Just my type.

There's a special someone in my life. His name is Archer, and ever since he came onto the scene, he's been my go-to guy. I spend time with him every.single.day. When I write emails, he is there. When I labor to find the words for my latest articles, he's by my side. Archer is my new favorite font. I think we'll be life-long friends.

When Martha Stewart's creative team invented this rounded, seriffed slice of typographic heaven for her magazine, I rejoiced! When they decided to release their design to the eager font-loving world, I fist-pumped for three days straight.

I've always loved type. Visual presentation of a message is just as important and telling as the words chosen to communicate it. That's why I fell in looooove with this website. Jessica Hische is a real treasure, Her artistry graces the covers of books and composes the nameplates of websites. And, do you know what? Her website is written in Archer. Icing on the cake.

Amen, sister

An ode to the "Amen," the "I agree," the "Yes!", the "Are you inside my head, reading my journals, listening in on my prayers?"...

This from Nikki, the publisher of skirt! magazine, about writing:

"Crafting daily short blurbs relieved enough creative pressure to keep me from building up a head of steam to go deeper in my own writing. I love any excuse possible to avoid the hard work of writing, rewriting, editing, deleting, and starting over, but I want to flex those muscles again. I want to draw more, take more pictures, notice more. That's why I keep coming back to this blog; it's my laboratory, my writer's workshop, my journal of possibilities. Maybe I'll find out that I'm destined to be a writer of paragraphs, not pages, but there's also a chance I'll string those paragraphs into pages someday and pages into chapters. I don't think it will matter to the world whether I Twitter or tell some stories, but it makes a world of difference to me."

In just a few short months, I've allowed my writing to become my JOB, instead of my release. I think that's why I turn here to unfold. I've got a 150 word article to write today. But, instead, I'm here... letting my thoughts and words tumble out of my fingertips and onto this unlimited piece of cyber-paper, trying my very best not to self-edit every sentence. When I'm frustrated by the required brevity of my assignments at work, I find myself wishing that I remembered how to write stream-of-consciously, to write the way I did in my creative writing class as I walked down Italian streets, smelling, tasting, touching and translating my senses into words...when I had dreams of writing the next Great American Novel. I realize that I'm horribly out of practice. This is my plight, but not mine alone.

Thought-spiration

The following are quotes from Christine Mason Miller, an artist and participant in this year's Squam Art Workshop, which took place last week at the location pictured above in New Hampshire. How inspiring to be in such a beautiful place in the midst of so many genius minds! I love the expressive-ness of Christine's handwriting as she writes with vulnerable honesty about being inspired by the creativity of the women she encountered over the weekend.

Stepping Up

I’ve always shied away from voicing my political opinions. In an arena where I feel ill-equipped to speak from an informed and reasonable platform, I’ve silenced myself as a means of keeping the peace between the diverse groups of people in my life. I’ve run back and forth trying to placate everyone with my hippie “love, not war” philosophy. I think I’ve lost the will to speak up for myself. To be quite frank, I don’t think I even know what I want to say anymore.

In a song off Ben Harper’s latest album, he sings (pleads!):

I would rather take a punch than not give you a shot
I'd rather find out who you are than who you're not
Should have known better than to mistake business for love
Should have known better than to mistake a fist for a glove

It will be in your honor 'til you're not needed any longer,
Don't let them take the fight outta you,
Don't believe the headlines, check it for yourself sometimes,
Don't let them take the fight outta you,

The lies you live become you, the love you lose it numbs you,
Don't let them take the fight outta you,
They say that you've arrived but that's just a high-class bribe,
Don't let them take the fight outta you

I want my fight back! While I do desire PEACE, I also desire the return of my resolve. I’ve let myself become numb to the discourse, too timid to speak up and become a gentle, respectful participant in the conversation.

Visions of Mums and Asters

If I had an unlimited budget and/or no conviction about how I spend my money... I would get this Kim Parker rug for our living room. I wish the barter system were still in effect. Kim baby, have you tasted my peanut butter pie?

Flannel Jesus

This changes everything. I recently finished reading The Shack. I know, I know. I'm so cliche. But, I wanted to see what all the hullaballoo was about, so I read it. I think a lot of its theological dialogue went right through my mental sieve, but I did retain at least one GEM. And, it is the above mental image. Jesus in flannel.

Without disclosing too much information to the one person left on the planet who hasn't read it yet, the book focuses on one man's reconnection with the Trinity. He goes back to the site his daughter's death and meets the Three-in-one. And, from the way I interpreted the text, when the main character met Jesus for the first time, he was dressed like a page out of the Urban Outfitters catalog. I take that back... his worn plaid shirt was undoubtedly not over-priced, nor was it likely to have been manufactured to appear rugged. His was probably the real deal.

As the narrative unfolded, the story followed the protagonist's journey back toward communion with God. Memorable to me was the scene in which he and Jesus recline star-wards on a lakeside dock. Yes please! That kind of natural intimacy... that free-flowing, crisp-air easy conversation is what I want to be about. I want to lay beside this approachable Jesus and talk into the night.

I've had several ridiculous conversations with my best friends over the last several years. (And I hope and pray to have many more!) One, however, that will always rise to the surface for its unprecedented hilarity featured hearty debate over what Jesus would order at a Mexican restaurant (Barberitos, specifically). Is he a burrito man? Would he opt for tofu? Or does he strike you as nacho kind of guy? I thought about it as seriously as this absurd topic would afford.

Thinking about Jesus' humanity means everything to me. It means that he is not just fully celestial, un-touchable perfection. Of course, he is all of those things. But He is also every bit man. And, I plaidly await the day that we can sit dockside, eating burritos.