So...

This morning I woke up thinking that I already do do beautiful things. Eric and I were talking the other day, while we watched the snow fall for hours, about how we both cry at the silliest things. The things that are so beautiful that they're overwhelming and heartaching. Nietzsche, Heidegger, Gadamer, etc., talk about beauty and the artist as possessing this superabundance that never exhausts itself, a constant giving that overwhelms its vessel. The language is more than a little sexual, but I think it's true. Something that cannot be qualifed or quantified and I can't wrap my arms around and sometimes I feel like I'm going to explode into laughter and tears. It's not sentimental or nostalgic, though. It's more than that. The past few weeks have been like that.

I realized the other morning that I'm going to be twenty-five. Yikes. And that I've had my closest friends for ten years now. Yikes, in the most positive way. To spend New Year's with them was the best possible start. Everyone sitting around the kitchen table like they're supposed to. Wine and fist-pounding (the philosophical, not Jersey Shore way) and sewing and bowling. And laughter.



I was in St. Louis and Columbia earlier this week and I didn't manage to take any pictures, but I think it was for the best. When I was Eric, it was so much like (gosh!) five years ago and hanging out in his room, listening to Django and shivering. I was so much more comfortable with myself this time, though, and so much more comfortable with him. I'm happy with the person I've become. Re-membering ftw! The pork belly sliders didn't hurt, either. Rachel and I went to Bread Co. and saw a gaggle of CJ girls and though I feel like only one summer has passed, it's been so much more. More heartache, more beauty. Dinner with Michael and I speak my mind. Dinner at Brasserie filled with beautiful, seemingly unpretentious people, and Michael teases me about saying that I'm homesick for Germany. Bordeaux is apparently the best migraine treatment ever. I can't stop laughing.

I spent today doing beautiful things. It's bitterly, bitterly cold outside. I stayed in and baked and sewed and horsed around with Ken. I don't get to spend as much time with him as I'd like, so I'm glad for this past week. My mom worked from home today and kept me company in the kitchen. When I was kneading the dough, I realized how much more my hands are beginning to look like my mom's. There were more flurries and the light was so pretty. I want to buy some paperwhites as soon as I get to Decatur. Only two days to go. I made these potholders for my mom. My sewing machine is jacked up, so I couldn't use my walking foot. The potholders aren't as tidy as I'd like, but my mom loves them. The house smells wonderful and I can't get enough of the light.


This brooch was Grammy's, my dad's mom. I was tiny when she died, so I never got to know her, but I've been told I bear a lot of resemblance to her. It's the eyebrow. I love this piece and I've been wearing it more frequently. Grammy had good taste.



2010 = Joy. And beauty. And play. Big time.

I want to be doing beautiful things.

2009