We cut a hand-me-down shelving unit into two pieces: 1/3 for a breakfast table in our front room and 2/3 for a potting bench outside. Our place is very spacious for a Chicago apartment, and, although I value minimalism in others' interiors, I've learned that it's not really what I look for in my space; so, I've been working on creating nooks to make it feel cozier.

Along with that, some other things I've enjoyed this weekend:
• Repotting my plants in large terra cotta
• Sam's family
• Some friends, and Elvis, and the jukebox at the bar up the street
• Simmering leftover lemon peel to make the apartment smell fresh, since my worms can't eat citrus anyway
• Finally watching The Future and Beginners (and I loved reading this interview with Mike Mills)
• My new Karen Walker sunglasses—a birthday splurge
• Gauzy white curtains and a basket, both from the thrift store
One of the sexiest songs


Did I tell you guys about this? 11 inches and I feel free. Shout out to Alva Leigh for giving me the final nudge, via Twitter, I needed to make an appointment.

[Top photo by Samuel]


Austin and New Braunfels

And that's all the Texas I have, unless you'd like to see last year.


Austin to Marfa: Pt. 2 of 2
When It Got Sunny
That Time There Was A Lot of Symmetry Toward the End


Austin to Marfa: Pt. 1 of 2
When It Rained
That Time We Ran Out of Gas


Behind on my internet activity since arriving back in Chicago—which actually feels pretty nice—but, I was pleasantly surprised to see Elise's mention of me on her guest post for Miss Moss yesterday (hello, number 7), along with some other incredible images and links. Read more here.

[Image from Miss Moss]


I spent the last week in Texas filling my head with so many sights and memories. But, the sweetest one, though not location-specific, was waking up and making tea with a book by my side. I pretended like I was relaxed and content, but I was always waiting, excited and a little nervous even. For what?

For the imminent little footsteps on the hardwood. The ones that would start pattering around 10 a.m., getting more and more audible, until I could see a wide-eyed little face peak around the corner. "Jessah?" he'd ask, eyebrows raised, and then a big smile. The day began.


A short existence of 24 years and I feel like I've lived a million lives. Without talking about regretful moments, do you ever look back with a sense of pride and think, "I can't believe I did that" . . . ?