Disclosures of Happiness

Full disclosure: I took this photo at 10:30 this morning.  Luckily for me, while Wendy's doesn't serve breakfast, it does open at 10:00.  Thanks goodness.

The Wendy's in the city I grew up in was far away.  I don't even know if it was technically in our city.  And it was in kind of a shady neighborhood.  I think I can safely say that, until college, I had never eaten at a Wendy's.

Then, I went to college, and met Annie, and got the Wendy's education of a lifetime.

Annie would pick Carey and myself up at the Showtime Studios (jazzhands) after Movement for Theatre with Hyrum, then we would stop at Horkley's for 44oz sodas (69 cents!), getting an extra one for Omar to excuse us being late for Reader's Theatre (he liked diet Dr. Pepper with a shot of red cream soda).  Then, after class, we would pile back into Annie's car and head to Wendy's.  This was in the salad days when the Biggie fries and Biggie drink were still on the dollar menu (the good old days, amiright, Annie?).

And then, at the end of the semester, I was like, why my jeans so tight?  

Weight gain aside, I love Wendy's.  Being inside of one reminds me of sitting in a sunny booth on what was, I'm sure, a freezing cold day, and talking talking talking with my best gals.  These were important times; the beginnings of my happiest times.  Because being understood, laughing, and eat JBCs makes me really happy.

#GardenClub

I have always have a million tabs open on my laptop.  I like to have music playing in the background while Edie and I hang out.  Even when I'm writing my thesis, I sometimes have to take a break to investigate what is really going on with Amanda Bynes (but for real, what is?).  The loss of our ability to single-task has been addressed adddddddd nauseum by everyone (maybe even by Amanda Bynes), so, I won't start down that road.

But, I will say that I love to hang out in my backyard.  Just me and Edie and the bugs.  We might add some cucumbers to our little party, but, one day at a time.

1. James bought this for me upon my return from Ragnar with a note that stated, matter-of-factly, that I was the best runner in the universe.  Despite our non-tropical temperatures, he's doing fine.
2.  Edie helps out.
3.  Basil is in and blooming.  And already been useful in salmon burger saucing.
4. My aloe plant, my one remaining Brooklyn buddy, was looking terrible, so I separated some babies and re-potted them.  I'm anxiously awaiting their flourishing.
5.  This was later in the day, when the sweater wasn't required.  Finally, spring.
 

East Coast Carnival Atmosphere

We wandered over for fried dough, specifically.  The line for the Zipper was surprisingly long, and comprised only of teenagers.

We walked over to the bank to get more cash for the carousel  but ended up getting ice cream and sitting in the park instead.  Either way, it was cool and damp and as lovely as a spring evening.

Sun-Bathed Record Keeping

We live in a time that is- interestingly - very conducive to record keeping.  There are a million ways to keep track of your life, your habits, your events.  I've always felt that journal keeping is way undervalued, and also under-thought.  I keep a journal, but I also keep daily planners from years past.  I love my Doogie Howser-like journal entries, but just as much I love reading through my to-do lists from college, including "kiss James" from sometime in 2002 (check, by the way).

I love reading through papers I wrote in college and old grocery lists on the back of scribbled recipes.  Because, the thing about memory is, you were there.  You don't need the whole event spelled out as if you weren't, so half-thoughts posted as status updates four years ago jumpstart memory and start to act as a journal entries.

I just think it's funny, in this age of detachment and a-synchronous communication, we are better equipped than ever to record our lives. And, I know, there's lots of noise out there about how we edit.  How we only take photos of the good parts, and leave out the messy hair and disappointing lunches, but, I don't know.  I don't think that's such a terrible thing.  Because who are we recording for?  I can only speak for myself, but I record for myself.  So, I don't edit as much as choose how and what to remember.

Maurice Sendak once said that raising a child should be the most creative work you ever do.  I think a lot about this.  In the context of Edie, but also just about the paradigm shift implicit in that statement.  It's easy to believe our lives are monotonous and banal.  Shouldn't it be just as easy and as realistic to believe they are eventful, lovely, and sunbathed?

Brimfield

Brimfield is this giant, sprawling, labyrinthine antique fair that goes on three times a year.  We kind of ended up there kind of my accident last fall, and vowed to go again.  Chelsea and I trekked out with Edie, while James stayed behind and ate a handi-snack pudding.

 It's pretty strange, well, less strange more brainwash-y.  Like, you walk in thinking, hey, let's have a fun day, and then, the next moment you're like, someday I'm going to wish I had those Music Man band costumes.  I will hate myself for not buying them.

The bottom two pieces are Chelsea's finds.  She's got a great eye, and has the patience to just look, which I rarely do.  It's why I like to shop with her.

I ended up with a few awesome things myself, but, in reality, I think I spent 50% of my money on snacks.  I got a pilgrim sandwich (turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce), ice cream and sweet potato fries for Edie (it was a holiday), and kettle corn for all of us.

It was awesome.  We all came back tired, sticky from the kettle corn, and happy with our day.  But I am kicking myself for not getting those band costumes.

Three Victors

Congratulations, Ana, Candice Jenkins, and Stacey.

So, I basically hate doing giveaways, because I just want everyone to win.  And, everyone needs new music.  Ana, Candice, and Stacey, you'll get this first round, but, as James keeps making them (and he will), I'll will try to fill everyone's musical needs this summer.  Again, they're mixes (over which I have no copyright, by the by), so, no promises, but, everyone will have some new summer jams.

Okay, ladies, send me your address at valerietown(at)gmail(dot)com.

If New York Loves Me, I Think Massachusetts Hates Me

It might have something to do with the fact that I still haven't learned to spell it.  One way or the other, the temperature dropped . . . again.  I went running this morning in 40 degree weather.  FORTY DEGREES.  Like a Canadian or something.  It just seems unfair.

See you soon, California.