chinchilla.

Colby agreed to watch her cousin's pet Chinchilla, the aptly named Chilly, over at our house while their family is on vacation.



...a certain person had waaaaaay more energy and enthusiasm for this prospect than either Colby and I combined. And it's pretty darn cute.

half-begun writing attempts circa college freshmen kate.

Where Bay brushes her teeth. Fully relishing the act. Squeezing the tube with a carefully practiced technique for a generous, thick line of paste that balances perfectly upon the bristles. She brushes with zest and vigor; no pearly white surface left untouched, foam forming at the corners of her mouth. A swipe of the tongue added for good measure. And then she spits. Quickly swishing her mouth with a mug of tap water that had been prepared beforehand, waiting at the ready.

The view is a charming one. A small, white bathroom with inconvenient corners. A tall, honey-blond with her back to you. Cascading loose curls, tied up into a hasty bun at the top of her head. Oversized t-shirt advertising some sort of yearly jazz festival, ending at the very edge of light pink underwear and perfectly showcasing a pair of long legs. Finishing with bare feet on a butter yellow rug.

The lonesomeness that has loomed over the intricacies of Bay’s life explode in this quiet moment. That no one is here to take it in. The mundane chore of tooth brushing. The rug bought to simultaneously brighten a room and buffer the inevitable tile floor chill. Loneliness clings to every air particle.








***The names Bay and Nora are consistent favorites for characters.

half-begun writing attempts circa high school kate.

It’s summertime and Nora is speeding home from the Florissant, Missouri community swimming pool on her bike: a flash of classic red bathing suit, tanned, lithe limbs, a sheen of dark brown hair drying in the wind, and a blue beach towel fanning out behind her like a superhero.

She’s headed home to an apartment over an alterations business on Peachtree Street: cozy, with one bedroom for her mother and one for her, a shared bathroom, a living room, kitchenette, and balcony. She will spend the next few hours eating an apple while sprawled out on the couch reading, not even bothering to remove her swimsuit.

This lull in the middle of a hot July day would normally leave Nora feeling a little restless and empty, oppressed by an inescapable stretch of heat and boredom. But this summer was different. The last at home before leaving for college in Boston, Nora experienced random bursts of overflowing excitement enough to power her enjoyably through the day.












***I've been digging through a lot of half-begun writing attempts from high school and college on my computer, pretty entertaining stuff. An apartment over a business on Peachtree Street is so something I would have fantasized about at 17.

happy kate. can't wait.

sometimes i wonder what i'm gonna do/but there ain't no cure for the summertime blues.

A little food inspiration via Fashion Toast.

This happens to me at some point every summer,
Something about extreme heat makes me extra panicky...

We drive around in gas-guzzling cars. We're all obese. We eat Cheetos. We buy a lot of crap. We have hateful, spiteful politicians who make absolutely no progress. We have too much stuff to throw away, bags inside bags inside the box inside the bag. We have skewed priorities. We have journalists that hack into phones of murder victims. We have people that care an inordinate amount about the Casey Anthony trial. We have Christian fundamentalist terrorists who shoot kids at summer camp. Etc.

I don't want to spend my summers slugging from one air-conditioned building to the next. I want to hike in Wyoming, I want to bike the Palo Duro Canyon, I want to be able to walk outside at 2 in the afternoon...

At some point, I want to throw in the towel. Fall face down in the Walmart parking lot and melt into the black asphalt.

I think to fight this desire, I wake up at 5:30am and sleepwalk to a 6am spin class or make a beeline to the Y after work to run and run and run in place on the elliptical, because I've just absolutely, positively got to move.

If I keep moving, it can't get to me.

I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive.

I run away from Oklahoma. Run, run, run to Iceland or Costa Rica or straight into the ocean. Sandy desert and grass fires receding behind me as I finally reach that last patch of proverbial green clover.

Sometimes, around 8pm and absolutely not a second earlier, I'll roam the interconnected Oklahoma City neighborhoods, hop on my rickety bike or lace-up my running shoes, for the reassurance that a ton of people are out and about as well: walking their dogs or running or holding hands or rollerblading.

It's a comforting communion. To know that, in some small way, other people are feeling the oppression of the heat too. We're finding shared relief in the freedom of the sunset.

