reading with my boys / portrait by blue lily photography. / p.s. did you see this post?!
first of all, i may never post an ordinary photo ever again. these blue lilies are my new faves. i'm getting over feeling awkward about seeing myself in photos. at least trying to. admittedly my hair is going through a phase (as per usual), but still, the shots are so lovely; the light, the colors, the scenery. and i'm so happy i slapped on some nail polish while driving up the canyon! most of all i'm so happy with the way they have captured up benji's joyous spirit. and i rarely get a glimpse of all three of us together. i'll share the best of the bunch and more details about the session in a later post. i promise.
and i also promise to show you pictures and give deets about our house. i know some of you are eager beavers. which makes me glad. (for now i'll say this, i have a basement studio area full of boxes; a room ready for serious potential. and there are muscular trees with beefy limbs for climbing and a patch of rhubarb growing like crazy in the backyard. whit is in the process of making us her famous pie!) i just have to clear out some space on this beloved mac to upload my pictures of four months worth of memories and girth. it's going to be a major upload of our wacky activity-filled (transient) summer. how wonderful everyone has been to host our family as we transitioned. i learned so much and laughed so much. i even caught strep throat (the day we closed on our house!) and then gave it to my nieces. what an awesome house guest i am. i learned a lot about running a household from my mother-in-law and sisters. it was nice to have a glimpse of life in another housewife's shoes. what worthwhile wonderous work housewifery is (i'm not just saying that. i really believe it). i have craved it. and now, i must say, ahhh, to. be. home. it feels so good to hear the whir of my own dishwasher. to have cooked a pot of soup on my own stove. to have a routine again. to have to-do lists going (like mad) on the fridge and ideas for preschoolery for benji. to go grocery shopping and fill up the shelves. it's the little things. i hope i never take for granted the feeling of having a place to nestle up in.
onto the part about the book i'm devouring. my cousin spoiled me with thirty fabulous little gifts for my birthday (sweetest idea ever!) and included a book she'd spotted on my wish list pinterest board (genius!). (i had pinned it because the caption / book report had me at hello.) so i started reading it when we had our getaway last week. while benji napped in the hotel room, i read on the bed. and forced myself not to feel guilty about doing nothing. knowing full well i wouldn't have time to read once the boxes were unsealed in the new place (i was right).
a homemade life by molly wizenberg. molly is the author of orangette, a wildly famous foodie blog that i've only slurped up sporadically with a spoon. after realizing what i've been missing, i'll be drinking her blog down with loud from-the-milk-carton gulps. it's a book i like so much, i even read the acknowledgement page(s), and smiled a lot. a few pages in, i immediately wanted to blog about it and text my sisters about it (done and done). good think i don't facebook or twitter, my life would be c-c-c-crazy.
molly is completely geuine and her recipes are bona fide (plenty of descriptions and not overly dramatic with ingredients you've never heard of; perfectly relatable to the everyday cook). she gives flexible options like stating it's okay if you don't want to buy a heart-shaped mold. she is terribly likable if not lovable. i read her paragraphs about the eighties (shoulder pads and mullets) aloud to dan and wanted to tear out the whole chapter about prunes and send it, with love, to my dad (he's a huge fan of wrinkly prunes). but i stopped myself. knowing i ought to buy my folks a copy. it's a memoir mingling with recipes and family memories that remind you somehow of your own family memories. which is why i wish i'd written it or, more truthfully, am inspired to write my own version of memoirs (sans the being raised in oklahoma and amazing, swoony paris adventures). while reading her pages, i'm immersed in her language of cookery and envisioning reels of her growing years (in the kitchen) and still manage to silently scold myself for my lack of writing practice. i love love love when you read a book and you simultaneously want to write a book. that, my friends, is when i know i love a book. i've dog-eared eleven recipes already and i'm not even finished with it. next time i'm moaning about little writing inspiration, please remind me of this book. i'll be keeping it neatly lined up with my cookbooks (that is, after i force my sisters to borrow it and read it immediately so we can discuss it as true sisters must do).
read more about molly on her about page.