A weekend with the girls: girl-talk, giggling in our pajamas, getting lost, gorgonzola, good bread, going swimming. We went to the museum, drank Jamba Juice, bought Jelly Bellies, danced around, sang things in Target, and ate some serious pizza. It was one great slumber party.

Yeah. It’s grey and freezy. But this morning the sun came out and lit up the thick frost on the tall branches by the lake. I think I really dig January.

This month has not been the wildest month of my life. It’s been a simple month. Waking up and doing dishes. Serving coffee. Writing. Reading. Kissing. Talking with friends. Pleasant conversations. Sometimes I wonder if it’s even okay for me to work part-time and write. I could be making so much more money, earning so many credits right now. But I like the simple life I’m living so thoroughly. Is that even okay?

(of course it is)

This weekend, I’m off to Deerfield for a girls’ weekend while a dear, dear friend of mine gets a yoga instructing certificate. The men are going drinking. I’m so excited.

See you on the other side, friends.

I thought it might be time for a long over-due update on my work, on my writing.

Yesterday was spent on little homey things. I re-rearranged the bookshelf and picked up a box from Adam’s parents’ house that we had forgotten, and I had been missing very much.

There are lots of things I like about working in a coffee shop. But the thing I love most is slowly getting to know all the people there. I love beginning to recognize their faces and watching them begin to recognize mine. Then I begin to learn the drinks they order, if they take cream, what sort of roasts they like, what time they come in.

And then I learn their name. That’s the best part. And their name usually fits them just right and makes me smile when they leave. Because that’s Leif. And Ralph likes Ethiopian coffee. And that man’s daughter is Liliana Rose.

Learning these small things make my job at the coffee shop rich and wonderful. Are there things you love about your job?

Days off are such lovely things. I love waking up in the morning knowing that there is a blank day ahead of me that could be filled with anything. I love having the space to eat slowly, to get lost in writing, to walk in no particular direction.

Yesterday, on my day off, I walked in no particular direction and walked to the bridge. My head was full of “too many minds” as Jean would call it. I have always been a question-asker and a bit of a skeptic. I have skill enough to question myself into a hole (though I’m always pulled out of it eventually). Is this where I’m supposed to be? Is this what I’m supposed to be doing? Have I gone down some wrong road? Should Adam and I move to Romania? Maybe we should move to the wilderness with some friends and live a simpler life. Maybe we should move to Oconomowoc. Or Norway. Maybe we should start a sub-church that meets in a pub. Or get a new apartment.

And in those questions, I know that what I need is not an external change, but an internal one, but I can never manage to fix myself into the right frame of heart.

I pulled out my pipe, breathed the scent of the smoke, and let the bowl warm my fingers. The river was dark and quiet, and I thought about how Jesus said that he came to set us free. Where is the freedom in those thoughts? Where is the freedom in needing to fix myself all the time?

I remembered something I have learned and lost more than once: that God has my heart and my life. I don’t need to fix myself or find the right place. God is my shepard. He’ll take care of me and move me and change me always.

some things are worth posting twice

(a journey from a to b by badly drawn boy, a song which was entirely perfect today)

I’m beginning to settle into 2008. Scribbling away at my desk. Serving coffee. Reading books. Doing laundry. Seeing friends. Walking places. Walking home.

The sun made an appearance today after a long, foggy abscence, and everyone at the shop and on the street seemed a little bit brisker for it. As much as I have enjoyed watching people with their umbrellas, it’s nice to see.

I am enjoying sweet routine these days. Sweet routine and sweet reflection. I feel lucky to live, today, in a little world that is filled with words, stories, Badly Drawn Boy, my Adam, my friends, heaps of good food to fill my belly, the faces at the coffee shop, and piles and piles of laundry.

Today I feel very rich.

When Adam first suggested it, I was strongly opposed. I feel like it takes away a books individuality or something. It seemed unloving to the books. Or disrespectful. If I published a book, I wouldn’t want to see it on a colour coordinated shelf. I’d want to see it coffee-stained and jostled around in a purse or sitting by a bedside. But I figured, why not? I can always disorganize them again.

I have to say, it looks pretty neat (way neater than the picture suggests). And reorganizing the books was rather satisfying. It was like a puzzle. It got me better aquainted with my husband’s half of the books and made me see my own books in a different way.

It was a nice project. I should reorganize bookshelves more often. Any suggestions on how to arrange them the next time around?

Welcome to 2008, everyone! How was your New Year? How was your old year? Yesterday, I didn’t fill my pages with words and lists about years to come and years past. I haven’t felt the urge to reflect, yet (though I did make a photoset of last year), and I haven’t wanted to chart and scribble at the future. I have just wanted to sit in these days. To enjoy the smell of roasting apples eminated around the room. To steep in the warmth of friendship. To steep some tea.

I have loved to just lie down on the floor with Hannah and Janelle and play with each other’s hair and tell secrets like we have so many times before. To lend Ben a book. To fall asleep with Adam’s arm around me. To celebrate sushi. To eat breakfast in a warm kitchen with my parents. To paint a notecard. To pray. To buy a new book and read it with Katrina. To build legos with my husband. To hold Eliot. To drink water.

Some days, this life and this Love remain remarkable to me, and even the frost on my window whispers words of care and beauty.