The floor of the greatest bookstore I've ever met.
At least, that’s the way I’m perceiving things to be. I’ll explain.
I imagine that all of these books are about unicorns. Or a girl and her magic kimono.
Instead of elaborating upon how my week has been one big mess, leaving stains all over and chunks of something-or-other stuck to the bottom of my boots, I will tell you a literal story of such events.
I angered the technology gods a long time ago. It could have been the fact that I dropped my first cell phone more times than I ever answered it, or it could be that I frequently tell people that I’m more of a “quill and ink” girl. Whatever the case may be, my blender decided that it would be the assassin representing the Technology Realm this go’round, as I attempted to make a blueberry and lemon sorbet.
It was… delicious. I mean, really, really good, especially for someone
who is about as domesticated as a bobcat. It was so yummy, in fact, that I decided to double the recipe. Use ALL of the blueberries. Zest ALL of the lemon. More sugar? Sure. More honey? Yes, dear. After the perfect batch of pre-frozen sorbet was blended, I excitedly took out a freezer-friendly container and started to remove the blender from the base of the appliance so I could pour the mixture.
Now, imagine the opening scene of Saving Private Ryan. Now imagine that, instead of blood and shrapnel, blueberries infused with lemon are flying and men are crying for their mommies. If
My Lobster is the prettiest Lobster. And the most coordinated.
that’s not enough, try picturing what would happen if Mount Vesuvius were filled with melty blueberry sorbet rather than lava, and that the poor unsuspecting civilians of Pompeii were my adorable gray boots, my colorful woven rug, and the white cabinets of my kitchen.
My blender. Shit its pants.
I’ll spare you the details that include me stomping my feet and swearing like I got paid for every letter. I’ll even leave out me scrubbing my boots for thirty minutes, and the tears that I shed over a sink filled with what could have been the greatest frozen treat ever made. I’m just going to leave that story as a metaphor for my week at work, my mental state, and my frustration with human beings in general. I’m completely content right now with my cat napping to my right and Ella Fitzgerald singing to me. There are brownies in the oven, and my roommate made them so I don’t have to anticipate the oven just giving up and exploding.
It’s the little things.
"Peek-A-Boo," say Jordan and Drew. "Look at these books we've found for you!"
Speaking of little things, I had the greatest time at Home this weekend. I feel like Home with a capital “H” is more appropriate for the city where I grew up. It doesn’t seem right to relate the city in which I currently live to the city in which I no longer live. It’s like calling your new step-dad “Dad” right away. No, you’ll be Frank or Joe or Vincenzo until I’m good and ready to call you “Dad.” If I ever get to that point. Bring it up with my therapist.
I hope it’s okay that I re-cap and then just post my favorite photos for you throughout the post. There are plenty, and I just want to share them all. At this point on a Friday evening, my brain feels like a blender about to explode with blueberry-flavored muscle and guts and blood.
On top of getting to spend the evening at a high school football game, which was probably the most entertaining sporting event I’ve ever been to for
hundreds of reasons, I thoroughly enjoyed the ride through my hometown on the way to the stadium.
Hope, crowned the Fourth Greatest Cat... in the WORLD.
Luckily, my alma mater was playing our cross-town rivals, so I got to drive by my old stomping grounds – – favorite coffee places, favorite
These are not flowers. These are books.
breakfast spots, old apartments, the university. In spite of the storm that we found ourselves in, the night ended as it usually does when I arrive home: staying up late with my siblings, talking way too much about school with my parents, and passing out on the couch. I wish I were doing all of the above right now.
Saturday included an impromptu cat show, the most glorious First-Day-of-October Farmer’s Market Trip, and an adventure through a bookstore that would make Cassie’s curly locks straighten right out from wonder. The pictures will illustrate.
Doublemint commercial much?
Firstly, let me just say that I’ve never seen so many stupid-looking animals in my life. And I loved it. It wasn’t just the cats, either. I mean, they helped. But it was the palpable (occasionally rather literally) sense of Crazy-Cat-Ladiness of the entire experience . And I relished it. I talked to every kitten stage-mom that would give me the time of day. And not only did I leave that community-college’s gymnasium with over one hundred photographs, but I also left with stellar inspiration for my November Novel. I think at least one of my chapters wrote itself. In my head.
If the cats didn’t do it, then the farmer’s market and bookstore most certainly did. Miles of books, in every direction. Thousands of intricate details laid out in the form of vegetables and hand-crafted trinkets and gluten-free snacks and men in suits smoking cigars at 10 AM. If nothing else, one could spend all day listening to the string quartet playing alongside the river while little boys in overalls dropped coins into their empty pickle jars. There was
Books that look this good must smell even better.
enough inspiration between the two of them to lead a semester’s worth of workshops. Day One’s Topic: PRODUCE. Day Two’s: STREET MUSICIANS. Day Three’s: THE SMELL OF BOOKS. I could write for days upon days.
Now, there are plenty of things that took place over the weekend that I wish I’d
"Do you have any keys?" "Not that I can spare."
documented. The most important of these being Drew and David, my sister’s boyfriend and Drew’s doppelganger, dancing in tandem to “Wake Me Up (Before You Go Go)” by Wham! on Just Dance 2 for Wii. Unfortunately, I signed a contract in blood before starting up the dance competition that there would be no flash photography. Something about preserving the dignity of grown men with beards?
"He is?" **runs to front desk**
As much as I would love to recount all of the other things that made my trip home perfectly grand – – stories from my uncle (which always seem to include nudity), the best breakfast I’ve probably ever had, a wall of keys, stumbling upon a man in traditional Scottish garb, cannolis and black & white cookies for dinner – – there are brownies in my oh-so-near future, and they require my full and undivided attention.
"Can You Feel Anything When I Do This?"
I would love to know how you welcomed October.
Here’s hoping it involved smushy-faced cats, yummy breakfasts, dancing, lots of laughter, and even more love.
I’ll share my wonder-fall adventures more and more, if you’ll have me.
Love you all.