Monday, September 29, 2014

"To Die Will Be a Great Adventure"

I truly believe that the best way to learn about your city is to visit the cemetery.

Museums are dandy. But here you can experience history and the sunshine, meditate on the (often short) lives of humans who loved and overcame devastating odds, and simply enjoy the heebie jeebies sans the screaming of bored hungry children.

No ticket. No line for the washroom. And no gift shop.

As a City of The Dead, Forest Home Cemetery is part manicured garden, part museum, part sculpture gallery, part woods, part memento mori and ALL spooky.  Let's explore...

Where have you been wandering, Kittens?

Happy Haunting,

Friday, September 26, 2014

The Things I Won't Write

  I owe you an explanation for the radio silence.

It was a little messy: figuring out why I write, being bored to tears reading regurgitated self help-productivity-wunderkind oatmeal,  questioning my motivation for blogging, and being frustrated by the shit storm of click bait...


Ya know, a bout of Vain Art School bullshit. A mild psychosis.

But it got me thinking about you. About us. 

Every blog workshop, class, discussion or book I've ever invested in hammers the necessity of "creating"  content that is of VALUE to your CUSTOMERS. Your content must provide a reliable PRODUCT.  

The List is the most common example:

15 Ways To Tell How Old You Are
40 Pictures of Yuppies Enjoying Brunch
Top 12 Uses for Jelly Beans In The Bedroom
100 Toys From The 80's You Won't Remember Because You Weren't Born

And my favorite:

 Ya Know Being 26 Is Hard, Just Take A Bath You'll Feel Better and Other Over Simplified Slumber Party Remedies

They advise to give the Customer bullet points and stock photography for easier posting because no one reads. (???)

I would sit down to pen you a love letter and be snuffed by the realization, 

"It's not useful to them. You're not an expert. You are not an authority. Your life is not exceptional. Zero fucks are given. This is vain and you're vain. And your outfit sucks."

The lap top would be closed. The Post dead before it was born. No Product created. Months passed.   

"You can't just share stories with people...right?"

The first blog I ever loved documented the journey of a woman living in the wilderness and her daily struggle with fibromyalgia while her husband served in the military .

I visited every day.  I became invested in her life. It wasn't a RELIABLE PRODUCT that made me more efficient, effective or attractive

It was perfect. It was her sharing. It was a story. 

That's what I want to bring you, Kittens--stories. Stories about my city and the things I adore in hopes that you love them too. I don't want to bring you vague bologna about "fixing" yourself or insult your intelligence. 
You are not my customer. You are a fellow Adventurer.

There are millions of rabbit holes for you to dive down in the internet ether and I deeply appreciate that you visit this particular rabbit hole. I so enjoy the time we spend together..

Thank you, Dear Reader. It's always good to see you.

Until Next time, Puddings.



What blogs do you love to read? Where are you searching for content? Meow it in the comments!

Sunday, September 21, 2014

Undoubtedly Enchanted

This time of year fills me with a sense of urgency. Summer is slipping away, the days are brief, autumn is approaching, another year is disappearing... 

Green things are just beginning to sleep, which looks quite a bit like death. I believe there is a subtle anxiety in that realization which fuels our obsession with Fall and the accompanying mania:


However, this time of year...every feels like we achieve a Vision that makes everything different.

The mundane is skewed somehow and reveals itself a new way.

Take yesterday afternoon for example...

While on the hunt for a hot chocolate on a Sunday like any Sunday, the trail shifted and it became clear the city is undoubtedly Enchanted. 

Castle spires looming, mythic monoliths covered in runes and casting purple shadows, directions to secret doorways all hiding in plain site.

Go find them, Kittens.

Wishing you a Magic Monday,

If you enjoyed this post, you might also like these magical nuggets.

Let's play on Instagram.

Saturday, September 20, 2014

An Unlikely Paradise

Dearest Garden,

I remember when you were born. It was only one summer ago that we were dragging bags of garbage and rogue dildos off of the grass.

We planted a row of  sunflowers and seeded zinnias. You bloomed and were quite lovely.

Then something changed.

Tomatoes, squash, pumpkins and tender bean shoots moved in. Wildflowers spread. Dill, parsley, thyme, hot peppers and zippy radishes grew.

New neighbors appeared: delicate spiders, bumble bees, more butterflies than I'd ever seen in the city and a rabbit with a gimpy foot.

You became an Unlikely Paradise. 

We began to obsess over what to feed you-- keeping a heaping brackish pile of coffee grounds and egg shells, rubbing our mitts together and whispering, "Next year".  I visit you first thing in the morning to inspect for any minute changes or surprises and document the successes like a pageant mom.

At night, I pull back the curtain and check to be sure everything is peaceful in Eden.

Other times, I would sit in you to enjoy the sun and muse about your empire. Next year...

You made us into crazy people. And I love you for it.

I'll admit I had gardened before you and have slain many a house plant. (I'm sorry.)

But there is something all together different and life affirming about growing food. It is nutritive and invigorating.  Upon seeing the pink rump of a radish emerging, I am pulled back to summer days at my grandparents house eating dirt covered carrots bathed with a garden hose. They tasted like pennies and sun.

I love you grandma. I love you grandpa. 


Not only did we meet secret creatures and travel through time, but you changed my whole relationship with food. You feel much differently about throwing out a mealy tomato-like object you scooped up at the super market than you do a blushing piece of heaven fruit you have been babying for months.

That shit is like a diamond. Use it. Use all of it. Anything you can't use goes back to feed the garden.

Better yet, you want to share your feast with people. 

I know you can tell fall is approaching, (you're dirt, you know everything) but don't worry, Garden. We'll keep parts of you warm inside. We'll tuck parts of you in so you can sleep. Parts of you are cozy in jars in the pantry. Our spring will be incredible.

I can't wait for you to see yourself, Garden. I am so proud of you.

Your Devoted Helper,

Let's play on Instagram!