about a cookie crush

I've discovered the key to happiness.

and it's cookies.
lots and lots of cookies.
with sprinkles and chocolate, please.

All I know is that I've made this same cookie recipe three times in the past week (whoops?) and I have no regrets.  Life is all about finding what you love - and cookies, I love you. I do.

If you're in need of some extra sugar and general delirious joy I sugest making them too -- this recipe was discovered after my friend Kendall posted a picture of these tasty treats on instagram and I had to have them.  I like to think of it as our meet-cute.

Happy it-is-almost-friday-and-on-friday-calories-don't-count!

you know it's been a good week when you open your newly purchased box of butter and go "what??!" 

This recipe involves making ganache - aka heaven in a bowl 

and then.... ta-da!

Now my cookies are tucked in for the night, waiting to be enjoyed by my co-workers tomorrow.  

oh, and PS - baking is extra fun when you have an amazing roommate who fills the kitchen with cat-inspired cooking gear.  

about summer dreamin'

This summer I want to: 

walk around Capital Hill with an ice cream cone and good company.  Listen to jazz in the gardens.  Have a picnic somewhere sunny and green.  Kayak in the river.  Enjoy the fairyland the monuments become at night.  Eat strawberries until I puke.  Frolic around in cute dresses.  Drink wine in my homeland.  Scream my face off during a 75mph free-fall.  Read some Keller by a pool/ocean/lake.  Walk these trails until my shoes fall apart.  Invite friends over for pie. Spontaneously road-trip somewhere whilst blasting my good pal Av.  Find seasonally-appropriate poem inspiration. Set an open course for the virgin sea. Paint my nails only the brightest colors. Fall in love in front of a big screen under a starry night.  Find a carnival and get my ferris wheel on.  Avoid cicadas.

who's in? 

about singing your song

I Go Among Trees and Sit Still

by Wendell Berry

I go among trees and sit still.

All my stirring becomes quiet 

around me like circles on water.

My tasks lie in their places

 where I left them, asleep like cattle.

Then what is afraid of me comes

 and lives a while in my sight.

What it fears in me leaves me,

 and the fear of me leaves it.

It sings, and I hear its song.

Then what I am afraid of comes.

 I live for a while in its sight.

What I fear in it leaves it,

 and the fear of it leaves me.

It sings, and I hear its song.

After days of labor,

 mute in my consternations,

I hear my song at last,

 and I sing it. As we sing,

the day turns, the trees move.

about mystery

Growing up, I was a hard-core Nancy Drew kind of girl.  My grandmother got me the whole collection of printed novels and I remember my heart pouding a little bit at the dramatic painted covers, with Nancy hiding from a masked stranger, or holding a flashlight and fighting her way out of a swamp.

I could watch Harriet the Spy or the Olsen twin's detective series ("we'll solve any crime by dinner time!") over and over again.  I even had a pink voice recorder I would use to take matters into my own hands after the stories ended.

It's safe to say - I was into mysteries.  

Which is funny, because I was typing an e-mail to one of my best friends a few weeks ago and wrote with exasperation "my heart is a mystery to me" and it was (and most days is) true.  True in an annoying, frustrating, "why can't I figure out what is going on in there" sort of way.

When mystery gets too close, it seems, it loses its sparkle.

I was grateful when my friend wrote back "of course your heart is a mystery! The bible even says so!" because that made me feel like less of a crazy person.  And also it has made me reflect on the verse she was referencing in Jeremiah that says of the heart "who can know it?"

And who can? Who can know the deep caverns of ourselves that conflict and astound us? And who can know where life will lead, or what the world will become in ten years? Not I - that is for sure.

Today on a walk I found myself remembering and thanking God that He is the answer to the question of "who".  And that in all the mystery, there is something beautiful to be discovered.

There is something beautiful about that part of me that delights in magic shows, rollercoasters and mystery novels - that part that loves being totally taken away by something I cannot control.  I get excited when I remember that the Lord describes some of the best things in life as mysteries - marriage, our own created hearts, ultimately our faith.

I am not always gracious with myself when life feels like a mystery.  I think God is teaching me not only to cope with the unknown but to enjoy it.  There is so much in this world to "figure out", but rather than solving every puzzle I want to learn to trust more, love more, and delight more in every detail of my life.

There is extra comfort in knowing that to God, I am not at all a mystery.  I am someone who is known.

about when a poem visits like an old friend

and suddenly you are different and suddenly the poem feels brand new.
Written after this poem by Neruda popped into my head on a jog.
---------------------

Like a hurt dog 

I go further today

than before, not knowing where.

Suddenly the canal sits familiar

beneath car streams;

I arrive there and remember

reading “Clenched Soul” four years ago

in class, reciting with a forced

sadness I’m ashamed of. 

One duck swims so lonely

by I think of the sun

like a coin in my palm,

burning away. 

I think of blue sweaters

rolled like hurt dogs

that don’t belong around

here, that would never

trot by and wait

still at traffic lights.

My face is taut and I

remember to relax

each muscle one by one

until the tension leaves,

jogging by the water

toward a pending twilight

I practice unclenching

any familiar questions;

I let my soul inquire

about sadness; 

I let the pieces drop like

blue night on the world.