I'm going away for ten days or so. À bientôt!

[PHOTOS BY SAMUEL]

Can you believe how things change, how seasons change? My life looks completely different than it did four months ago. And, four months from now . . .

A different hour of magic.

This was taken a couple weeks ago, when it was still cool enough to have the windows closed. Now I'm sitting here in my underwear, mixing cocktails to ease—or forget—the heat. There's something I like about the battle, about toughing it out, which I'm sure is a result of growing up in a rural town and watching movies and sitcoms played out in NYC.

It seems like something you do when you're young—a naïve thought, maybe, but I don't mind.

I worked from home one day last week, avoiding the trouble of traffic and protestors associated with the NATO Summit in Chicago. It was nice to move through the workday at my own pace, stopping to read a few chapters of a book, change out records, make some tea. Midday, though, I had an even better reason to take a pause—my very own aurora borealis.

Saturday.

The brewery threw a party on Friday night, where I served and drank, in honor of Chicago Craft Beer Week. It's summer here. I can feel it in my freckled, rosy cheeks, sitting in my apartment sans AC.

I want to send a big thank you to sunscreen and ibuprofen, for allowing this weekend to be so incredible.

I

. . . spent the morning with my coffee and the paper, and the afternoon with Victor in the garden. It was sunny and warm, which was a nice change from all the rain. 

. . . had a doctor's appointment last week for a general physical, just a check-up, but she has me thinking a lot about my mind and my body and how they feed off one another. I would love to learn more about the practice of meditation.

. . . officially canceled my CTA pass, meaning my 15-mile (roundtrip) bike commute is now an everyday thing. It's peaceful and liberating for the most part, using my own energy to get around.

. . . have so much work to do before my next big trip at the end of the month. I'm trying to stay on top of it, but you can catch my heart pounding if you listen closely.

. . . feel happy and proud and fortunate for so many things, but I'm always one for improvement.

Light through linen is just—to say it simply—it.

(On a similar note: did you ever see this, from my last apartment? Makes me want to open the windows and put on a record. I will.)

We removed the blinds and bars from all of our apartment's windows to open up the space, but I could never bear to close the Venetians anyway. To some it's a normal task, but to me it's choosing white plastic over trees and birds, and grass and bricks. (Sorry neighbors! I can't do it!) But, I'll miss these little interactions—loops, knots, and tangles, all in tandem.

Sweethearts of blinds.

Loafers and light.

I've moved on from pops of green to . . . green everywhere. Thanks to V & R's yard for the ferns.

Sunday, Earth Day, I got my bike out the door only to realize one of my tires was flat. Instead, I decided to walk the 2.5 miles to our friends' garden, cutting across parks and streets at a diagonal, pretending I was on a hike, keeping a steady pace.

It ended up being a full day and I went to bed exhausted. That's such a good feeling, putting in a "day's work"—whatever that means to you.

My ceiling needs to grow, because my plant has.

Life, ya know.

Sam had Monday off from work, so he made seafood gumbo with brown rice, and biscuits from scratch. We drank cheap beer and cracked the window, sitting and eating and talking—the kinda thing that makes you think, "This is what I'm supposed to be doing."

We went to Dose Market on Saturday, filled with beautiful people and beautiful things: veggie slider from Mana Food Bar, juice from Peeled, and a new cuff bracelet from Cities in Dust.

THOUGHTS ON CONTRADICTION:

1
Over drinks in a small bar Alice told Mr Sakamoto of the incident in the Métro, of the journey to the bookshop. She told him about the woman with the tattooed arm. Then she said that although she was studying modernity, she had bought a novel by Henry James.

‘So what is the problem?’ he asked. ‘You are large enough to contain contradictions. We are all large enough—are we not?—to contain contradictions.’

-Gail Jones, Dreams of Speaking, London: Harvill Secker, 2006, p. 83. [via Hila at le projet d'amour]

2
Don't take yourself too seriously, and take yourself as seriously as death itself.
Don't worry. Worry your ass off.
Have unclad confidence, but doubt. It keeps you awake and alert.
Believe you are the baddest ass in town—and you suck! It keeps you honest.

Be able to keep two completely contradictory ideas alive and well inside of your heart and head at all times. If it doesn't drive you crazy, it will make you strong. And, stay hard, stay hungry, and stay alive. And when you walk on stage tonight to bring the noise, treat it like it's all we have—and then remember it's only rock 'n' roll.

-Bruce Springsteen, SXSW 2012 Keynote Speech [via NPR at 48:15]

Some things I purchased at Spartan when I was visiting Austin last month. The shop is a dream, and a trap for people like me.

AROUND HERE TODAY:
1.
I've been really drawn to metallics lately, especially this new little number. (I'm still not buying any new clothes this year, but I had a gift card, guys.)
2. 
Always into the "One Book One Chicago" program and the new selection doesn't disappoint, haunting my thoughts and dreams.
3. 
The new issue of Kinfolk next to a lovely book from my friend Molly.
4. 
Do you spy the sprouted onions? What a lovely surprise! Sam's rolling his eyes—but with a smile, which is why I like him—as I let them grow.