to do what I always got in trouble for growing up (I have a distinct memory of a friend and I drawing on our faces with cheap, bad-smelling make up once...her mom officially drew the line when nail polish started going on the cheeks and nose).



So, this was my spring break. Somehow the Guinness Chocolate Cake never made it into my camera's viewfinder, but this just leaves an excuse to make it again sometime. You know, for official documentation.

That canvas is still calling me, but it's too late into the night to respond now. I think I'll give some love and care to the blank sheet of linoleum on my bedroom floor. I swear it's sending messages of neglect my way.