Open your eyes, it's springtime--

Freshess and lightness is coming; I feel it. And I am embracing oceans of hope.
This week I discovered a breathtaker of a book,


written by this alluring femme named Sophie Dahl.



It is the thinnest, loveliest read I have touched fingers on in quite some time. Who would ever have thought that fairy tales written for adults were just a stone's throw away on the nearest library's bookshelf? Not I. So this is a precious find for me.
If I were you, I would not hesitate to hunt this nombre down and thus give your eyes and heart a delicious feast. I felt a warmth while and after devouring the volume, but not in a stupid or cliche sort of way. I just felt lighter, happier...a smile playing on my lips paired with a quirky sense of spirit.

Here are a few bits of knowledge (albeit verging on the brink of irrelevant) I have acquired in the last recent while:

--feeding bits of buttery toast to a waif-like cat can result in painful results
--vodka meets apple juice meets cinnamon dust does not make for a delicious drink
--days lacing slowly past can actually be a friend, rather than a frusteration
--I am still prone to burning utensils when I cook
--birthdays, and the anticipation of them, is so so very nice.
--Charlotte Gainsbourg is still seductively amazing beyond measure.
--everything is really, truly that much funnier at 2:30 in the morning. chained to responsibilities at work. lying in a haggard booth under a fake sea of stars. waiting waiting waiting to slip home and beneath sheets.

Taking wing,
RB

Paint by numbers, paint it black.

It is laundry day for this tired face, and I am actually quite enjoying the process this frosty morning. I have peppermint tea scorching in our new (but ancient) mold-green teapot that is in fact shaped like a very wide-eyed chicken. Or maybe it is a rooster. My farm animal savvy is not the sharpest these days. Either way, home is a nice space to be when the coldness hangs outside in the air, so heavy that you can almost see it.
Time is a bit of a strange concept for me right now. It feels as if it is slipping by like the blink of soft lashes...I cannot lull it, yet I know this is a good thing. My days are draped with the familiarity of routine as of late. In a way, I like that. I feel that in the present, I am wearing it well. I am really beginning to savour my days spent often alone, and my later nights of cafe work. It is a temporary fit, I realize this, but for know it is better than okay; it is startlingly satisfying. I have a few interesting side projects on the go...messing around with words and with art, keeping my creative side somewhat less than starving. I have also been taking to my yoga mat far more in the past weeks, treading the blocks to my favourite space of heat and open-heartedness...having the sweat lace off my body...down my legs, along my spine, and across my cheekbones again and again. It is good to feel nourished in these ways. I have come to know afresh that I crave, among other things, creative expression and care slash challenge for my body--I need these elements in my world to keep me feeling focussed, achieving balance.
I feel the shift of seasons stirring again...thank God and the stars above...I know perhaps this sounds a touch mental seeing as it is minus thirty-fazillion and dropping in our city at present, but I think somehow that spring is nearer that we may realize. Or maybe I am falling into optimism as a last-ditch method of survival...
Regardless, I am ready to peel the layers of winter off. And I think I am pretty accurate in saying that we all are, by now. I am primed for rubber boots and bare arms, afternoon walks and iced coffee, the river aflow once again, bicycle hangouts and reading in the park.
Loves, nothing here's for sure (to quote a little Page France)...but it is nice to know that the changing seasons (whether early, late, or somewhere in between) are something stable, something unwavering. I like being able to remind myself of that, especially when things seem blurred or inconsistent. Okay and okay. I have officially spent too much time hunched over my slender computer's keyboard...here's to the day ahead. Happy birthday, dear Hilary. You are so so loved!
So long, farewell...(Meg, you can finish the rest of that lil nombre yourself, okay?!)
RB

tangled up in blue.

One love in my life rekindled with a new fierceness:







So. Effing. Good.


There really aren't the words to do this justice. Bob Dylan entrances. Has my worship, at the very least.
More, soon. I have stories to sling...