My blog has moved to my very own site .
All posts live there now.
It’s been busy. School and work have taken over my life — final papers have started, and this well-intentioned blog has been put on the back burner… at least until summer break (yes, they have that in grad school, woo hoo!).
All this craziness means I’ve spent a lot of time at my desk lately. The quote, typed on my rickety typewriter on a brown paper envelope framed next to my keyboard reads: ”Live, travel, adventure, bless, and don’t be sorry.” – Jack Kerouac.
At the magazine, we get articles formatted six ways from Sunday.
Some authors like all caps, bold every other word, overuse italics. Some like green text. Some send us articles with the entire text centered, as if it was a poem. We get some in font size 8 and some in size 16, and I swear we translate some out of Dingbats.
Which is what leads me to today’s thank you note:
Dear Black, 12 point, Times New Roman Font,
I remember teachers always telling us we needed to use a readable font for papers. I get it now. I used to think you were boring. But now, your serifs flow making even my worst-written first drafts digestible, and my completed drafts even more satisfying. Your “unbulky” letters give order to chaos. Thank you for being normal. Sometimes you’re the only part of my day that has any semblance of order.
Cheerios with blueberries, blackberries, and soy milk. The last of the coffee. #breakfast
In honor of the sixth anniversary of Twitter, I have decided to tell you about my breakfast. Today six years ago — March 21, 2006 — founder Jack Dorsey posted his very first Tweet — “just setting up my twttr” — and got the ball rolling for what would launch a few months later as a communication empire.
Honestly, as much as I make fun of Twitter and refuse to do it (save here), I am 100 percent in support of communication. We live in a world where we have snail mail, e-mail, cell phones, text messaging, Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, blogs, among a million other things (you might even still have a landline or a fax machine?), and if we’ve bought into the smartphone market, we have it all in the palms of our hands. Even if it involves Tweeting and posting things called “Twit pics,” (seriously!?) I think our constant exchange of ideas is pretty great.
One day a engineer boy met a writer girl who celebrated pi day despite her ineptitude at math, and it was love.
Happy 3.14! If you haven’t noticed, we really only celebrate holidays involving food.
Don’t yell at your children.
Eat your leafy greens.
Work somewhere you enjoy.
Believe in the good in people.
Invest in good running shoes.
Get checked out by the doctor.
Stop to eat.
Enjoy the money you work for.
Marvel at the world around you.
Tyler and I have officially instated date night at our house. It’s not that we don’t see each other… because we do… all the time actually. But we find that unless we make it a point to get out, or make a special meal or talk about things other than our routine, we end up on the couch eating leftovers and talking about work during the commercials of Colbert Report.
Every relationship needs its share of maintenance. It’s easy to get caught up in the week. Work. Home. Trying to keep work and home separate. Homework. Did someone do the dishes? Did one of us put the last load of laundry in the dryer? What’s due tomorrow? Do I have any meetings? The list goes on.
When I think of maintenance, I usually think of the oil light in my car being on or of the garbage disposal I’ve shoved too large a carrot down and have to fix. It usually conjures a sense of dread, and then procrastination.
But as we sat opposite each other over dinner, talking the hours away, I realized not all maintenance feels like a chore. In fact, far from it.