the tablecloth trick

He brought a bottle of San Pellagrino for an object lesson on frictional force. After all the object lessons were over, he told her where to get the best Philly Cheese steak in the city. But he'll see her long before she goes to Philly.

Last night after the snow stopped falling, we convened at the round table. After a few moments discussion, it was unanimous: despite the snow and cold, we were going out. A quick secret mission. Just down and back. No one would even notice we'd gone.

Then this morning, in a twist of fate and destiny, (and perhaps some unknown external force) their paths crossed. 7:55 a.m. and there he was in his rolled jeans and great shoes. (He has really great shoes.) He opened the door for her and she walked right through.

eventually all things merge into one

Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs.

paul mcclean, a river runs through it

the weber in october

The Sunday Stompdown

Last night at midnight, we had a stomp. Minus the music. And maybe it was more of a flood rescue party. But despite the disaster, we managed to enjoy ourselves. We used every towel in existence to soak up mud and water that seeped inside the house from the trench in the front yard. Just a few photos (among many) we took for evidence. As in, we need them just in case the poor plumber (who thought it would be okay to leave a gaping hole in the ground on a weekend when it was pouring rain) ends up being guilty. Really they're just to send to the Board of Trustees. For documentation purposes. We're not pointing any fingers.

Hayley was the project manager.

Maybe I made her pose for this photo. Afterward she stood here for quite some time offering words of wisdom, as per usual, on life and love.

The plus in this very minus of a situation: there was lots of time for Miss D to ponder the future of this space. It looks mighty bright.

Hot Chocolate and the Charles River

Last night we stopped for hot chocolate. I got ice cream instead. Over hot chocolate and ice cream, we talked about Boston, the 1812 Overture and Sparkies. We drove home along Second Avenue while the windshield wipers tried to keep up with the raindrops.

When We Were Very Young

At the bank today, the teller called me "Ma'am."

Every so often I catch myself doing something I'm probably too old to do, like today at the grocery store. In a brief moment of youthfulness, I hopped on the back of my shopping cart and rode down the aisle. I had to stop when I rounded the corner and almost hit a young father and his son.

Last weekend at a wedding in Midway, when the DJ turned up K-Ci and Jo Jo, I was one step short of joining the conga line (full of teenagers). And sometimes at Young Women's, I forget I'm one of the leaders.

I guess there are worse things than singing so loud in the car you don't hear the fire engine coming. (Thank goodness for flashing lights.) And perhaps if no one sees you lick the spatula before slipping it into a sink full of suds no one will ever know.

But back to the grocery store today: As I was pulling out of the parking lot, an elderly man shuffled towards me. His gnarled knuckles held tight to the handle of his cart. In the rear view mirror I read his clenched lips: Now where's my car? He put one foot on the bottom rung of the cart and kicked up the other. As I pulled away he was happily sliding down the parking lot, hopefully in the direction of his car.

in the hollow of his hand

Yesterday we read in Isaiah. I think it will take me a lifetime to understand that book.

There are many things it will take me a lifetime to understand. Like why some people leave this earth so soon, or why others seem to take a while to get here. How healthy hearts can just stop beating. Why car breaks and marriages fail. That patience takes practice. How sometimes the best way to learn is to learn to listen. Or why the heart, with its capacity to make us feel so whole, can sometimes make us feel the opposite. And how the death of something, like a falling leaf or a falling star, can be so beautiful.

This summer I took a friend to a favorite spot to look at the stars. I promised an impressive view, but when day turned to night, clouds hovered, intent on dragging their heels across the horizon. I kept looking up in hopes they would hurry. My mood matched the meteorology until an hour or so later when the clouds cleared. We stood so tiny under the tide of the Milky Way, and tried to connect the dots. There were so many stars our eyes hurt. Comprehending something so big is like trying to cup the universe in your hands.

Who hath measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, and meted out heaven with the spam and comprehendeth the dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance?

And I will bring the blind by a way that they knew not; I will lead them in paths they have not known: I will make darkness light before them, and crooked things straight. These things will I do unto them, and not forsake them.

One thing I do know, something I am slowly beginning to understand: As vast and incomprehensible as life and the universe which surrounds it can seem, the single most important thing to the shepherd of us all is the worth of an individual soul.

Arches

I'm sure you've heard:
It's all about shades of grey these days.
Loving these two interiors, especially the arches.

Dreaming of cozy spaces,
listening to Brooke Fraser (thanks, Liv)

and studying Mr. Newton's Laws.

If I had some free time, I'd be perusing all of these today.

