rainy weekend / a good book / vanilla peppermint tea / sweatpants / gloomy skies / the smell of wet leaves / lentil soup / wood smoke / neutral colors / a perfectly moody playlist / lazy self portraits
Okay, here’s the thing: I am refusing to go back to letting my entire personality be centered around being disappointed and let down by life.
It’s not necessarily easy though, because it has definitely felt like every time I get back on my feet lately life bitch-slaps me again. The audacity.
You see, Agnes has given birth. And (drum roll, please), she had two (two) black-and-white kittens inside of her. One of which was stillborn.
So therefore: there is one healthy kitten.
(naturally we’ve been referring to it as “one” while we wait to see if it’s a boy or girl)
Went to a baby shower, miraculously didn’t come home with baby fever, despite the dozen of newborn babies in attendance.
(I think I’m healed)
Taylor turned twenty-seven yesterday.
*cue “27” by the magnificent Passenger:
twenty seven years now / only thing I know / I know that I don’t know how / to please everybody all of the time / ’cause everybody’s always fucking changing their minds
When we were young birthdays were super exciting; you all know how it used to be in the days of our youth. We got cards in the mail with money in them, donuts for breakfast, Mom planned us themed fun-filled parties (some of my most memorable were dinosaurs, cats, and pirates), and we’d get a day off from all of our chores. For 24 hours everyone just had to be nice to you, cause it was your birthday.
These days we really don’t do too much to celebrate birthdays in our family; more often than not we just give a few gifts and have a nice meal and dessert. We’re lucky if everyone remembers to send us a “happy birthday” text, and why does the money always stop when you need it most!? Like, we have bills to pay now. What’d we need it for when we were 6??
I’m currently hyperfixating on getting a kitten.
And no, it’s not an unfounded obsession.
Last week Taylor adopted her first cat from a friend of a friend who had a stray show up on her porch. When Taylor brought the little black-and-white beauty home the whole thing was a bit sus, and now our suspicions have been pretty much confirmed by the vets: little miss Agnes is preggers. She is with child. She has buns in the oven. She’s eating for two (or eight).
I’m thrilled. My cousin Maddie is thrilled. Taylor is thrilled (after initially having an anxiety attack about it). Assuming that all goes well, and that Agnes pops out at least three healthy babies, the three musketeers™ will all be adopting sibling kittens. How cute is that!?! I’m obsessed with this idea (and yes, we already have a group chat going).
Yesterday I found myself on a park bench watching the ducks and geese and chimney swifts while the sun set in the hazy sky. I was just sittin’ and thinkin’ about how crazy it is that life is just a series of getting addicted to one thing after another, and then inevitably withdrawing from each one.
Just hear me out.
Sure there are the obvious (and often harmful) addictions, but discovering a new song that you play on repeat? Creating a good habit that makes you feel good? Creating a bad habit that makes you feel good? Making fun purchases? Talking to someone you like or love? Hanging out with friends? Good foods? Good shows?? Good books???
They all give you that hit of dopamine or serotonin or oxytocin (or all of the above) that we all want need so badly.
This week I’ve been focusing on the simple task of being happy.
And by simple, you know I mean arduous.
Okay listen, I haven’t lost it completely…the foundation that I so carefully constructed during the last 6 months is still there…underneath some rubble. A serious lack of blue skies, a desk that is sticky from the constant humidity, and some unexpected happenings that have happened have caused a few recent earthquakes. Or maybe some natural, beneficial forest fires.
(it’s yet to be determined)
Recently I accidently got super into animal skulls.
Let me explain.
Last year my 20-year-old cat (Oscar) died. It was from an illness or infection related to old age, and she died 3 minutes before midnight while me, my younger sister, and my mom sat around a bonfire with her (that in itself was a strange story for another day).
As many of you know, my family and I live out in the country, so we naturally have a lot of wild predatory animals around us. And when one of our pets dies, we simply put their bodies out in the field to continue the cycle of life. C’est la vie.
In the last week of May Mom, Riley Mae, and I planted our gardens — one of my favorite times of the year.
Sure, my family and I always tend to lose some interest in the gardens during the hottest dog days of summer, and then we kinda just let them go to do their thing (we’re always surprised to go out to harvest the winter squashes and discover just how many were hidden in the leaves!).
But springtime? We love getting everything all cleaned up, going out every morning to water, and seeing the baby plants grow!
irises (left), and bleeding hearts (right) blooming
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art by jordan rae 