A man came into the shop, yesterday.

There is a man that comes into the coffee shop in the afternoons. He has grey hair, a soft voice, a small rosy smile, and in the winter, a big leather hat. He asked me how I was doing, and I confided with a laugh that I was very grumpy that day. I asked him how he was.

“Not the best, but, I’m good at pretending.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Well, you’ve got to pretend to be who people want you to be to make it in this world…

-short silence-

Don’t you think so?”

“I don’t think I’m old enough to be that jaded.”

What do you think?

My silly husband upgraded my website by accident.

Hi, everyone. i haven’t gotten around to blogging much these last couple days. Nor taking pictures. But we are in our new place, and I’m thrilled to say that we are sharing it three days of the week with one of my best friends. Living with Janelle and Adam: it’s like a dream come true. Our things are slowly finding their way out of boxes onto the shelves. Plants are being put in the windows. Futons are being assembled. Lamps are being plugged in.

I don’t know why I never liked August. It’s such a bountiful time of year. I feel nourished by the good books around me and the presence of friends. I feel nourished by the late-summer vegetables, early autumn apples, and the birds outside my window nibbling at a tree’s hard fruits.

Coffee-shop customers have been asking if I’m taking classes this fall. I usually tell them that I’m done with school, for now. I know they probably assume that I graduated, but I don’t really feel deceptive. I really feel like I finished school. I didn’t go for a degree or security or a job. I went to throw myself in the academic world, to bury myself in books and soak up knowledge like there was no tomorrow. And I did that. And I loved that. But now, I want to do something else. I want to see live from the smaller corners, from the chalk-covered overgrown sidewalks of my neighborhood, rather than the fine steps of the university.
In this sun-soaked month, I am learning to recognize a lot of things in myself. Since I was little, there were only two things that I have ever really wanted to do: write and travel. I think it’s time to enjoy that about myself, rather than suppressing and then binging on it. I can’t share what I’ve been given very well without welcoming it.

So, happy August, dear readers. Feel free to share things you’ve been recognizing in yourself or even just whether or not you like August. You know I love to hear from you.

It wasn’t the best apartment, but it was home, our first home together.

Most of the time it was messy and it got so hot in the summer and “three chord” was always playing his three chords on his guitar. He got much better by the end of the year. So did we.

Now, a new year, a new apartment, a new book to write.

Photos from our new place tomorrow when we move in and begin making another new place home.

Keely asked what other jobs I could see myself doing. I’m glad she asked, because I think I’ve learned a lot about what sort of work I enjoy this year. As a kid, a teenager, a young adult, I liked to daydream about doing different jobs. I wanted to be a marine biologist, a doctor in Africa, a great professor. But I’m beginning to see that I don’t like grand jobs fixed in grand systems. I like work that is small and solitary, but still creates and connects with people. I like using my hands and my words. I like jobs that feel like giving little gifts.

So other than my work writing or pouring good cups of coffee, here are some other jobs I could see myself doing:

-Woodwork. I could see myself enjoying carving small things like pipes or treasure boxes.

- I could own a little shop that sells little somethings people can sit with inside (perhaps edible or drinkable).

- I could see myself being a shepherdess. Or a goose girl.

-I could see myself being a potter.

What are some jobs you could see yourself doing?

I spent most of this morning going through clothes and doing laundry, deciding what to take with us on our move and what to leave behind.

Contents of closets are spilled out on the floor with box after empty box.