Written on the wind

Temperature: a sunny 20/68 degrees

Eating: trying to perfect the art of smushi, aprés le Royal Café of Copenhagen

Drinking: hmm, what's the perfect smushi companion? Aquavit? Hate it. Beer? This ain't your average smørrebrød. I'm going with C, champagne. There's a champagne for every food and occasion. Yes. I have smushi and champagne for lunch all the time. Not. Just messing around making a mess in the kitchen planning a tasty weekend treat. Shh. It's a surprise.

Watching: in the mood for something massive, dramatic, melodramatic, painting-with-picturish. Luhrmann or Malick. Sirk?

Listening: like I said, in the mood for something massive, dramatic, melodramatic, wall-of-soundesque. 30 Seconds to Mars? “Honest to God, I will break your heart / Tear you to pieces and rip you apart.”  

And dancing to Jessie J! It's all in the hips, sweetie darlings. Press yours to mine, look me in the eye, lemme take the lead, and let go. “If this is a dream, won't open my eyes / Am I asleep? No, I'm alive.”

Reading: something so good, it almost made me stop writing. You know, “This is it. Nothing to add, nothing to subtract. This is perfection.” (Not available in English. Sorry. Ooh, would looove to translate it. Would the mastery somehow magically rub off on me by association, do you think?)

Writing: just tossed I won't say how many Ks worth of words for obstruction of story.

Feeling: energized by the summer. No living thing thrives without warmth and light. OK, maybe some deep-sea creature. Ocean's daughters? Not so much.

Woke up with this song in my head

But what does it mean? I'm thinking Dita vs. I. I'm thinking maybe I feel too much and think too little and that maybe if I thought more and felt less I'd feel much better.

In the eye of the storm

Temperature: a gusty 15/59 degrees

Eating: berries from the garden. Such a dry summer it ain't much of a crop. Sure, it's raining now.

Drinking: more coffee in a minute, that thunder and lightning kept me up half the night!

Watching: Before Midnight, ASAP

Listening: to Concha Buika

Reading: Sarah McCarry's All Our Pretty Songs as soon as my copy arrives

Writing: something I hope will make a difference

Feeling: raw about leaves fallen off the family tree. Still. Always?

Another year

Temperature: a sunny and rainy 20/68 degrees

Eating: a death by chocolate kind of ice-cream

Drinking: some coffee in a minute

Watching: over the kids as they run in, "It's raining!", and right back out, "It stopped raining!"

Listening: to The Black Keys' El Camino

Reading: through my favorite Latam recipes

Writing: a menu for my birthday next Friday, a Friday!, now doesn't that just beg and bleed for a party?

Feeling: like the ringmaster of a three-ring circus. That's summer for ya. Or me, to be precise.

Far from the madding crowd

Happy Midsummer, dearest denizens!