Lunch was tahini on cracker bread with tuna. Plus apples, which I added about halfway through.
Before that was housework, and writing, and the internet. After was more of the same, plus a walk.
There was a long-distance phone call, and linguistic explorations, frozen grapes and home-made ice cream.
Laundry, blogging, music, and dinner for two.
* * *
Took the IUD out; took the edge off. Now my Mondays are Mondays, and I’m fine with that.
And so we turn towards simplicity. Towards sanity and good health, and that means early morning runs and healthy, home-cooked meals, fewer vices and better sleep.
It means long walks and longer talks, checking in every morning, and after work, and before bed. It means facing our problems (for me: job stress and anxiety) head-on, rationally, and knowing the difference between a worthy challenge and a waste of time.
Most of all, a turn towards simplicity means a turn towards each other, and towards what really matters in life–our well-being, our friends and family, our passions and interests, and our sense of wonder, inspiration, creativity and drive.
And yesterday it meant epic shopping: new wardrobes for new jobs, plus bags of books to feed our hungry minds. It meant a day trip to Tokyo, a shopping field trip, with burgers and fries and iced coffee and frequent pauses to observe/avoid the madness, plus a Sunday stroll through the park, and big plans for the future.
* * *
It feels good to follow our own good advice.
~Tuesday, March 19th, 2013~
(Saint Etoile, Kaihinmakuhari)
“Breakfast in a ‘French-style’ bakery at the train station. The toast set includes a small salad of cabbage, lettuce, corn, tomato, and hard-boiled egg, topped with mayonnaise. But the toast is good–thick, like Texas Toast. Blueberry-grape juice makes for a surprisingly delicious combination. Tastes a bit like jam.
Ashtrays everywhere. Here, you can get a $20 ticket for smoking on the street (and Chad almost did, first thing yesterday morning), but you can smoke most anywhere, indoors. There are designated smoking areas in restaurants, even fast food joints.
Also everywhere: R&B music. Like right now, at the bakery, or yesterday at Mos Burger (where we ordered a tempura veggie burger with rice patties for buns). Except that I don’t recognize any of the songs. It’s like Japan has some never-ending reserve of obscure, 90s R&B jams. Reminds me of Perry.”
* * *
More to come, Friends. Always more to come.
~OR~
Pilgrims, Indians, and Knuckle Tatts
I am grateful for last minute plan changes and a positive, roll-with the punches attitude
For sister secrets and a partner in crime
For sweet treats and sweeter words, left on my doorstep
For arts, crafts, silliness and sparkles
For an overabundance of home-made and hand-crafted goodies, mugs of hot cider and jam jars of whiskey, endless laughter and smiles, apartments filled with dancing, and a feeling that I am exactly where I belong.
* * *
That is to say: I am grateful for my friends. They are the very best thing that’s ever happened to me.
…should always look like this.
And I am working on making that happen.
I think I may be losing my mind. Just a little. Just a slight slackening of my grip on reality.
I guess this is what happens when you go through a lot of change in a short period of time and think way too much about it. Or, at least, this is what happens to me under those circumstances.
Also what happens to me is that Espy and I skip book club in order to eat samosas and run into a goat tied up outside of a bar, like a mother fucking episode of Little Lulu.
Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction, Friends.
I have been working so much, Friends. Too much. Too much work, too much play, not enough Sarah Time, which (honestly) tends to just be Kitchen Time.
Sometimes you trick the system and wind up on a committee with money designated for nothing more than gardening and community building. So you toil away all summer and then throw a party, knowing full-well that the vast majority of your coworkers do not give a single shit, and you could care less, because it is Sunday and you get to hang out in the world’s coolest backyard, eating salsa and drinking beer and savoring the dregs of summer.
At the height of summer the sun was rising when my alarm woke me at six, light spreading across the valley as I biked to work in shorts and a t-shirt. Then each morning grew a little darker, a little more chill, and I began wearing my hoodie again, shadows chasing me as I sped downhill.
September came, and you could feel Fall on the wind, like a thought whispered, a slight breeze past your ear. The promise of crisp, clean air and burnt colors and crunch. And I was ready.
My library makes its own honey, then we eat it with crackers.
little sarah Big World 