1. You know you [Mari] are destined to be soul sisters with someone when:
a. you meet her at church
b. she is wearing a long red beaded necklace that she has wrapped several times around her neck
c. within 45 seconds of introducing yourself, you are already talking about:
-feminine energy in a living space
-Audre Lourde
-women's and sexuality studies in a religious context
-vintage dresses
-organic peaches
2. The taste of baked thyme with olive oil, the surprising sound of new husband and wife speaking in Arabic from the kitchen. Hannah now has an Arabic last name, Lebanese cooking utensils sent from new relatives she has never met with exotic names like Noor and Fadi, and I now have access to all the za'atar I could ever want. And I want a lot.
3. "It looks like a tornado swept through a church camp you guys."
This is how I best spend my Saturday nights, this is my kind of party: pumpkin soup and hymns, 3 glasses of pinot grigio and going home with an entire apple pie.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
No. 54
1. The way an Australian woman pronounced the word "ginger"
2. A quiet, warm morning at work. Listening to Andrew Bird and rain simultaneously. Eating orange-honey toast, drinking Sencha tea. I can feel fall on my skin already, and I relish it.
3. A tall man with long beard who topped his head with a yarmulke came pushing a stroller into the cafe. He ordered a hot chocolate [one of the most charming orders I must say], and I followed up, "Anything else?" He peered into the stroller and whispered, "Naomi, do you want anything?" The infant remained asleep. "Nope, she doesn't want anything," he told me.
Living in Rogers Park and working in Evanston, I am an instant part of a couple communities of which I am not actually a member: I live next to Loyola which unfortunately makes me feel like I'm living in a giant frat house sometimes; I work next to Northwestern which quite wonderfully makes me feel like I live in J. Crew catalog sometimes. And I particularly enjoy the Jewish community on the North Shore. I love how many times I hear the word "schlep" a day. I love the way my boss always exclaims "God bless!" whenever I do something well--"You're cleaning? God bless!" I love that meeting folks from Israel is a daily occurence. I love how many people I've met named Saul. I love how I have seen more yarmulkes in the past three months than I have in 22 previous years of life.
2. A quiet, warm morning at work. Listening to Andrew Bird and rain simultaneously. Eating orange-honey toast, drinking Sencha tea. I can feel fall on my skin already, and I relish it.
3. A tall man with long beard who topped his head with a yarmulke came pushing a stroller into the cafe. He ordered a hot chocolate [one of the most charming orders I must say], and I followed up, "Anything else?" He peered into the stroller and whispered, "Naomi, do you want anything?" The infant remained asleep. "Nope, she doesn't want anything," he told me.
Living in Rogers Park and working in Evanston, I am an instant part of a couple communities of which I am not actually a member: I live next to Loyola which unfortunately makes me feel like I'm living in a giant frat house sometimes; I work next to Northwestern which quite wonderfully makes me feel like I live in J. Crew catalog sometimes. And I particularly enjoy the Jewish community on the North Shore. I love how many times I hear the word "schlep" a day. I love the way my boss always exclaims "God bless!" whenever I do something well--"You're cleaning? God bless!" I love that meeting folks from Israel is a daily occurence. I love how many people I've met named Saul. I love how I have seen more yarmulkes in the past three months than I have in 22 previous years of life.
Monday, August 24, 2009
No. 53
1. My mom delighting with me in a recent victory for an issue very near and dear to my heart: food production. I am so very lucky to have a mother who cares so much for what I care for--who doesn't pass off my little interests or projects as youthful idealism, but takes a genuine interest in my passions. I love her so much.
2. Talking on the phone with my beautiful friend Megan for two and a half hours. She told me about her recent purchase of Georgia peaches from her farmers market in South Carolina, and observed to me that, "Peaches are really the most majestic fruit. Something about them is almost other-worldly...like they don't quite belong here. Something about their velvety skin or the color or the way they taste...I think they are a particularly royal fruit."
3. I would have never imagined Hannah's wedding ceremony taking place in the crowded basement at City Hall early on a Saturday, but there was something sacred about it despite the strange and comical circumstance. She looked lovelier than I've ever seen her, and radiated a happiness with which no one could argue.
Watching my friends turn into the people they were created to be--against my own expectations for them--has been such a gift of the growing-up process. Of course Hannah would get married in a silk blue dress, of course she would forget that she should probably have a bouquet, of course her husband would have had her ring made in Jordan, and of course right before her vows she would tell the judge, "Let's do the damn thing!"
