Hello, August.

I know everyone always says this, but I can't believe August is actually here. I spent so much of July wishing for its end so Mike and I could visit Georgia, then for August so we could move into our new apartment. After much anticipation, it's strange to look around and see those things in the past and in the present.

We got the keys to our new place on Tuesday and promptly started moving things in. Mike took advantage of his days off moving boxes over while I was at work. Today he's in Western Mass getting the rest of his stuff from storage and tomorrow is our last push and Ikea run. I can't believe it! I'm so excited to get started making curtains and getting settled.

Our trip to Georgia was relaxing and all too quick, as usual. There just isn't enough time to split between my grandparents' house and my sister's. We did some sightseeing in Senoia where they're filming The Walking Dead, ate lots of my mom's good cooking, and played Guess Who? countless times. I'm so happy these days, so filled with love and excitement for everyday.

Hello, August. Hello our first (and possibly last) trip to the beach. Welcome, first apartment and days of just us. Dinners on the back porch, bike rides to Walden Pond, feverish sewing and settling, early mornings, a new writing routine, a farm wedding, camping, and that urgent, tugging feeling that summer-is-almost-over-let's-do-all-we-can-to-slow-it-down.

And now--and instadump.

Aimee Mann on repeat.

It is so very summertime. I've been working like a dog lately (when can we retire that phrase? dogs don't do any work), but it's nights like this with the window open, the breeze, some long-craved strawberry ice cream, and silence (Mike's out watching baseball) that I am reminded to slow down and enjoy the opening of everything. I hate being hot; I sweat more than a lady ought to, but something about summer feels like you can't hide anything anymore. You can't just curl up into yourself and forget about the world. It is green, it is on fire, it is beading with sweat along its brow, it is waiting for the next breeze, the next raindrop, the next reprieve. The sun reveals us.

Here is July.

Here is July in all her glory. We spent our mid-week work reprieve at Jennatron's in the A/C and on their porch, eating way too much and enjoying being all together. Work has been draining lately; I am discouraged by the amount of work I have and the few amount of hours in a work day. Getting paid overtime is not much of a comfort when the days are beautiful and the evenings stretch out before me with promise. I am sitting on my hands with excitement for our move in August, for a visit to Georgia at the end of this month, for rock climbing and family parties and more camping trips than I had dared to hope for. 

I cannot wait

For more campfires, for developed Holga film, for fresh film to snap, for fresh lemonade on the porch. I can't wait for Mike's big family party, for swimming to keep from melting, for cold showers in the afternoon, walking around with wet hair, for the smell of sunscreen on a weekday, for waking up earlier and earlier to get the last lick of cool air before the sun is full in the sky. I can't wait for homemade iced coffee, sun tea, popsicles, salads to cool my insides, the enduring layer of sweat that comes with summer. The slowing of limbs, of mind, of life that comes with the heating of the weather. The urge--and the time, the pace--the soak it all in.

In Inman again.

What a good weekend. I made the drive down to Philly Friday night with Katharine and Nate in tow. Driving through New York is lowest on my list of things I want to do again. It was hot in Philly, but we survived with frozen mango and frozen yogurt and lots of stops into air conditioned record stores. We finally made it to Barcade after an incredible dinner (and soft serve!) at Frankford Hall, a beautiful bar with ping pong and foosball tables, a s'mores pit, and plenty of outdoor seating. It was in a reclaimed mill or something with lots of brick.

We lounged in our sweat in Rittenhouse, saw some fireworks on the sidewalk, and had those kinds of conversations that last all day. I got to see my friend Kate who lives much too far away and was reminded of the way it feels for nothing to feel different after so much time. There was karaoke, and even though we were too late to sign up, we made up for it with picklebacks and singing Garth Brooks and Fun. loud from the crowd. KMo and I danced like we were in college again, which reminded me you don't have to be in college to dance like that.

Oh, yeah, and there was a Twin Peaks brunch, which explains some of the photos above. I crocheted my own mustache and was proud to call the Log Lady my main man.

