As I was recently opening a fresh new pack of gel pens, I found myself smiling. Really such a small thing can give a little thrill. I was reminded of being a child and getting that new box of 64 Crayola crayons (the pack with the sharpener in the back, you know the one), and looking at all those lovely pointed crayons and the beautiful colours in flawless order. Oh, the joys!
I’ve been thinking about and appreciating the little things, those nuggets that can make a day sweeter.
– a friendly greeting from a stranger
– cold hands around a warm mug
– getting just the right texture for rug hooking
– warm winter sunshine through the window
– delicious aromas coming from the kitchen when I’m not cooking
– a funny text from a friend
– peanut butter
– a quiet moment, time to think
– hearing the awaited car arrive in the driveway
– a compliment
– that first warm blast of warm water in the shower
– finding something you’ve misplaced
– singing along with the radio when alone in the car
– starting a really good book
– reconnecting with an old friend
– a glass of red wine with a barbequed steak.
And so it goes, moments, things that have made my day. What makes yours?
Dear Diary, I have a thing for foamy hot drinks but I do not want a big fancy machine because my kitchen is tiny, well comparative to all those kitchens on house hunters but is that reality? Most of us have modest kitchens, and perhaps a little dose of kitchen envy to go with the few cupboards and limited counter space. My kitchen might be small but it’s nice. It might not be clean but it’s tidy. Oh don’t worry if you’ve ever eaten from it, it’s clean enough.
So to make lattes I use a little milk frother from any kitchen store and it costs $9 bucks and works like a charm. I got mine just up the street at Dayles. So to celebrate the festival of twigs and white lights I have taken to going into a dark room with a chai latte, or some other such warm drink and turning off all the lights except my three battery super duper book light and reading in the dark. The book light is on of course. I feel special when I do this. Of course that is because I am simple. If you are from Nfld., at some point in your life, your brother, or mother, or sister called you this. It is not good. It is not simple like the new simple.
What a weird little habit but I find it really soothing. Last night I ran out of novels to read after abandoning one and so I could not get to sleep. Instead of reading I watched House Hunters where people were moving into fabulous houses with multiple bathrooms and media rooms. I mean to wonder who is gonna put the ajax to all those sinks and taps. What kind of life is it to have to clean four bathrooms? How many wet towels would I have to pick up then? Thanks any way but I need time to hook. After watching the show three times ( why you ask why would she? ….read previous paragraph for answer) in a row I was wide awake, with my book light but nothing much for it to glow upon. Of course I was all excited about making all those texture packs and there was visions of fleece dancing through my head. Perhaps I should of thought of counting sheep. I did not.
I did my yoga, and fell off to a good rest.
Today I went to the library though so it’s book light night tonight.
By the way, today is the first day I did not have a pack of big cup peanut butter cups in quite a while. Withdrawal is going well. Oh oh it’s only five thirty.
Dear Diary, what does it mean to analyze something? How much should you analyze something? What is it to analyze something to death? At just what point should we step back and forget about it?
I don’t know. If I did I wouldn’t ponder it here. This is a place for questions, dear diary, you’ll find very few answers . I remember as a kid wondering, “Why is a house called a house?” My mother would just get irritated at me when I asked such things. She had no need for such questions, saw no value in them. She saw the value in kneading bread. Now that made sense to her.
We are told it is good to question things. It is good to wonder, but there are no parameters put upon it. We are left to that ourselves. Sometimes I wonder why I do things? I wonder about the value of things, only to realize that value sometimes does not matter. The value of reading a book is so inherent, the value of sitting still, the value of taking a walk. None of them can be measured. No one knows the real value of anything, because value changes.
What is valuable and precious to me, is useless to you perhaps.
An unexamined life is not with living? Oh come on Socrates… how can you be so sure of that? How would you know if a life unexamined is not worth living for sure. If you never questioned anything, just went around and bought stuff with a handful of fabric swatches in one hand and and a bunch of paint chips in the other , would it be all that bad?
Life, so simple, so sweet, when you look at it as …
flowers bloom, fresh peas with mint, light snow falling gently while you read a good book…who needs to analyze that?
I do that’s who…
I think to much, bore myself to tears..instead of just being….simply being
Dear Diary, I know you are a reader yourself. I know you are like me, a word hog. You like words, or you would not be reading this bit here on the website. You like to see them strung together in pretty sentences.
Words are like beads, you can string them together in completely different ways, and get a new jewel overtime. Last week my friend Katherine and I went to Moncton. She was busy for an hour so I said I’ll go to Reads new stand downtown. For me that is a pleasure trip. Time to waste, to flounder on words.
There were tons of magazines, journals and newspapers that you cannot get anywhere. They specialize in magazines. I think I touched every magazine in the place. I like to look at the pictures. I like to discover a magazine I never heard of that interests me. I like to get lost in words and pictures.
It was a clear case of small town girl goes to the little city….My head was a’ swivel.
There were so many good choices…like going to the rink canteen when you are seven years old.
You know it barely matters if you are interested in the subject, so many magazines are like works of art in themselves. So much design and planning goes into them.
I did find a magazine on something I am interested in though…actually I found many. I have bought the last two editions of Artful Blogging, because if I am going to do this I might as well do it as beautifully as I can.
Thanks for reading…keep reading…we’ll be updating the blog soon…and I have not forgot…there will be prizes, and further foolishness…because I’m foolish, and frivolity matters, don’t let anyone tell you different.
Dear Diary, Some of the best times I have had, have involved a book. Some might say that is sad, but to me it just says I love to read.
I have noticed in the last few years that the more I read, the more I value a story. One time I valued ideas, or books that made me think. I still respect them. I have a few I’d never part with…..but of course we part with everything eventually. We just entertain ourselves with the notion we will not have to. That is just a way of saying that some of my books matter to me more than others.
When I read for story, I don’t really care so much about the book as a thing itself. It is just something passing through my hands. When I read for ideas, I often see the book as a thing of beauty.
Most books I read either go right to friends, or directly to the book exchange at the studio. I hoard nothing but wool. Well I really like clothes…but not as much as wool. I’d part with my clothes first cause I could always cut some arm holes in a blanket and wrap a belt around it , just like I made barbies clothes as a child.
Books are a big part of my life. They are a place I get inspiration from. They are a source for learning and knowledge. They are a place to spend time, a spot to get lost, rest, and renew my energy.
Every once in a while I find a new author at the library that I enjoy. About once every two weeks, I go and bring home a small stack. I have discovered that they’ll order in any book you want. All you have to do is ask. I ask. In fact I have one waiting there for me now.
Some books are as beautiful as they are good. These, the keepers, should be looked after. I like to lay them around sometimes, just to look at. They are decorative. They are like sculptures for the mind.
There are books that carry to away. I like to read for character, story, and place. My latest reads were set in Louisiana, and Texas. I have been to places in my mind that I may never visit. Sometimes I get to revisit places I have been, like the Burren, or Edinburgh, or somewhere close, like the marsh. Writers carry me away. I don’t have to pack and I always know where my hot water bottle is. So much easier than metal detectors and line ups.
Sometimes, even the simplest books, even the hardest books, matter to me because they make me think. They bring me ideas in their open leaves, and I’m grateful for the offering.
Sometimes I revisit a book because it strikes a chord. I am not a big re reader but there are one or two that matter…..