2. Talking on the phone with my beautiful friend Megan for two and a half hours. She told me about her recent purchase of Georgia peaches from her farmers market in South Carolina, and observed to me that, "Peaches are really the most majestic fruit. Something about them is almost other-worldly...like they don't quite belong here. Something about their velvety skin or the color or the way they taste...I think they are a particularly royal fruit."
3. I would have never imagined Hannah's wedding ceremony taking place in the crowded basement at City Hall early on a Saturday, but there was something sacred about it despite the strange and comical circumstance. She looked lovelier than I've ever seen her, and radiated a happiness with which no one could argue.
Watching my friends turn into the people they were created to be--against my own expectations for them--has been such a gift of the growing-up process. Of course Hannah would get married in a silk blue dress, of course she would forget that she should probably have a bouquet, of course her husband would have had her ring made in Jordan, and of course right before her vows she would tell the judge, "Let's do the damn thing!"
Thursday, August 20, 2009
No. 52
1. I am enchanted with the way my little goldfish June swims all about her bowl as soon as I walk toward it. She’s just like a puppy, with her tail waggling around and her fins flapping up and down. When I put my head up against the glass, she jets to the top, in anticipation of food. I’m not kidding—either I have a genius fish, or everyone seriously underestimates the thought and emotional capacity of aquatic life.
2. “One of the things I love so much about his voice is how calming and soothing it is, almost like melted dark chocolate, in a small stainless-steel cup.” –Caitlin the Once-Dreadlocked but Perpetual Poet
3. I took myself out for a candlelit dinner last night, and I must say, I make a very hot date. I treated myself to some delicious Riesling, an entrée of Chicken Chardonnay, and apple crisp, with a second glass of Riesling. I invited myself for a casual walk on the beach after dinner, basking in the simple pleasure of a full belly, and an evening well-spent.
A married friend of mine recently revealed to me that she envies my independence; not too long ago she was able to frolic about the city on her bike, go out for solo dinners, or waste an entire afternoon in a coffee shop with no one but a journal and book for company. Now she and her husband bike most places together, she rarely eats dinner alone, and the romance of mysterious evening solitude at a coffee shop is slightly lessened by the fact that her husband always knows where she is and what she’s doing.
Of course these small changes do not lead her to consider annulment, but they are signs that life is now very different for her. And while of course I envy her for the stability, comfort, affirmation, affection, and consistent encouragement her husband brings her, I am inspired to be more thankful for this season of alone-ness (“sola-ness” as my Chilean amigas and I affectionately called it). I will appreciate these little gifts: modest flirtation with the loveliest of waiters, time to read a favorite book over a glass of wine in the overripe August night air, a walk on the beach—just me and George Harrison, then back to my small but bright apartment for an early attempt at sleep delightfully failed by late-night texting.
2. “One of the things I love so much about his voice is how calming and soothing it is, almost like melted dark chocolate, in a small stainless-steel cup.” –Caitlin the Once-Dreadlocked but Perpetual Poet
3. I took myself out for a candlelit dinner last night, and I must say, I make a very hot date. I treated myself to some delicious Riesling, an entrée of Chicken Chardonnay, and apple crisp, with a second glass of Riesling. I invited myself for a casual walk on the beach after dinner, basking in the simple pleasure of a full belly, and an evening well-spent.
A married friend of mine recently revealed to me that she envies my independence; not too long ago she was able to frolic about the city on her bike, go out for solo dinners, or waste an entire afternoon in a coffee shop with no one but a journal and book for company. Now she and her husband bike most places together, she rarely eats dinner alone, and the romance of mysterious evening solitude at a coffee shop is slightly lessened by the fact that her husband always knows where she is and what she’s doing.
Of course these small changes do not lead her to consider annulment, but they are signs that life is now very different for her. And while of course I envy her for the stability, comfort, affirmation, affection, and consistent encouragement her husband brings her, I am inspired to be more thankful for this season of alone-ness (“sola-ness” as my Chilean amigas and I affectionately called it). I will appreciate these little gifts: modest flirtation with the loveliest of waiters, time to read a favorite book over a glass of wine in the overripe August night air, a walk on the beach—just me and George Harrison, then back to my small but bright apartment for an early attempt at sleep delightfully failed by late-night texting.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
No. 51
1. The dish washer at work told me, "I was in a really bad mood this morning. But then I started singing 'Monster Mash' to myself and I felt better."
I stole his idea; it worked.
