The Public Market is one of the many things I LOVE about Rochester.
Enjoy this peek at my Saturday morning.
(Tori/Liz collaborative project)
(Tori/Liz collaborative project)
Welcome :)
Honey Stix with my seester Tori to end a fun trip!
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Because Sometimes I Need to Remember
Sometimes the daily grind of life dulls our senses and we lose the feeling that there is anything beautiful outside of our routine.
It's been a year since I've updated this site, and I forgot how much this space has meant to me over the years until I was reminded by my favorite j.
She told me how much she misses my writing, and I thought back to others who have told me the same.
She told me how much she misses my writing, and I thought back to others who have told me the same.
She summed up our coffee date with this:
"Tea.blog.childrens lit.being healthy.joythebaker.being yourself. purple tights.love.sisterhood"
Thank you for the reminder.
And here's to a healthy restlessness that moves me to action.
I'm back.
I'm back.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Because I'm Not That Girl Anymore.
I'm updating the blog less and less these days, because another writing project is taking up a good amount of my time.
I'm writing a story.
Maybe a novel.
I don't know what the finished product will look like.
While the subject matter is close to my heart, and most of the inspiration can be pulled from my memory and experiences, there are other characters, pieces of the puzzle, who will have narratives.
For that, I need to do my research.
So I have been.
If someone walked into my bedroom and saw my open notebook and books surrounding it, they would imagine something is very wrong with me.
I promise it's not.
I'm simply trying to do justice to a story that needs to be told.
It is my story.
A girl who on an October night, four years ago, saw no other way out.
I made it out.
She doesn't.
It's her side of the story.
Her reasons.
Naivety.
What her existence looks like now.
Insight by the people who weren't ready for her to let go.
My head has been flooded with words and inspiration over the past month, and it's like I can't get it down fast enough.
It's hard for me to verbally explain all the details from that time.
And if I try, I sound like an incoherent rambling mess.
But when it's on paper, it sounds strong, collected.
I hope when it's all finished, it's a moving story.
My favorite books are the ones that stir your soul, make your chest ache, push you to tears.
It's beautiful, it's an art, and a gift.
I hope I have it.
If I don't, then I wish eyes that need to read it will.
I'm writing a story.
Maybe a novel.
I don't know what the finished product will look like.
While the subject matter is close to my heart, and most of the inspiration can be pulled from my memory and experiences, there are other characters, pieces of the puzzle, who will have narratives.
For that, I need to do my research.
So I have been.
If someone walked into my bedroom and saw my open notebook and books surrounding it, they would imagine something is very wrong with me.
I promise it's not.
I'm simply trying to do justice to a story that needs to be told.
It is my story.
A girl who on an October night, four years ago, saw no other way out.
I made it out.
She doesn't.
It's her side of the story.
Her reasons.
Naivety.
What her existence looks like now.
Insight by the people who weren't ready for her to let go.
My head has been flooded with words and inspiration over the past month, and it's like I can't get it down fast enough.
It's hard for me to verbally explain all the details from that time.
And if I try, I sound like an incoherent rambling mess.
But when it's on paper, it sounds strong, collected.
I hope when it's all finished, it's a moving story.
My favorite books are the ones that stir your soul, make your chest ache, push you to tears.
It's beautiful, it's an art, and a gift.
I hope I have it.
If I don't, then I wish eyes that need to read it will.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
UpDate on Life
Question.
How could dinner be bad when I snazzed up a traditional chicken french recipe to include fresh basil, heavy cream, butter, white wine, and lots of carmelized onion?
Oh yeah.
It can't be.
PLUS.
A glass of wine to accompany, and I am a happy girl.
I enjoy honing my skills.
ALSO.
I am writing.
Not here.
On my hard drive, paper, mind, anything that is available.
Not sure why, but words and stories have started flooding into my head these past couple of days.
I have pieces, and characters, cheeky plots, and tragic storylines.
The thing I love about writing is that the best stories don't pop into your head the way a reader enjoys them.
A word.
A thought.
It could be an ending.
Or a paragraph on what will be page 86.
It's a baby seed.
Watch it grow.
I love.
ALSO.
First card came off the goal web last week.
Pumped. One down, many more to go.
I may or may not have been dancing in my underwear,
and jumping on my bed basking in the glory of something I set my mind to accomplishing.
Sweet victory.
How could dinner be bad when I snazzed up a traditional chicken french recipe to include fresh basil, heavy cream, butter, white wine, and lots of carmelized onion?
Oh yeah.
It can't be.
PLUS.
A glass of wine to accompany, and I am a happy girl.
I enjoy honing my skills.
ALSO.
I am writing.
Not here.
On my hard drive, paper, mind, anything that is available.
Not sure why, but words and stories have started flooding into my head these past couple of days.
I have pieces, and characters, cheeky plots, and tragic storylines.
The thing I love about writing is that the best stories don't pop into your head the way a reader enjoys them.
A word.
A thought.
It could be an ending.
Or a paragraph on what will be page 86.
It's a baby seed.
Watch it grow.
I love.
ALSO.
First card came off the goal web last week.
Pumped. One down, many more to go.
I may or may not have been dancing in my underwear,
and jumping on my bed basking in the glory of something I set my mind to accomplishing.
Sweet victory.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Sunday Means...
Up at 6 am because my daughter had to pee.
Portlandia.
Painting fings.
Coffee.
Paper and Coups.
Laundry.
Shopping with aforementioned coups.
Spring training at 1:05.
Making dinner and bread for the week.
Having this girl join in the shenanigans at some point.
Drinking in all the wild stories and crazy events of the weekend.
Cut and paste journaling.
Getting inspiration pics for my next tattoo.
Happy Sunday!
Portlandia.
Painting fings.
Coffee.
Paper and Coups.
Laundry.
Shopping with aforementioned coups.
Spring training at 1:05.
Making dinner and bread for the week.
Having this girl join in the shenanigans at some point.
Drinking in all the wild stories and crazy events of the weekend.
Cut and paste journaling.
Getting inspiration pics for my next tattoo.
Happy Sunday!
Saturday, March 12, 2011
I Heart Saturdays
Abby is SUCH a photo diva.
Banking done.
Bills paid.
Scrubs ordered. (with wicked coupon deals)
Chatted with boo.
All from the comfort of my own bed before 10AM?
Oh. Hell. Yes.
Counting on this being one of my last productive weekends for the next 4-6 wks.
Steady diet of lemon drops and meclazine until then.
Withdrawl sucks.
Bills paid.
Scrubs ordered. (with wicked coupon deals)
Chatted with boo.
All from the comfort of my own bed before 10AM?
Oh. Hell. Yes.
Counting on this being one of my last productive weekends for the next 4-6 wks.
Steady diet of lemon drops and meclazine until then.
Withdrawl sucks.
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