Close call morning.

Twice already today almost started out horribly. I was up early for a work-from-home day, ready to go, packed up the trash (I cheat and take it out on trash morning, when the bins are on the sidewalk so I don't have to encounter the rats in our trash abyss). I had my book in my purse and an hour to kill before work. When I dumped the recycling into the bin, in went my keys. Oh noooo, I said to no one. But upon inspection, the tattered old Marc Jacobs snap keychain was sticking out far enough for me to reach. Relieved at the close call, I continued on to 1369, gripping my skirt as it blew up against the wind. After an hour of reading and sipping coffee and nibbling a chocolate croissant and pretending that is my life, I came home to start work. No internet. I panicked, thought maybe I hadn't paid the bill, called to check, it's not due until the 30th. I unplugged various cords whose jobs are a mystery to me, knowing in my gut that the yellow blinking light on the modem (or is it the router?) was not a good sign. You'd think after almost two years of working with tech material, I'd know the difference or how to troubleshoot a simple home Internet set up. Not so, my friends. Not so.

So I did what any self-respecting clueless gal who's late to work does, I hurriedly called Comcast after getting annoyed with their mobile site, and after receiving a "refresh signal," which sounded like bogus pacification to me, I hit 0 twice, just to make sure they knew I was serious about speaking to a human. As she asked me the usual security questions ("What's your blood type?" "Who's your aunt's second cousin's neighbor's dog walker?"), I clicked on the Chrome icon and lo-and-behold, there it was, the Internet in all her glory. I sheepishly thanked the woman for all of her help and informed her that the refresh signal seems to have worked. She laughed, the relieved laugh of a customer service worker who has actually encountered a nonviolent customer, and we hung up.

And, guys, the sun is shining. Days of going to the beach and complaining about sweating behind my knees and eating frozen grapes to keep from dying and napping by accident on benches or in the grass in front of the library--those days are on the tip of my tongue.

From left to right, top to bottom: (1) Dress #2 in progress, hence the cardigan; (2) Chocolate Cheerios + Peanut Butter Cheerios, together at last; (3) Mornings in Inman, waking up at 7am never felt so rewarding; (4) A much needed walk after work on Tuesday. See my shadow there? 

On summer heat.

"I can see the sun, but even if I cannot see the sun, I know that it exists. And to know that the sun is there -- that is living." Fydor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

Except today, and for the past several days, I can see the sun. I can feel it in the mornings before I am fully awake. The fan on full blast cannot keep up with the sweat my skin produces. I read about Mississippi in an oppressive time and an oppressive heat while I bake homemade Oreos in the kitchen. I imagine I live in a time before air conditioners, before escaping to a cool restaurant was an option, before frozen pizzas from Trader Joe's would have been my dinner. I imagine every summer night feeling like it does right now, two drinks - water and wine, and cookies cooling on the counter. I prop open the window ushering in the most breeze with a block of wood whose origins are a mystery. All I know is, wherever that wood came from, I am so glad it is here. I close my eyes against the breeze, however slight, before I must open the oven to retrieve the cookies before they burn. "If you can smell whatever's in the oven and it smells good, means it's about to burn," a woman in my family once told me.

I want to go to the beach.

The coworker chat in the office this morning is about upcoming vacations. We have a loose vacation policy (pretty much, take it when you want it) at work, which ends up me feeling timid and scared to take any substantial time off. I end up taking random Fridays off every now and then. But I'm having a serious hankering for a week of nothing but sleeping in, reading in the grass, roadtripping to the beach, and finally making it out to Six Flags and Mass Moca instead of just talking about it. Mike doesn't know what he's in for tonight: Sitting down with a calendar and planning out the rest of the summer to make sure we squeeze all its juice out before it's dry. 

Today I'm thankful for borrowing Mike's car to work, suburban swimming pools, Herrell's groupons, game nights, and buses from Boston to Western Mass. Happy Monday! 