{images}

Sometimes

Sometimes I can't handle the cuteness...

So we have a pre-dinner photo shoot wherein I take
about 30 photos of this little one.

singing in the

There's something to be said for someone who will sing to you on the other end of the phone. (It's a bonus if they get you to sing back.)

Update

Still no furniture (the bar stools in the kitchenette are from upstairs), but here's the finished build-out of the basement I've been working on.
Here are photos when we were "in the thick of it," a while back.

The bookshelves in the hall have already been put to good use.We took a break for the summer (and because I
decided to go back to school)
but we'll be back in full swing in a few weeks. More photos here.

go straight passed the lake

In a small town, behind the butcher's counter in a grocery store, a boy puts on a white apron. He cuts two big pieces of prime rib, nice and thick.

Down in the valley, the smell of barbecued steak wafts through an open door. On the table are fresh tomatoes. And cookies for dessert.

and come home in the evenin'

Just when she thought she knew everything about him, he'd sing Carrie Underwood word for word on the way to breakfast. Or he'd cue Angel From Montgomery when she walked through the door. Or, up in the mountains, amid aspen trees and a running river, he'd grill her a cheeseburger. He knew the perfect ratio of ketchup to mustard. And to hold the onions.

Once they got in trouble for laughing during the symphony. They couldn't help it; they could rarely stifle their laughter in inappropriate situations.

Just give me one thing
That I can hold onto
To believe in this living
Is just a hard way to go

for my mother

All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.
|Abraham Lincoln|

happy birthday, mom

Saturday morning, it was snowing in the Uintas

I promised I would post these...

...and I'm a girl who keeps her promises.

Once upon a time...

This little lady got herself married.
(Once upon a time we were roommates in a yellow brick house.)

The wedding was lovely. There were flowers. And singing. And cake.
And a tandem bike ride away from Temple Square.
Congratulations, Andersons!

Observations from a Physics Class

The Vanilla Wafer boy, the one who skateboards from the bus stop to class in gray shoes with no laces, brought Skittles this week. Green are his favorite.

As a lead-in to a lecture on momentum, our professor asked who likes golf. I wanted to raise my hand. The guy from Texas, the one who got 100 percent on the test, is a golfer.

My professor had eight pens in his shirt-front pocket: five green Pilot G2's and three Bic fine point. I counted them when he came up the aisle to make fun of a dude wearing a USC sweatshirt. The pens sit in front of his calculator, the one he got for seven dollars at Kmart. The one he takes everywhere, including church -- in case he needs to know the acceleration of an object, like a church program paper airplane in free-fall towards the the widow with the purple hair. Or the roll away Cheerio set free by a two year-old running down the aisle, much to the chagrin of his mother, who next week, will hopefully pack Rice Chex. They can't roll.

I spent the majority of class reading poetry and watching the green to red Skittles ratio remain relatively equal, one red for every green. (I like the red best). The remainder were eaten by the handful before we parted for our next class.

Confession

One of my professors makes fun of blonds (even dudes) and people from Texas. It's hilarious and everyone knows he's kidding.

I don't do dumb things very often. However yesterday I did something really dumb. Embarrassingly dumb. In front of a new group of friends. Within seconds, hundreds of people knew. Truly, hundreds. It could be because it's been a while since I've done something extremely stupid. Or because of the late hour.

After all was said and done though, I laughed harder than I've laughed in, oh, let's say a year. I'm pretty sure I pulled a muscle. Kathryn called it the sleepover kind of laughing. All the embarrassment was swallowed up in laughter (and the ensuing encores of laughter, which lasted until 1:30 am.)

book nook eulogy

They moved my favorite section in the bookstore. It's not completely the end of the world, only sort of. The art section used to flow into the architecture section and from there formed a rivulet into books on interior design. It was this seamless coming together of all things beautiful, an endless ocean of inspiration.

Up a story, I'd build a top-heavy skyscraper, removing books one level at a time. I was uninterrupted, minus the ambitious do-it-yourself-er who would wander over into interior design only to find that the measure twice cut once sort of books were on a different set of shelves.

Now I have to trudge through periodicals and the buy-one-get-one-free table only to arrive next to the Cafe where a girl in workout gear sips espresso and reads Shape. Then there's the dude in a fly fisherman's vest checking out the travel guide to Montana. In the section about making a house a home, I feel rather homeless.

The bright side: Sometimes I'm not so fond of escalators...

i'm always in this twilight

I took the stars from my eyes, and then I made a map
And knew that somehow I could find my way back
Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too
So I stayed in the darkness with you.

|florence and the machine|