happy wednesday

caffe latte: noun: a bit of morning bravery in a cup

I feel better already.

not a tale of love and devotion.

This is The Amazingly Improbable Celia.

Why improbable? Because her face and her body don't really match up: she stole the face from a pug, and the body from a beagle, and no, it really isn't that cute. (The photos... well, they make her look good.)

She has a rude sense of humor, lies through her teeth, and is even lazier than I am. I spent a lot of time with her recently, calling her as many names as I could think of, and then rhyming them all in a long ballad of Celia-ness. (Not a flattering song, but oh-so funny.)

She doesn't have many good qualities, but I will give her this much: In spite of my not-especially-warm reception of her, she still wanted to sleep curled up at my chest, staring at my face.

Which was kind of endearing.

And I just might admire that kind of insane, blind, foolish devotedness. Just a little.

Or, I don't know, maybe she just wanted to bite my nose off, as soon as I closed my eyes.

(Wholly undeserved. After all, she was the one who devoured The Joy of Cooking, not me, I don't care what she told you.)

But even in that case: I'd have to admire her cunning.

And her general Celia-ness.

two minutes of yay.

I hope your weekend feels like this.



(Only a little less blurry.)

i couldn't agree more.

Here's a little Bach for your morning:

Without my morning coffee I'm just like a dried-up piece of roast goat. -- Johann Sebastian Bach

Ha ha!! Who knew he was so funny?

Cheers to all my fellow roast goats.

listapalooza 5: let's go back.

When you're a kid, everyone talks about growing up like it's the prize destination. And, well, yay for growing up.

But I've been watching my niece and thinking about how awesome childhood can be, and I can't help thinking: there are some things I gave up that I didn't want to give up.

You know what I mean?

So here's some of the stuff, the ideas, and the habits from childhood that I want back.

1. my imaginary friends. (Oh wait. I write fiction. It's kind of the same.)

2. my popsicle stick collection: it was truly huge. And felt so useful, except ... it wasn't.

3. stickers. We don't have to outgrow stickers, do we? I don't think we do.

4. naming the trees in the backyard

5. keeping spiral notebooks filled with one-page stories... I really should bring back the whole one-page story idea.

6. my repertoire of handclap rhymes. Where did they go? Probably pushed out of my brain by utterly useless things, like chemistry equations and memorized lists of history facts. Pfft. Who needs it. And now that it's time to teach my niece handclap rhymes... I got nothin'.

7. expecting to walk on the moon. I was so sure I'd get there one day. Now? Now I think I'll just stick to waving at it.

8. I used to plot my escape from any room that I was in. Just in case I became a spy and that habit would be useful. So... where's the air duct I could crawl through, or how would I break a window, or what could I do to cover my footprints... yeah. Haven't thought about that in so long...

9. my habit of hiding random notes where I thought strangers might find them

10. dreaming about what amazing, life-changing secrets could be hidden in our attic

11. those awesome gel sandals... kids' clothes are so fun!

12. keeping massive lists of names I would give animals, if I ever happened to find, say, a hedgehog or wildebeest I could call my own.

Because you just never know.

And that's what's so awesome about being a kid.

listapalooza 3: sorry, but i just don't love it.

I feel like I should love these. But I don't. I just ... don't. So I feel kind of apologetic for some of these, but confession (they say) is good for the soul.

So for what it's worth, I'm not wild about

* bubble tea!

* Jack Johnson

* jeggings (yiiiiikes.)

* Glee

* or, for that matter, Modern Family

* nail polish on my own fingernails (looks so weird! and I can hear my old piano teacher snarking at me again...)

* Ernest Hemingway

* milk chocolate

* iPods (yikes)

* okay, and since I admitted to that, I also can't like cell phones. Really.

* carrots (never ever ever could manage to like carrots)

* cast iron pans

* cake pops (ack!)

* food coloring

* spearmint

* ooof, or black licorice

* taxis

* Toms shoes (I love what they do, I just don't love the shoes, okay?)

* soft cooked eggs (shudder)

* annnnd, while I'm in a confessing mood: Harry Potter. Yes really. Just couldn't get interested, though I promise I tried.

Wow. Confession really is great. I feel so ... relieved, some how. And like I've just designed some weird utopia, strangely free of all the above...

hee hee.

i have this hunch...

that my life would be really perfect if I could learn how to knit socks.

I'm very sure of this.

it's beginning to look a lot like Etsy.

If you're still stumped on holiday shopping, and if you haven't spent some time on Etsy, well... consider this an invitation. I love this site!

... Best of all, I love doing random searches, and seeing what comes up. You never know what you'll find! So... with a tip of the hat to number 13 on the list, here are my ten favorite searches lately:

writerly, especially this one

ferret, especially this

London (yeah, I know, that was a hard one!), especially this!! makes me wish I had a laptop!!

library chic, especially this

repurposed books, especially these

unicycle ... look at this!!

typewriter... especially this one!

Sherlock Holmes, especially this lovely thing ... and wow, I couldn't resist, this too!!

ink ... so many gorgeous things, but check this one out!

And last but far from least ... ampersand. I'd love just about everything on this list, but especially this. Okay, and this. Annnnd this.

So much fun, isn't it?? Happy browsing!

i know how to take defeat.

All right. So it didn't rain. In fact, it was crazily gorgeous outside, a reprise of summer's best.

And while I wrote outside, marveling at orange leaves against the clear sky, tonight I'm still missing rain.

So I rummaged around and came up with the next best thing: There's dark chocolate. And a glass of red wine. And I'm listening to Edith Piaf.