I come home with a mood much-improved, and happily chug a bottle of water.

a distant episode.

...the car followed the dusty trail down the canyons into air which began to smell of other things besides the endless ozone of the heights: orange blossoms, pepper, sun-baked excrement, burning olive oil, rotten fruit. He closed his eyes happily and lived for an instant in a purely olfactory world.

(Paul Bowles).

things i'd pay big money for: a beyonce concert.

(thanks meggie!).

magic.

Great anecdote:

My Aunt Barb is a psychiatrist in San Diego. She was seeing a patient who was very depressed, extremely sullen, lifeless, and uncommunicative.

After a couple of appointments, she came into a session looking completely changed: happy, glowing, talkative, alive...

My Aunt: "S0-and-so, you look great!"

So-and-so: "I've been reading Harry Potter!"

There are some things in life that are just purely good. Out to do harm to no one, only make the world a better place. And I believe these are:

1) Harry Potter.

2) Cat Deeley - the host of So You Think You Can Dance.

...when I say Harry Potter, I'm referring to the books first and foremost.

For me, the movies have always been a distant second and sometimes the commercial aspect is a little too obvious.

But I really do appreciate the chance to relive the books.

(And I love that Hedwig theme song).

Especially this last and final time.

Remembering reading it aloud in middle school to my sisters and Dad: grappling with the mouthful of a name like Hermoine, feeling the warmth of the Weasley home, the horror of a villain who can't be referred to by name, the power of a sorting hat, the mystery of a scar, the atmosphere of a Hogwarts made so completely real you desperately wanted to go there too, wispy beards and unassuming wands, butterbeer and chocolate frogs, pronouncing Snape as Snap and being heartbreakingly convinced of his goodness from the very beginning...

p.s. I will swear on a stack of Bibles that the absolute best thing you can do for your kids is read to them at night (thanks dad!).

i wish you were here.

Let's begin with this:

2011 Israel Protests

In June 2011, the rising price of cottage cheese in Israel, where the product is a staple, caused a nationwide uproar. Across the country, tens of thousands of Israelis organized on Facebook and boycotted the cheese in protest. The issue was even debated in the Knesset. The protest resulted in many of the major dairy producers, including Tnuva and the Strauss Group, reducing the cost of their cottage cheese.^[5] The protests coincided with the release of a Knesset report that food prices in the country rose 26% against a meager 2.6% rise in wages ^[6].

...Walker told me there were serious cottage cheese protests going on, which I brushed off until I found out it's Wikipedia official.

I also get to hear about spice markets in the old city that burn your eyebrows off upon entering them.

About hummus, lots and lots and lots of hummus. (Or homos as its called over there, which I find confusing). And pistachio-sprinkled pastries.

About the Arab bus system versus the Jewish bus system and what a sad state of affairs leads to this kind of a separation.

About this restaurant I would love in Nazareth.

About renting a nine-passenger van for a roommate roadtrip.

About the river people at the Sea of Galilee and the Jordan River.

About being packed inside Jesus' supposed tomb.

About a marketplace street party that's so Kate - where a trumpet band played Devil Went Down to Georgia in Jerusalem.

About the billions of street cats.

About missing fountain Cokes.

I get to hear that I would love it there.

I get to feel so lucky to be included.

My soundtrack for these stories:

The Sinister Minister, Béla Fleck.

Hate It Here, Wilco.

Ojos Así, Shakira.

Gold for Bread, Blitzen Trapper.

ring-a-ding. ding.

This is purely because I think these rings are awesome.

And I'm feeling super fashion-y lately. Blame Meg's visit or my new frames or the fact that I'm obsessed with Fashion Toast at the moment.

I also like the "my style" section over at Refinery29.

Sometimes when I've put together a particularly overwhelming to-do list, I like to add fun things at the bottom of it. Recent incomprehensible bottom of the list...

Aaron Copeland!

Frieda Kahlo!

More ponytails!

Experiment with eyeshadow!

Cinnamon bread!

Harry Potter!

p.s. I like this look at the NBA lock-out.

the fourth.

My weekend was perfect. Hipstamatic perfect.

Press close, bare-bosomed Night! Press close, magnetic, nourishing Night!

Night of south winds! Night of large, few stars!

Still, nodding Night! Mad, naked, Summer Night!

(Walt Whitman).