bricolagelife

seven days to say goodbye

the time has come. for many weeks i have been considering carefully if and when and how i would say goodbye here. i'm not really good at goodbyes. but there is no avoiding it - on september 13th this form of bricolagelife will end. once the decision was made, i imagined publishing a brief but fond farewell post on the day. and then that seemed too abrupt. so here we are with seven days to say so long... i'm not really sure how that's going to work. let's make it up as we go along. in the bricolage way :)

returning home

we tried the deep fried sweet corn. we sampled the hot barbecued brisket, pulled pork, sausage and rib tips. we licked our fingers in the car and passed the styrofoam containers and plastic forks around. the rain poured down outside and soaked the parking lot where we sat but we were happy. we had already sipped the sweet fresh melon juice with our barbacoa, al pastor, steak chili and fish tacos the day before. we ate homemade pies from the dutch farm market. apple walnut, strawberry rhubarb and sour cherry, mounds of vanilla ice cream melting down the sides and pooling in our bowls. we took long walks along the lake shore, heads bent in search of treasures, our pockets filling up with singular stones and cloudy beach glass. we watched the fog sweep in and burn away. we were surprised at the used book sale and curled up in the quiet hours at the edges of waking and sleeping, sprawled on every chair and sofa, reading. we played scrabble and drank beer and tasted the locally brewed cherry cranberry hard cider. we watched the cottony clouds, squinted into the blazing sunset, looked out on the rains that came and went, leaving steam rising in the burning sun that came after. we saw the black, red and grey squirrels fighting over the birdseed, leaping like acrobats from the tree branches onto the swinging feeder. we looked for deer while we sped along the blue star and red arrow highways. and we spied a few, half hidden in the brush beside the road. they turned up their white tails and vaulted back into the woods (not the road, to our relief). we counted hawks sailing overhead and roadkill down below. roadkill won. we roamed the aisles of the cavernous musty antique malls, explaining to the youngest one; how that was used to grind coffee; this was where the ink was kept for dipping pens; this held the flowers in place at the bottom of a vase... and she was always genuinely interested in the answers. we ate the biggest blueberries we'd ever seen. they tasted like michigan. we went back to the farm stand for more. we cooked dinner in our bare feet, nachos one night, tomato sandwiches and buttered sweet corn the next. we listened to music while we set the table and ate our simple meals. fleet foxes, bon iver, gillian welch and sara tavares. we snacked on licorice and trail mix and hot buttered popcorn, bugles and dark potato chips. this felt decadent. a ukulele was strummed. someone threatened to play the harmonica but nothing came of it. mostly we slept well. under the ceiling fans, beside the open windows, under the summer blankets. we sat on the porch and heard the waves on the beach. which made us want to walk back down and put our feet into the chilled lake again. some of us jumped in. some of us eased slowly forward, up to our knees, gasping and drawing our shoulders up tight. shivering and retreating to shore. one of us was ambitious and geared up for a twenty five mile bike ride. one of us scored a mid century office desk chair from a junk shop, the metal legs speckled with rust. in vacation mode, some of us didn't bother to shave. some didn't use a hairbrush or comb all week. no one needed a hairdryer. we wore no makeup. we kept our swimsuits on under our clothes, just in case. we shared sun hats. we had sand between our toes. we spoke softly together of forgiveness, frustrations, hopes and plans. the future, the blurry past. there were belly laughs and chuckles and many grins. on the last day we washed the towels and put away the dishes. we packed up our bags and looked one last time in each room, closet, corner, to be sure we left nothing behind. we stood on the porch and waved goodbye as cars pulled away with a crunching of tires rolling slowly over gravel. the bittersweet sound of vacation. the same at the beginning as the end. then we last two said goodbye cottage as we locked the red door and heard the wooden screen creak closed one last time.  we loaded our old volvo and turned onto the road leading the long way south, curving west and then north into the city, hugging the round tip of the huge lake all the way.

470 photos and 3 videos later we are home. the heatwave we left behind a week ago has broken. we opened all the windows and sighed as a cooling breeze blew thru the apartment. the sun was low in the sky when we arrived last night. this is the late summer light that makes the rooms here glow. we can almost feel the approach of autumn. i stood at the door of my workroom, the familiar scent of old books in the air, and looked down the hallway. i love it here, i said. me, too, he smiled. happy to be away and happy to come home. how lucky are we?

nice finds :: laughter and foot massages

a few times every year i step away from the computer for days on end to recharge. this is one of those times. please enjoy this list of links to some of my nice finds during my virtual absence and i will be back before you know it!

are you (like me) an introvert? do you know (or love) an introvert? if so, you might find this essay on caring for your introvert enlightening. (via my bro)

i cannot say enough good things about these fantastic foot rollers from the italian company gymnic. mine live under my desk and i love the instant foot massage they give me when i'm working. seriously. you need these. (via my previous life as a toystore owner)

i will be attempting to make my own dear photograph photos this week. this is my favorite kind of idea - beautifully simple and truly brilliant! don't you want to try it? (via twitter + my nephew)

when i return to my trusty keyboard i intend to explore in more detail these two creative business spaces; creative boom and the switchboards. (via twitter)

i am most likely the last person on earth to discover this but these humblebrags really cracked me up. (via twitter. i know, it looks like i spend way too much time on twitter. but honestly the brevity of the content there allows me to see a lot without spending a lot of time...)

