Tuesday (on Saturday)

When I was about thirteen, I listened to Sarah Masen a lot.

The opening verses to one of her songs has always stuck with me, especially when a day has kept me distracted, and at the end of it, I happen to glance up at the sky. Somehow clouds or clear blueness can help things fall into place, and these words start playing in my head...

tuesday after a reckless and used day
i was running and running without a chance
to stop and chat at the sky

finally i stopped for a breath in the evening
suddenly i was caught by the scenery
painting a picture of You

Help Yourself

Aren't we always our own worst critic? I know I'm that way with my art, my cooking, my baking, and the list goes on.

Over the Christmas holiday my friend's grandmother declared numerous times that she was through with baking for the rest of her life. Yet another one of her recipes was a disaster, in her opinion, and she might as well just stop.



Though the above muffins were truly tasty, the flip side of my roommate's note of "help yourself!" had a blunt explanation for why they shouldn't be enjoyable. Down to half a muffin and large crumbs, it looks like the note wasn't too convincing.

A Bicycle

Even though I do not live in a particularly biker-friendly town, I often wish I owned one.



Since moving into my apartment a year and a half ago, a charming old bicycle has leaned against the side of the building where I climb the stairs to our door. At first I looked at it longingly, but then I started to notice dust and cobwebs settle and coat the surfaces. Apparently it didn't do much pedaling.

Recently, my roommate and I were walking up our stairs together and she mentioned, "Oh, that's my bike."

"Your bike?!"

With a giggle she said, "Yeah, but I can't use it. I put a lock on it and forgot the combination."



Today I was walking home with my chin tucked down into my scarf and my sleeves pulled down into my fisted hands and noticing how everything around me matched. The tan bricks stacked into buildings, the stringy parched grass, the cracking dirt, and the few remaining fall leaves, now as crisp as Coffee Crunch Bars (which are amazing, by the way).

And then there was the bike. Muted to the hue of old red velvet by its collection of dirt, but still providing a pleasant contrast to its landscape, it welcomed me home.

I'm grateful for some constants in life, even if right now one of them is a bicycle whose immobile back wheel keeps it stationed at the foot of my staircase. At least it's pretty to look at. At least it's got some color.

Good

How did I miss out on capturing the image of crinkled and torn foil chocolate bar wrappers scattered on my friends' living room floor tonight?

The last hours of this day were spent in the best of ways.

With...
good company,
good chocolate,
good wine,
a good ol' classic movie.

Sorry no picture. Can you use your imagination?

Books for Pleasure? What a Concept.

One last afternoon of pleasure reading before the textbooks take over my life, complete with a mug of cool water spiked with rose water.

This was my company as the sunlight turned golden and another sunny January day passed:

The Art of Simple Food, Alice Waters*
The Kitchen Diaries, Nigel Slater
The Lemon Tree, Sandy Tolan*
Toast, Nigel Slater
Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, Barbara Kingsolver

*I particularly recommend these.

A Mess Too

Sometimes art just won't get done without creating a mess too.

Maybe this is why I shy away sometimes. I'm an orderly person most of the time, but after all the time spent listening to art-talk in my classes today, I went ahead and spilled scraps all over my bedroom floor and pulled out scissors, a marker, watercolor palette, paint brush, water cup, and x-acto knife.

I stole the water bottle scrubber from the kitchen too. It's just abrasive enough to scratch up a smooth photograph surface.

...today I'm grateful that going to university classes means making prints, painting, taking photos, talking architecture, and singing songs about Napoleon in French.

Here I Am

Hello? Is anyone still here?

I hope so because, boy, I've missed you guys. Thank you so much for your comments on my last post (and archived ones) while I was away. I read them all, and my heart was warmed.

About a week ago I got a real itch to head back to blogging. The desire had never completely left me, but as a new year was heralded in with champagne glass clinking and blue flames of rum, my heart picked up speed in anticipation of 2009. This is one big year, folks. And if it comes that in August all I have to show for myself as I head into the big, wide world is a BFA diploma and a humble portfolio, at least I'll have this blog. Not that it will get me a job, but it will at least be a testament to a few things I love:

Words, photography, and food.

What's new this time around is that food is going to take the back burner. I just don't feel like this season is a time to pour myself into its creation and documentation, at least not extensively, like a good food blog requires.

Today I'm presenting you with a taste of what's to come. I'm still a self-proclaimed Hungry Soul in search of beauty and satiety in this life, so I'm hoping to continue to use this blog as a canvas for satisfying that hunger.

I'll be looking for the little details in life and try to bring them forth on a daily basis through photography and words.

This afternoon the sun is shining warmly and brightly on the monochrome landscape of Abilene, Texas. However, its brownish, tannish, yellowish palette was brightened as I walked home from the grocery store with a big bunch of vibrant green carrot tops flowing over the top of my bag.



My roommate and I squinted down at the bleached-out sidewalk as we carried our groceries back. One more thing off our checklist before the semester starts. But I wasn't thinking of the beginning of spring semester. Rather, I was imagining that the January sun was casting its face on a late summer day and was even able to almost, almost convince myself we had just been to the farmer's market.

A girl can dream, can't she?