Friday Fondue

Back when I was writing over at Lullabies, I was doing a weekly roundup of links that I titled Friday Fondue. I sort of miss doing it so I figured I'd bring it back here.

A friend on Facebook shared this the other day and it is too good to not share again. Ladies and gents- Christopher Walken reading Where The Wild Things Are. 

Fellow Tucsonan and vintage stylist extraordinaire, Sydney Ballesteros of Golden Girl of the West does it again with a photo shoot that makes me think "this is what Megan Draper would look like if she went to Vegas." Check it out here. 

Speaking of Megan Draper (can you tell I've been stoked on Mad Men's new season finally gracing us with it's presence on Sunday nights again?), Buzzfeed gives you 11 reasons to love her. And I have to agree. 

These chairs!

It's near Summer in the Ol' Pueblo (our Springs are really more Summer-lite) and the Stevie Nicks wannabe inside of me can't help but find these outfits perfect. One, two, three and four.

If you're looking for a nice summer cocktail, Refinery 29 has you covered. 

I can't get enough risotto, so naturally this recipe was drooled over. 

As the mother to a son, Rebecca's post on letting boys be sensitive (and the stigma of them being called "weak" for it), hit home. It is so important that we raise empathetic, caring individuals in a world that experiences such harshness these days. 

And now, off to try and capture as much as of the weekend as possible. Cheers!

It Is You

It was you that I pined over at the bar to our mutual friend who knew our feelings were mutual but we were too shy to do anything about it.
It was you whose car I had an impossible time getting out of. Another song. Another block. Maybe we should just go get coffee? It took about five of those to work up the courage to tell you to come inside.
"Will you stay here until I fall asleep?"
It is you where I find any comfort in the world.

A year ago we took a day trip. I needed a change of scenery to try and recharge after a particularly draining month. Or, rather, a particularly draining couple of years. On our way back I laid my head on your arm and remained that way for about seventy-five miles. And for the first time I felt okay. Simply at peace with everything and myself. And since then we have been inseparable.

It was you that brought me back to life.

It has been a year, sweetheart, although it is hard to mark time these days. With our eyes on the horizon and our hearts holding on to everything in between, it is simply time. But it has been the best time.  The most loved, cherished and insatiable time.



Happy Anniversary, my dear.

This blog

This blog is not a collection of beautifully photographed moments.

This blog is not filled with clothing that cost more than my phone bill.

This blog doesn't have recipes.

This blog is me.

It is imperfect and pieced together. It is whatever I can muster from exhaustion or share from joy. It is my panic and my reverie.

It changes texture, tone and interest the same way my mind, body and soul have. It is an invitation in and yet as far as some will get but it is here. I am here. I am here to create, to crumple it up and say "fuck it" and start again. I am here to reach out into a great expanse and hope that I pull back something to know we are all still moving together in this.

This blog is human.

I have clung to words and found truth in them when everything else is a question. And so I write.

I write for here. I write for this place. I write for there and then and why and how and fuck and yes and him and

Me

This blog is me.

And I hope it is as imperfect and present and filled with the truth it took to create it.