Who knew Taylor Swift could be so jazzy?

Listen to this: 

LOVE STORY (Taylor Swift) meets VIVA LA VIDA (Coldplay)- piano/cello - JON SCHMIDT (purchase mp3 at http://www.jonschmidt.com)

A Sunday Psalm

Well Said

"Obviously, people are the most important thing, but books and things make the whole rigamarole so much nicer."
attribution: here.

Thumpety Thump Thump

Thumper's mama says: "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all."

Sage advice from a fictional bunny that has stood the test of time. If unable to insert something worthwhile, productive, and/or amusing into the conversation, I used to be a lot better about shutting it. I even received the following compliment-of-all-compliments several times because of it:

Cory, you don't say much, but when you do, it's worth a listen.

I fear that I'm not that girl anymore -- that I speak up more than I ought, that my words don't hold the weight that they did. Perhaps it's confidence that has been the culprit. Maybe it's just a growing vanity, the haughty assumption that people actually care about my two cents.

It's time to tip the balance back: to listen more, to chatter less.

The Pause that Refreshes

I crave the untouchables that I used to unblinkingly devour.

I hunger after the movies, the books, the tastes of my childhood.

The ones that, have over time, climbed the tree

to become forbidden fruits. 

I miss the guiltlessness of watching, reading, swallowing --

of savoring my culture bath

of pruning from a long soak.

Thanksgiving on Memorial Day

Today, I'm giddily grateful for: 

sleeping in | lingering over two cups of coffee on the screened porch | lemon/blackberry muffins | good conversation with a roommate on the back porch | neighborhood bike rides | homemade granola | eventual sunshine | productivity paired with easy slowness

I'm Intrigued

After a movie dry spell, I find myself quite taken with this Grey Gardens story: the original documentary and the soon-to-be-released HBO version about Jackie O's aunt and first cousin. 

Overgrown

"I've stopped cutting the roses in my yard, because I'm trying to stop intervening in their natural cycle."

I read this sentence, as it appeared in the publisher of skirt!'s blog yesterday. I immediately breathed a sigh of relief, somehow joining in the camaraderie I created between the two of us. I don't think she meant what I wanted her to mean. I'm the queen of "not intervening" with the natural world. Pictured above is my own backyard... a far cry from the manicured lawn I dreamt of having when moving into our 1920s Bungalow. Not only do I lack the time to devote to the jungle that is our yard, I have not an inkling as to how to cut, de-weed and beautify our small plot. Part of the problem is that I am easily demoralized. I'm a brown thumb, and seem to have the touch of death on every living thing that I aim to coach into growth. The weeds sprouting up all over our green grass don't seem to require loving attention, however. No, they do just fine flourishing on their own. What sweethearts.

In confession, I post this embarrassing show of neglect for two reasons:

1. To turn myself into the HOA before they come knocking at my front door. I know, it's an eyesore and it mars the good name of our lovely neighborhood.

2. I need (and want) to regain confidence that I'm can be a good steward of my natural environment.

3. I need help.

So, if you have an aptitude for yard-recovery, I have a weed wacker, a lawn mover, a bed of weeds with your name on it.

Kindly yours,

Cory

Meet Mavis

She was my grandmother's, but now, she's my ticket to ride.

A Little Catch-Up

So, it all started just a pinch over a week ago. I was on the open road, headed home to Georgia. Before me lay NINE work-free days, a week at the beach and a suitcase full of unread books. I was feeling quite footloose and fancy free. The short drive east permitted time to throw any remaining cares to the wind whipping just outside my car window. Thoughts of uninterrupted vacation created in me an insatiable appetite for sand, sun, good literature and goooood food...

With Mother's Day just a couple days away and a promise to furnish brunch for a small table of seven, I started on the hunt for a menu of light fare. I promptly decided on this savory quiche, paired with these fruitlicious muffins, washed down with these refreshing bevs. Such a mouthful of flavors only served to whet my appetite for more adventures in the kitchen. I finally tested out this DIY nutella (che bello!) 

After I devoured this scrumptious book in the span of a few hours, I was hungry for more culinary experimentation. 

I started with a home-ground hummus: a little tahini, a couple a cans garbanzos, a splash of lemon, a tad of garlic and a sprinkle of salt. 

Then, thanks to page 192 in Molly Wizenberg's homemade handbook, I roasted these beautiful tomatoes (with the intent of making the pesto, detailed on page 193). Have you ever beheld such lovely maters?

Those in the oven, I moved onto granola bars. My own version included flax seed, oats, dried cranberries and raisins. I mixed up a "glue" of peanut butter, vanilla extract and agave nectar. When this didn't seem to do the trick, I added a bit of brown sugar, butter and honey. What began with the intent of making a healthy snack ended up an effort just to get those suckers to stick together. I'll do better next time. You live, you learn and in the meantime, you wear elastic waistbands. 

Lastly, I whipped up these quick and buttery scones a la Martha. I replaced the blueberries with blackberries. Oh, Martha. You've really done it this time.

Sad to see this week come to a close. I do, however, return as one completely sated - in more ways than one. 

What Love Does

"Obligation can pour a glass of milk, but quite often, 

love adds a little chocolate."

-Linda Anderson

Diversified

The light that hits this prism surface wastes no time. It scatters in a million directions away from its source. Each fragment of light may be beautiful, but it is small. It may be brililant, but it is lonely. I sometimes feel that my own efforts are spread out similarly. I have a thousand outlets to be heard. I'm expected to produce here, to communicate here, to inspire confidence here, to update here and here. I'm hoping to begin contributing to this beautiful here. I have a mouthpiece. Heck, I have several. But, am I sacfricing the preciousness of my words? Am I cheapening something by sharing everything? I produce, produce, produce, often rushing to finish my thoughts, just for the sake of saving and closing. Sometimes my ideas are just trails that lead to nowhere. I start what I can't finish. I know that she gets it. And so does she. Until I can grapple with how to maintain the quality of my work in the midst of this quantity-hungry season, I will write here, there, everywhere.