today was a beautiful day:
work, aka helping breastfeeding moms in the morning
then, to the library book sale (best thing ever)
then to chat it up with a great friend
vagina monologues rehearsal
girl talk with a fellow vagina monologue-r

and now... here i am. 

and i have the house to myself.



this is definitely

a poetry and candlelight kind of night.

Today, I was once again worrying about what I really want to do with my life, if I really do want to do what I think I want to do (will doing what I think I want to do really be as enjoyable to me as I think it will be?), and if/how I'll ever be able to get there.  To that... unknown place.

I also happened to have a song stuck in my head today.  As I pondered casually upon my future, I began to hum and sing the words to that song again:

"Don't you worry your pretty little mind..."

And suddenly, the meaning of that statement really hit me.

Don't worry about it. Everything will work out fine.

Got it.

Those salted chocolate cookies?

Still chewy and fantastic today.


Also, cool news of the day:

I am going to be reading a part in The Vagina Monologues.
It's even the part I wanted to get.  I am excited!

Nervous, but excited.

Sunday afternoons are so delicious.

...Delicious in that I get to sit back, enjoy lots of peaceful quiet time in my pretty living room.

Also delicious in that I often use them to make delicious food to consume.  or to devour, as the case may be.

This afternoon I made the most amazing salted chocolate cookies, which I found here. While you're there, you should check out her lovely blog.  I could peruse it for hours.  So much beautiful real food, beautiful writing, and beautiful photographs.  Plus awesome links to explore.  And, I would love to read her book sometime. Sounds right up my alley.

Speaking of delicious food, I also ate some leftovers of this sweet potato minestrone, which was submitted to the blog by my lovely friend Katie Temus Merrill, which I made last night and ate with this super easy and delicious homemade bread (I work part-time for the woman who writes this blog, by the way) and butter. Yum.

I also spent my afternoon listening to the rest of this excellent podcast on LDS females and sexuality, which I highly recommend to every LDS female everywhere that ever was.  Not to be dramatic. ahem. I had the privilege of attending her lecture last fall in Salt Lake (thank you roommate Elisa's mom!), which was very empowering and a good reminder of many ideas I've heard touched on before in conversations with my friends. What a blessing her research is and has been to so many!  Sheesh. There are so many amazing women for me to look up to in this world, and in my LDS community.  I never cease to be impressed by the amazing women I am surrounded by who are always seeking after truth, after progress, after the best versions of themselves, and who aren't afraid to rock the boat a little bit at times. (If you want more resources regarding LDS females and sexuality, check out the links in the description of the podcast.  Lots of interesting info there, as well.)

Finally, as I listened to the podcast above, and ideas of vulnerability and it's role in building relationships came up, I was reminded of this inspiring TED talk by Brené Brown, called The Power of Vulnerability, which I have embedded below for your enjoyment and enlightenment! That, in my opinion, is also delicious. 



Happy Sunday, everyone! 

"Sometimes I dream of a tree, and the tree is my life.

One branch is the man I shall marry, and leaves my children.

Another branch is my future as a writer and each leaf is a poem.

Another branch is a glittering academic career.

But as I sit there trying to choose,

The leaves begin to turn brown and blow away

Until the tree is absolutely bare."

-The Tree of Life, Sylvia Plath

New Year's Eve, and other thoughts.

Over the last couple of years, I have taken to spending New Year's Eve alone.

It took me awhile to admit it to myself, but I am just not a big party kind of person.  I will nearly always prefer cozy gatherings with close, trusted, friends.

And especially on New Year's Eve, it doesn't feel right.  Being the final night, the 365th day of a year that will never come again... it just seems as though it should be spent pondering.   Meditating.  Communing with my deepest self, and determining who I am, where I have been.  Congratulating myself on what I have accomplished, and confidently addressing things I could have done better.

I ask myself a variety of questions, but it all comes back to this:


Does my soul feel full?



And so, on this last New Year's Eve that transitioned us into the year two thousand twelve, I lit some candles, turned on the Christmas tree lights, and cozied up with a blanket and these beautiful videos of spoken word poems by Sarah Kay*.

I noticed the time at about 11:50, and meant to go turn on the television to watch the ball drop and the year turn, but was quickly and easily dissuaded by another poem, and then forgot about time altogether.

When I heard a sudden burst of explosions and loud shouting outside, and I jumped up and ran out the front door to enjoy the excitement.  As my home is situated on the mountainside, I am lucky enough to have a wide view of the valley below, which on this particular night included a fireworks display, spread across the panoramic view, from homes of every sort.


A few minutes later, on the north end of the valley, I noticed numerous slow-moving, fire-colored dots.  I stood there, staring, a little startled. For the life of me, I could not figure out what they were.

Then, a moment of clarity.  Paper lanterns.

I stood for several minutes, barefoot on the cold cement sidewalk in front of my house— my toes and fingers tingly, my cheeks turning pink. The cloud of golden-orange lights expanding, rising, ever increasing in number.  It felt so peaceful, yet momentous. Legendary. The only first few moments of the year 2012 that would ever exist. And there was I, standing, breathing in the moment deeply.  There was I, experiencing them.





*That poetry absolutely mesmerizes me.  How beautiful and poignant, those moments and insights she captures. I aspire to be able to craft my words in such an elegant way. There are so many wonderful poems, but these are some that touched me.