2. Waking up naturally (!) at 4:45, 15 minutes before my alarm clock was set to do the job. Not being incredibly sleepy despite very little sleep. The first order of business was to kill a bug fluttering about my kitchen on very many legs; initially I screamed and ran in the opposite direction but then got it together and squished him fearlessly. A very adventuresome way to begin the day. Making 36 scones for the morning rush seemed like childs' play in comparison.
3. Writing this from an internet cafe between my two shifts. Internet cafes remind me of dirty hole-in-the-wall places all over Europe and South America with slow connections, a skeazy guy behind the counter, and much fluorescence, and with keyboards whose keys are all in a jumble of alphabet spaghetti and strange accent marks; of course I find them terribly nostalgic and charming. Thankful for a nice-sized break between shifts. Thankful for time to sit and be productively lazy.
I stole his idea; it worked.
2. Waking up naturally (!) at 4:45, 15 minutes before my alarm clock was set to do the job. Not being incredibly sleepy despite very little sleep. The first order of business was to kill a bug fluttering about my kitchen on very many legs; initially I screamed and ran in the opposite direction but then got it together and squished him fearlessly. A very adventuresome way to begin the day. Making 36 scones for the morning rush seemed like childs' play in comparison.
3. Writing this from an internet cafe between my two shifts. Internet cafes remind me of dirty hole-in-the-wall places all over Europe and South America with slow connections, a skeazy guy behind the counter, and much fluorescence, and with keyboards whose keys are all in a jumble of alphabet spaghetti and strange accent marks; of course I find them terribly nostalgic and charming. Thankful for a nice-sized break between shifts. Thankful for time to sit and be productively lazy.
Monday, August 17, 2009
No. 50
1. Two interactions:
Sous-Chef: What did you do this morning—raid Annie Hall’s closet?
Me: Shut up.
[But what I’m thinking is: Finally! Dream come true! Annie Hall fashion comparison—I cannot be stopped!]
Me: Could I possibly get a dollar in quarters?
Barista: Do you want three dollars in quarters??
Me: GIRL, YOU ARE AN ANGEL FROM HEAVEN.
[I actually said that. Because it felt so so true.]
2. Doing nothing all day with someone with whom nothing comes so naturally, which is so much lovelier and richer than doing something all day with any other someone with whom doing something is such effort. The nothingness so much more meaningful and delightful than any something-ness; feels as comfortable and pleasant as being alone, except better. Reminds me of that Rilke line I like so well: Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other.
3. The colorful shadow of stained glass on the light wooden pews at church.
Sous-Chef: What did you do this morning—raid Annie Hall’s closet?
Me: Shut up.
[But what I’m thinking is: Finally! Dream come true! Annie Hall fashion comparison—I cannot be stopped!]
Me: Could I possibly get a dollar in quarters?
Barista: Do you want three dollars in quarters??
Me: GIRL, YOU ARE AN ANGEL FROM HEAVEN.
[I actually said that. Because it felt so so true.]
2. Doing nothing all day with someone with whom nothing comes so naturally, which is so much lovelier and richer than doing something all day with any other someone with whom doing something is such effort. The nothingness so much more meaningful and delightful than any something-ness; feels as comfortable and pleasant as being alone, except better. Reminds me of that Rilke line I like so well: Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other.
3. The colorful shadow of stained glass on the light wooden pews at church.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
No. 49
1. Smore fixins, a handmade quilt, a costume change, and meteor-spotting on the beach whilst conversing about the splendor of RVs, romantic Medieval notions of space and sound; singing showtunes.
2. Fun at work. I told the kitchen staff I would buy myself a cupcake the first day Head Chef didn't yell at me about something. I am always taking orders incorrectly, forgetting to consolidate the edamame salad, neglecting to put out the welcome mat in the morning, adding the incorrect amount of lavender to the lavender lemonade. BUT, yesterday, he yelled at me not once, not even a bit! A cupcake was had, congratulations given, and text messages were sent out among my co-workers: "Head Chef didn't yell at Mari today!" 'Twas grand, all of it.
3. Thought I had no coffee left in my small red mug; in fact had two more large sips!
2. Fun at work. I told the kitchen staff I would buy myself a cupcake the first day Head Chef didn't yell at me about something. I am always taking orders incorrectly, forgetting to consolidate the edamame salad, neglecting to put out the welcome mat in the morning, adding the incorrect amount of lavender to the lavender lemonade. BUT, yesterday, he yelled at me not once, not even a bit! A cupcake was had, congratulations given, and text messages were sent out among my co-workers: "Head Chef didn't yell at Mari today!" 'Twas grand, all of it.
3. Thought I had no coffee left in my small red mug; in fact had two more large sips!
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