looking for more links to love? check out the list to the right (titled sipping coffee with) - scroll down, click and visit more amazing people and places!

see you soon!

xo

sosser

taste this : sip a summer garden

it's been cold again here. winter coat and wooly scarf cold. so we really needed a little something to evoke a warm summer breeze in a sunny garden. the kind of warm bare arms and scent of heat on the leaves in the herb patch moment when you breathe deep, smile and find you are completely at ease. this cocktail did the trick. i won't tell you it tastes as good as it looks because it doesn't. it tastes a thousand times better. it tastes like summer. i would even say it tastes so good i would drink it without the gin. if you were here right now i would mix one up for you. until then, please do make your own:

bella fragola

(recipe for one)

 

1 ounce fresh squeezed lemon juice

4 basil leaves

2 strawberries

2 ounces good gin

1 ounce simple syrup

seltzer water to taste

in a mixing glass, lightly muddle 1 strawberry and 3 basil leaves with the lemon juice.

add gin and simple syrup to the mix and toss in a few ice cubes. shake it real good. 

strain over ice and garnish with a strawberry, a basil leaf and a lemon wheel.

enjoy!

today, last night, tomorrow

today i couldn't resist adding these two pears to my basket at the grocery store. seriously. who could resist them?

last night we watched this. i really liked it. don't miss the bonus features.

tomorrow i want to take some time to put my feet up and listen to records on the stereo. and maybe read more of these posts. they crack me up.

what are you up to these days? send links please :)

spring is...

stormy and sunny. brown and grey and blue and green. spring is dramatic.

a fond farewell

the final year of the past decade began with a frosty adventure 

surprised me with unexpected photo ops

and visual delights in ordinary everyday moments  (now making the rounds on tumblr)

and brought a new self-cut do

the challenge (and recovery from) the worst (most harrowing?) day (months?) of our lives

a restorative week by the beach, recorded in daily collections

the thrill of new projects

the completion of a daunting project

many many lovely ordinary days

comforting visits with good friends and family

and so so much more... a fond farewell to you, 2010.

cheers!

thanks for spending the year with me here. i am really looking forward to what 2011 will bring.

 

100% authentic quotes from actual horoscopes

this one knocked me out when i opened it this morning. i have been struggling with this and telling myself to be patient... so it was a perfectly timed reinforcement for me. especially considering this.

i don't "sit and wait" so well. so while i wait i will listen to this and bake more cookies, make insulated curtains for the freezing dining room, mend my wooly socks and later enjoy this.

happy friday!

retro mercury

the news that mercury is going retrograde always puts me on high alert. warily i attend to daily business and activities, expecting every mechanical device i rely on to sputter and conk out on me. mysteriously the tasks i attempt take longer to complete and communication winds down to a hushed halt. but like most things, there's an upside to mercury's antics. tho it may not be a good time to sign contracts or zoom thru a new project, it is a very good time to slow down and reflect on where you've been and where you may be heading. i like that. 

so today, in preparation, we carried from the pantry all of the baking supplies we stocked up on at the discount grocery store and baked cookies. old fashioned oatmeal cookies with dried cranberries and chocolate chips. after they cooled (and we had sampled a few) i took one of the paperboard oatmeal containers my bro had given me and covered it with a sheet of vintage xmas gift wrap (using double sided adhesive tape). filled with our tasty cookies, a santa sticker on top and a glossy red ribbon around it, this will be a gift for the doctor and his staff who mended my son's broken ankle in august.

we'll bake another batch tomorrow, make a pot of cinnamon tea, watch this in the afternoon and read beside the xmas tree in the evening. there will be time set aside in the coming days to sit and revisit my datebook from 2010. there will be quiet walks for thinking on the coming new year. we're ready for you, mercury. bring it.

just puttering around at home

the british say pottering, we say puttering, but when i looked it up in the dictionary i wasn't really sure it's the most accurate word.  the definition is "to work or move idly or ineffectually".  when i use it i mean to move at my own pace, with my own vague agenda.  i get things done but in a pleasingly wandering sort of way.  it's one of my favorite ways to spend the day. i repotted the herbs and they are so happy now in a pot too big for the windowsill.  carrying them up to the sunniest spot i realized there was a gift to wrap on the table, which took me past the place that needed to be swiffered, then into the kitchen where my coffee cup was waiting and a little lunch was soon prepared.  it may appear i am moving about aimlessly but i am rarely ineffectual.  i accomplish plenty.  just not in a straight line.  all the while my mind is busy working thru some other things on my mental list, coming up with creative solutions to odd problems or planning new projects.  if i want to i may stop to take a photo, or read a short story or write down an idea.  i'm occupied from waking til sunset but if someone calls and asks what i'm doing i usually say "nothing".  or "just puttering around".  perhaps next time i'll say "everything".