Image of Singing Beach via

The Legend of the Pool on Cambridge Street

Thursday was spent working from home, waiting impatiently for the Verizon technician to come fix our Internet, and going to the dentist. After a day like that, I needed a break. And a damn good dinner. Luckily Meg knew what I had in mind. When I got home from the dentist, we threw on our bathing suits and rode our bikes to the rumored pool behind the Portuguese library on Cambridge Street. I'd heard about it from a friend, but I'd never actually laid eyes on it. We rounded the corner, the smell of fresh-baked bread in our nostrils, and there she was. $1.50 in quarters to the lady who paused her iPod to take our money from us, and we were in! I snapped this photo to prove to other Cantabrigians that this pool actually exists. Then Mike said I was creepy for taking it. You win some, you lose some. 

We didn't last very long in the pool before deciding it was time for some grub. The bike ride home was cool and breezy. I wanted something simple but refreshing and filling. So I made some curly pasta, some chopped steamed asparagus, sliced some cherry tomatoes, then mixed it all together with some butter and feta cheese. And let me tell you, it was exactly what I wanted. Add a side of toasted baguette with avocado and you're looking at one happy girl who turned her meh Thursday right around. What are you eating this summer? 

Decided against the sweet peas and basil. Oh well. 

Could hardly wait to dig in.

Summer Goals.

Saw this post over at the lovely A Beautiful Mess, and thought making a list of goals should definitely be at the top of my to-do list. In Boston, the summer is pretty fleeting, so I want to make sure I maximize these warm months and start the fall with some sweet accomplishment under my belt.

1. Organize, organize, organize. I want to get specific here, or else I'll never get around to it. Big news: The boyfriend is moving in at the end of the summer. It's something we've discussed, and we both think it would be lovely to be closer to one another. I'll be sharing custody with his parents (the school where he works is much closer to them) during the week, but I still want to treat it as though he'll be there all of the time. I've already cleared out two drawers and plenty of hangers for him, but I want to get rid of more clutter and make sure that the space is rejuvenating and inspiring when there are two bodies/collections of stuff in it.


2. Write, write, write. This blog has been a great project for writing. Though I haven't been writing fiction as much as I used to, the project of journaling and reflecting has been wonderful for sorting through my everyday, processing, and cataloging memories. But this summer is for stepping it up and writing some serious fiction. I want to take full advantage of the talented writers in my writing group and get some stories done and sent to literary magazines.

3. Learn to sew. Last week I sat down with my inherited sewing machine and - overwhelmed by the hieroglyphics on the machine - quickly gave up. I plan to take the sewing basics class at gather here and this Home Ec e-course. Hopefully by winter I'll be well on my way to making my very first quilt out of Mike's old t-shirts!

4. Write more letters. I love writing letters, but just like my fiction, I've let it fall by the wayside. Now that I live in a larger room with four windows, I look forward to enjoying the sunset, the evening breeze, and updating friends and loved ones with the notes on the postcards that are piling up in my desk drawers.


5. Learn CSS and update this blog. My job allows me the awesome opportunity for complimentary tech books, including Plug-In CSS 100 Power Solutions from McGraw-Hill. I'll be reading through this book and hopefully updating my blog by the end of the summer. I'm excited to learn a new skill and make this space my own.

6. Explore Boston. I want to introduce Mike to Boston and Cambridge more! With the weather warming up, there are no more excuses for laying around. We started yesterday at ScooperBowl, eating all the ice cream we could eat and raising money for the Jimmy Fund!

What are your summer goals?

Tunes for Tuesday.

Found this player with Bon Iver's new album via a tweet from Today's Letters. During our trip to Northhampton, we stopped to see what bands were coming NoHo this summer. This Friday is The Blow (fingers crossed we can go!), then in July it's the decemberists and August is Bon Iver. I so look forward to exploring and gallivanting with Mike and co. this summer. I don't have much money, but it seems that things are just so much more possible when the weather's warm.

Who's with me?

(Picture via)