reading children’s and young adult novels takes me down memory lane. no doubt it does for you as well. i was an avid and prolific reader as a child, i remember going to the library and cleaning out entire shelves, opening them up at the counter so the librarian could scan and stamp them with the due date, and carting them all home proudly in my pink canvas guess bag. i would them proceed to devour them the moment i returned home, gleefully writing down each title i finished on my reading log. i knew i would receive great praise from my teachers once they saw the list. that little show off, they must have thought to themselves.

from beverly clearly to laura ingalls wilder, brian jacques to madeline l’engle, i’ve got most of the classics covered. my friends and i recently decided that we’d start a children’s book club. it would be our chance to reread our favorites from childhood together. i dont know if our discussions will center around nostalgia or something more serious.  forget the regurgitation of the plot in form of a book report. themes, impressions, allusions instead, please. we decided to begin with the classic author-illustrator team of roald dahl and quentin blake. remember them?

and… of course, the one that made me question all my teachers:

what were your favorite children’s novels? do you still enjoy reading them as much as you did when you were a kid?

my interior design attitude is very personalized. everyone likes different things. what i tend to dislike about ID is how it’s usually always the picture of perfection. really, are you telling me that people live with gleaming mirrors, curtains that are just so drawn, perfectly placed accent pillows and throws, without nary a clutter in sight on their various surfaces day in and day out? does everyone have ready access to palm fronds strategically placed in glass on their dining table 24/7? it’s impossible. design should be more organic than that, more messy, more akin to what real life is all about. and it should be personal instead of sterile.that’s why HGTV often exasperates me.

today i was introduced to something i think is absolutely brilliant (thanks, mike). and totally goes hand in hand with what i was talking about before. it’s called ideapaint, the 21st century’s version of the family whiteboard, but more eco-friendly, better designed (whiteboards tend to be pretty aesthetically unpleasing), and is fraught with potential for creativity.

i can see the kids being huge fans. hello, who didn’t want to draw on the walls as a kid? and it one day becoming an interior design staple.

plus it’s not confined to use in the home. it’d kick ass in schools. and be useful in the work place, too. all one has to do is get used to drawing/painting on the walls. sure, it could also get messy. but life is messy. and if it drives you bonkers, just erase! i can see novels being written on walls. yes, i can. novels, art, declarations of love, this may even revolutionize what happens on bathroom stalls!

all images found on ideapaint

what sorts of things do you think you’d use it for?

go forth and get creative!

dear baby griffin,

welcome, beauitful boy! you have been much anticipated these past months. i have been texting your mama everyday for the past couple weeks, annoying her to no end to see how she’s feeling, wondering when you’re going to make your arrival. you see… your mom, the lovely ms. erin hoffrance, is a very kindred spirit, one of those friends for life kind of deals. i’ve known her since before she was even married to your awesome dad, bill. she and i were partners in crime at work, i couldn’t stay away from her. so much so that i got a talking to because i was always hanging around laughing at her desk instead of working at mine. oops. but i dont care, friendship is worth any berating from HR. and over the years i’ve watched her with amazement, this awsome mother of yours. she got married and looked so incredibly beautiful on her wedding day. she’s taken initiative and been brave enough to find jobs that suited her and treated her with the respect she deserved. she went back to grad  school, even though she was still working. and you know what? she still found the time to hang out with her friends and come to all my parties. this is how great of a person she is.  it’s just because your mom is a hard working, responsible, organized, and driven woman who is capable of going after what she wants and excelling at it. and a wonderful friend to boot.

i remember the day she told me that she was going to have you! i’m sure the look of astonishment on my face made her laugh. from the very get go, there has been nothing but excitement and love for you, baby griffin. you’ll see photos one day of the baby shower we threw for your parents. you’ll delight over the hungry caterpillar cupcakes we made.