I'm in luck--it's not a perfectly clean recording. And in the faint, underlying hiss, I can imagine all the rain I need. I'll even sing along, pretending that I know enough French. I sing nasal gibberish, she hits the right words and notes, and somehow it's exactly what I wanted.

no offense, sunshine...

But we could seriously do with another rainy day. Please.

Not too much, just a thin, gentle, grey rain. Just enough to make the evening feel drowsy, just enough to lullaby us all to sleep.

And then we can go back to startling blue skies again tomorrow.

Okay? Okay.

the black-haired protagonist me

Once I overheard someone ranting about "those dumb pictures people take of themselves in mirrors..." etc. etc. So it's somewhat sheepishly that I'm posting these unartistic shots...

Sheepishly. But not so sheepish that I won't post 'em... (besides, I did promise a look). So here you go.
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There. If you are, in fact, the scandalized ranter I overheard, and these pictures make you go wash your eyes or something, let me know.

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I'll send you a formal apology.

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Also, I found these fantastic, unrelated quotes today. They have nothing whatever to do with black hair or with Mondays, but I thought I'd share. After all, here I am, and there you are... so. Happy Monday.

I ... have always known that my destiny was, above all, a literary destiny--that bad things and some good things would happen to me, but that, in the long run, all of it would be converted into words. Particularly the bad things, since happiness does not need to be transformed: happiness is its own end. -- Jorge Luis Borges.

Swoon. I love that. A literary destiny... what a lovely idea.

Speaking of lovely, I hope I can work this next quote into a conversation sometime...

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And we meet, with champagne and a chicken, at last. -- Lady Mary Wortley Montagu

Isn't it a perfect opening line? Great for sweeping into a crowd, with a mock-dramatic accent, dahhhhlings! And, hopefully, there would be champagne, and a chicken (alive or dead or rubberized? I'm not sure which).

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Anyway, someday, I'm saying that one. Someday.

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Probably the sort of thing we black-haired protagonists do.

i'm not trying to be rude, really...

I just noticed that occasionally Blogger and I disagree. I'll approve a comment, Blogger says it's approved, and yet it somehow vanishes.

So, if you've recently posted a comment and it never appeared... it isn't because I was offended! I really can't explain why Blogger swallowed it.

I hate losing anyone's writing. It's like a miniature version of my worst nightmare. ... Hopefully those friendly comments are all getting acquainted with one another in their own little comment netherworld. A place which is full of good coffee and kind conversation, even if it's otherwise a little like purgatory.

Anyway. If one of them was yours... sorry!

... and then everything was all right.

Yeah. It happened. I had a kitchen moment.

Mmm. Grandma's Wholesome Candy.
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It's not about glamorous. And I kind of love that.

in the mood

It is not the quantity of the meat, but the cheerfulness of the guests, which makes the feast. -- Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon


It's been an uphill sort of writing day, and my brain feels like so much rubber. My poor little protagonist! If her writer keeps getting stalled out like this, she won't get very far, and certainly not very fast.

I should teach her to knit. At least she'd have something to do.

So, in between paragraphs of inspiring prose, I've been staring out the window at the sun cutting across our lawn. It's one of those very summery afternoons, the sort that reminds you of sidewalk chalk and freeze pops and picking burrs out of your socks.

None of which are in my novel. (Sidewalk chalk. That could add an interesting touch.)

Unsurprisingly, I've been thinking about all the things I'd do if I weren't writing right now. Things like

1. snagging another cherry lollipop. Cherry lollipop + funny sunglasses = a good enough reason to leave the desk.

2. going to the beach. Not that we have a beach in southern Illinois... but I feel homesick for a beach nevertheless. I wouldn't need much sun or time to swim--I just want to listen to the waves. Yes. I could listen to the crashing of waves for a very long time.

3. If I can't get a beach, I think I'd like a storm. A blizzard would be nice, to cool us off, but I'd settle for anything windy and a little dangerous. Ooh. With a mystery novel at my side. And another mug of coffee.

4. That naturally makes me think of browsing a used bookstore. Which is another way of saying going on a treasure hunt. Used bookstores fill me with a quiet kind of glee--I'm always recklessly excited, even in the sleepy, peaceful atmosphere. My favorite place is Redux Books in Grand Rapids. Hmm. Also far away. I'm noticing a theme.

5. making pasta sheets from scratch. I don't actually know how to do this, but I've been eager to try for a long while. And after arguing with a character for a few hours, rolling out pasta dough sounds like a stressfree experience. I think I'm in the mood for a culinary challenge...

6. or making Grandma's Wholesome Candy. This is not a culinary challenge. It's also not from one of my grandmas! It's from a battered little cookbook and we've been making it for as long as I can remember. Humble light brown "candies," which turn out to be insanely addicting...

Really. My sister spent a summer making these over and over again. Every week, a new batch. They're hard to get out of your head... though I don't know why I'm suddenly thinking of it. Or why, after much writing and brainstorming, it's all I can think of. Hmm. But I'll probably have to make a little batch, if I hope to get back to work.

It's an innocent enough recipe, and, heck, maybe it's an acquired taste, and has to be experienced young. Try it and let me know:

Mix 1/2 cup peanut butter and 1/4 cup honey. Add 1/2 cup instant nonfat dry milk, until you have a dough-like consistency (not too dry but not sticky). Add more if needed. Roll into balls and place on waxed paper. Keep in refrigerator or freeze. Makes 24.

And there you have it. I feel like I just typed out the whole secret to childhood happiness... Certainly it's the making of a happy summer afternoon.

"so there were these three birds..."

I snapped this picture during breakfast this morning. Is it just my goofy sense of humor, or does this look like the setup for a joke?

All it needs is an awesome caption...

Poor mourning doves. They're just never going to win "Most Intelligent-Looking Bird."