maybe all the aunties could make them with you once you’re a little older and capable of wielding a stirring spoon? sounds like a fun afternoon rainy day project to me! then we can read and pour over eric carle before moving onto the multitudes of other books we got for you so that you’ll become an avid reader just like your mom, the librarian, the rock star. she was so eager to meet you, you know? she kept saying, i cant wait to meet the little guy. and look! here you’ve come. all beautiful, 5 pound 3 ounces of you. just like me when i was born in fact. i haven’t even seen a photo of you yet, but no matter, i know you’re perfect. and as your mom says… i cant wait to meet the little guy. hey, that’s you!

i cant wait to hold you and smile over you. i cant wait to tell you stories that we make up and stories of your parents. i cant wait to watch you grow, take photos of you, dress you up in all manner of cute outfits. i cant wait to hear about you going to school, helping you with homework, taking you to the park, and just watching you be you. i cant wait to watch you eat ice cream and chocolate cake, to celebrate your first, second, third, many, many endless birthdays where we’ll have fun and watch you blow out the candles and unwrap your gifts. prepare to be spoiled, little griffin. for you have many aunts (and uncles) who fell in love with you from day one. last night as we were waiting for news from your parents, your auntie erin and auntie hilary, and i were chatting non-stop on the phone about how excited we were. we even made up a song. your aunt hilary will tell you all about it. it’s true, your aunties can be quite silly, but that is a good thing.

griffin, you’re here! and that is the most important thing. we will all be watching the world now from your eyes. and with you, we will find magic in each and every day.

xoxo,

auntie cindy

summer days melt like butter over high heat rather than sitting patiently in a dish at room temperature. i know neither where they have gone nor from where they came. it is apparent that my heart is not in my blog at this moment in time. mostly it’s because i get tired of myself from time to time. you know this feeling? when you’re so fully you that the last thing you want to do is continue to think about and writing about you.

i’m not exactly feeling itchy or restless. i suppose i’m indulging myself by being in a steady state of wonder & ponder (incidentally, i’d like to see that as a name for a pub) instead of being in the thick of all the action. my mind is on summer vacation, my spirit seeks tranquility with a nice dose of adventure conducted in my imagination. though i’d really rather get lost in the words of others than tangled within my own.

image by jenny downing

a couple months back i received an unexpected email from someone i admire asking me if i’d be interested in a little project. that little project turned into a medium sized project and then before i knew it, it had become a very large project. and today, on the first of july, the large project has finally launched and is ready for the world.

i’d like to introduce you to someone. someone very special and dear to me. it combines two things that have transcended the fickleness of time and remain fascinating to me. the first is writing. the second is travel.

it’s an online magazine that pulls art and thought from people, wanderlusty people, presented in the most appropriate of no boundary mediums, the online gathering space where anyone from anywhere can flock. we publish poetry, photography, short pieces of fiction, feature articles, and columns that center around your, mine, his, her, their wanderlust.  stories, experiences, tangible, intangible, that deep-seeded and insatiable desire, it’s all there. come explore with us. bookmark and subscribe to us on the site, on twitter or facebook, pass on the good word and join this community of people who are moved by travel and have no qualms of talking about it. for our travels, even when solitary, find life in the way it teaches us to grasp the outer edges of our worldview and forces us to open up and let all manner of people and places in, embracing ourselves and then one another.

and if you feel so inclined, jump in and tell us your stories and thoughts in our weekly SoundOffs. or better yet, submit one of your pieces for publication. and finally, if you have an idea you’d like to spin to me for a longer length feature article, please, please do not hesitate to email me directly. i look forward to hearing from all of you or the very least, seeing your bright and shining faces in this corner of the world, ready to wander.

here in florida…

• i know only one
• the sun shines relentlessly, making me wilt and feel defeated
• i spend many hours on my own, thinking, writing, reading, observing
• people walk slower, everyone is tan, many are blonde
• good coffee and humanitarian focused cafes are found
• everyone drives, everyone
• i dream of beaches and the ocean
• it is lush with vegetation, bursting with life
• i am torn between home and where my heart is

this was scheduled to post on father’s day, but obviously it didnt, so here it is now…

most people assume i have parents. plural. when in fact i only have one parent. mom. it’s fine, i can’t expect anyone to just know that my dad passed away when i was 16. grandparents perhaps many of you no longer have. but parents? most people’s parents are still around. but then again, we should never assume these things, right? right.

admittedly, since i had to undergo the complete shocking death experience (he passed away as unexpectedly as they come), i have a complete fascination with blogs that also muses, despairs, or simply and bluntly speaks on the topic of death and loss. i don’t often know exactly what it is their words give to me. all i know is that it speaks to me. i admire them for being able to talk about it. i admire them for sharing. it’s interesting to me that death can be such a bonding experience, especially for those who have gone through it, that it brings people who may otherwise be utter strangers to be coaxed into talking about something so personal, so painful, so heartbreaking.

i suppose we humans are in search of answers all the time. even more, we search for others to relate to us. but why strangers? why semi-anonymously? i honestly am more comfortable talking about death with strangers than i am with my own sister and mother. i know, it’s sad right? but it’s still true. and don’t think the knowledge of that doesn’t eat away at my guilty conscience all the time. i went to 3 therapy sessions 10 years after the passing of my dad. in one of those sessions, the therapist pointed out to me that i had lost my mother the same day my dad ceased to exist in his bodily form. i thought about what she said for a microsecond and could not help but agree with that statement. i guess we are never truly the same after experiencing the loss of a most beloved person.

in my heart of hearts, of course i’ll always have parents. plural. just because my father is no longer reading in his beatup old chair that my mother not so secretly wanted to take to the dump or writing the most beautiful calligraphy i have ever seen in his study doesnt mean that i only have a mom. i think of him every time i see bus 71 by my house, the one he took every single day to work and back home again. i see him in my sister and in myself whenever one of our stubborn streaks rise. i think of what he would most likely say when one of the dogs barfs on the carpet [insert expletives here].

just so you know, that old chair is now firmly ensconced in my bedroom where my own reading corner is… i doubt it’ll ever make it to the dump now. i dont believe in heaven and i certainly dont believe in hell. i know i’ll never see him again in either place. but that doesnt mean he will ever cease to exist as my father. i will forever be his daughter after all.

i don’t mean to be morbid, but it’s father’s day and i still want to say honor my dad on this day, in spirit at least. here, to strangers, in a semi-anonymous way. maybe it’s just too hard in person.

as for the heartache, the harder it aches, the more love there was? is? i choose is.

when you’re preparing to jet off somewhere, what are the things that make it with you all the way to your seat?

here are my necessities:

1. agua 2. something to keep me warm 3. book 4. you never know when inspiration might hit

i said i was taking a break and here i am, feeling compelled to share with you what i found in my inbox this morning. i subscribe to very few newsletters because like magazines, i rarely have the time to read them. but the one i do look forward to everyday is the writer’s almanac where i get a little poem dropped into my inbox along with interesting tidbits of information on well known and obscure writers alike. it’s my daily dose of literature and word wonder. because somedays, i cannot get it any other way. today’s was a true gem. for those of you who read ulysses by james joyce, here is a passage from that massive book in a new light. and for those of you who have not, perhaps it will inspire you to read the book now. for listen to the beauty that lies in these words.

“O and the sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the

glorious sunsets and the

figtrees in the Alameda gardens yes and all the queer little streets and pink and blue

and yellow houses and the rosegardens and the jessamine and

geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as a girl where I was a Flower of the mountain

yes when I put the rose

in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a

red yes and how

he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and

then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked

me would I yes to

say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him

yes and drew him

down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his

heart was going like

mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.”

moorish balcony by shapeshift

i started with nonstop sneezes during my adventure to padilla bay/snowgoose up in skagit valley saturday afternoon. i thought it was allergies, but it’s become a full blown cold. :( so forgive me my friends, i need to take a little break this week… it’s been a terribly busy june and i’m afraid i’ve finally run myself ragged. i’ll be blogging from super hot & humid florida soon (methinks the red eye flight will not help me feel better)! it’s time to visit mr. cubs, whom i’ve been missing most dearly.

more to come!

xo, c.