megfowler.com

June 21, 2008

i love my girls!

Filed under: love, getting out, vancouver — meg @ 4:42 pm

Last night, Cat, Ash and I went out to celebrate Ashleigh turning the ripe old age of 28.

I know.

SHE’S A BABY.

First, we headed out for tapas, which is pretty much the perfect way to eat from my perspective.

See, I’m easily bored when it comes to food, and I always have trouble planning meals ahead because I love to go to the store to see what’s fresh… and what I might want to eat RIGHT THEN.

(I know… it will all change when I have kids. But kids are WORTH IT.)

Not to mention that, since I really do like everything, I find it hard to choose JUST ONE THING.

But if I can choose what to eat but not have to choose just one thing?

I LIKE IT!

Here are the dungeness crab risotto fritters and the beef steak lasagna we tried last night, among other treats:

The restaurant had a great vibe, too…

Ash, in all her aged glory.

(Sorry about the blur… flash in restaurants might make people drop their forks!)

From there, we headed out to a patio to eat cheesecake and chocolate lava cake. Mmmm!

I LOVE PATIOS!

Seriously, nothing better than good friends, good food, and summertime.

Oh, and new sunglasses:

Hope your weekend is going beautifully!

June 15, 2008

every day is my dad’s day. or maybe that’s just what he told me growing up.

Filed under: love — meg @ 5:15 pm

Today is Father’s Day, which I view mostly as a Hallmark holiday (although I’m sure Hallmark has it pinned on someone else to avoid the appearance of occasion-inventing.)

Not that dads (and moms) don’t deserve some serious celebrating, but there might be more awesome ways to recognize them than a $6 card with swoopy embossed lettering and a mug.

However, as with Mother’s Day (and every other holiday that falls on a Sunday), my family doesn’t make a giant deal of it because my dad is busy all day being a minister. And his family was (and my Mom still is) generally busy all day being… well, his family.

If you’re a PK (pastor’s kid), you know the drill: you get to church earlier than all the other church kids, and you stay much, much later than all the other church kids. If there’s a “lunch”, you stay even later (including clean-up).

There’s a 50% chance your mother will be your Sunday School teacher (and in my case, my youth group leader.)

There’s a 75% chance either one of your parents will be singing/playing an instrument during the service. Once you get past the age of 14, there’s a good chance you’ll be drafted, too. This includes being part of a (seasonal? whimsical?) choir, which will have many, many people in it (or just a few, if the choir is tiny) who cannot sing.

Because you are a PK, you can sing. You don’t know how it works, but it does. Genetic freaks.

There’s a 100% chance your dad will preach, and with that, a 75% chance you’ll end up as part of a sermon illustration.

If you are goofing off, your dad will notice. He has a bird’s eye view, after all. If you goof off a lot, your mother will put her hand firmly on your shoulder from behind, and you will BE on notice.

This is why you sign up for nursery duty with other people your age. You get to be a goofball during the entire service and BABIES!

Getting to church at 8:30 am and leaving around 2 pm doesn’t leave tons of time for breakfasts or brunches, and by the time you get home for lunch, your dad would like you to celebrate Father’s Day by letting him eat and watch the baseball game (edit: thanks, Dad) until he has to go back to church in an hour or so to a) prep for the evening service, or b) lead a bible study.

This is fine. After all, it’s his day.

Which it is today. My dad’s day, that is.

And he celebrated it from the pulpit, as usual.

I wasn’t there to see it, but I can promise you that I know what it looks like, and it’s one of the dearest mental pictures I have in my head… and my heart.

Because I LOVE my dad. He’s actually the best dad on earth… no offense to yours, of course.

If you’ve been to my blog on May 12th of any given year, you’ve read about him and how I feel about him… but it bears repeating any day of the year. Which is why I mention it in many other posts, too. Just search on “dad” or “father”.

(Even try “dork.” heh.)

That’s just it, though: I’m lucky enough not to need a Father’s Day or a Mother’s Day, because I can tell my parents I love them and appreciate them pretty much any day I like.

I realize I’m very blessed in that. If you have a strained relationship with your family, you can depend on an occasion to make the meaningful words okay. That’s how it is for many people I know.

But I grew up in a home where people said, “I love you!” as often as they said, “Can I have the remote?” or “Pass the chicken…” or “Meaghan, can you use an inside voice?” and so it comes naturally to me to express it as frequently as I feel it.

Which is pretty much every day… even if I forget to send the email or make the phone call at that particular moment. I’ll do it soon enough.

But… my dad.

My dad is a man of intelligence, wit, integrity, passion, wisdom, opinion, grace, gentleness, kindness, strength and joy. He has a wonderful brain and a wonderful spirit, and he gives himself to everything in his life fully.

That includes being a dad.

If I need anything, I know I can call him. If I am hurt, I know he’d want to support me in my pain. If I am excited about anything, I can’t wait to tell him.

All in all, he does pretty damn well.

Which is not a word I ever used on a Sunday in his church, but I can say it now, and he laughs.

And that’s just one of the reasons I love my dad.

Which I’ll tell him today, of course.

But the other 364 days are up for grabs, too.

June 13, 2008

friday love list: back to the random, because… well, I am random. really random. so random i can’t stop typing RIGHT NOW EVEN THOUGH THIS TITLE HAS GROWN UNWIELDY AAAAA…

Filed under: love, listy — meg @ 11:56 am

Sometimes I come up with a theme for my Friday Love Lists.

Sometimes I don’t.

This week is a Don’t.

Well, not really a Don’t, because it went fine and I looked fine and I didn’t wear anything like this, but THERE WILL BE NO THEME.

NONE. DO YOU HEAR ME?

That’s right. LOVE WITHOUT STRUCTURE.

Much like the 70’s.

Remember that you should DEFINITELY do your own random love list in the comments or at your own blog, because hey… what better way to start the weekend than to fill your head with all the best things in life?

THINGS I LOVE

Tim Russert
Strong opinions backed up by grace
Mornings on the deck
San Diego
Dreams you remember
Come-from-behind victories
Stacks of unread magazines
Ira Glass
Baby Beluga Cam!
Wry jokes that take a moment to get… but an hour to get over the laughing
Olives
Lip gloss with burny stuff in it
The SUN IS OUT RIGHT NOW! SHHHH! NO ONE LOOK AT IT AND SCARE IT AWAY!
Dwell Online
Boys in flip flops
Mountain Ocean Skin Trip Coconut Lotion (SMELL LIKE A TROPICAL BEVERAGE!)
Orangina
Answering the phone with a noise instead of a word
Reactine antihistamines (I’ll never leave you again!)
My broken-in red Filofax
Having my back scratched
The smell of grapefruit zest
Making my dad laugh
My pink sparkle ball from Justine
Potato salad
Non-fiction
Having a baby turkey named after me
Star spinning (if you’ve done it, you know what it is)
Trevor Linden
90’s r&b
Sonic toothbrushes
Black Tea-Lemonades at Starbucks (extra ice, no sweetener)
Convertibles
Hats and ponytails
Sunglasses on my head
Food Network (especially Giada and Ina)
Spearmint gum
Moleskines
Folding my whites
Camp memories
Mixtapes
Fresh pedicures in pale shades(to accentuate the tanned toes)
New sheets
Peonies (especially white or hot, crazy pink)
Great dads

June 12, 2008

“an ‘old hockey guy’, but still a young man.”

Filed under: love, vancouver, hockey, radio radio, playoffs — meg @ 7:57 am

Those were Trevor Linden’s words at his retirement press conference today.

On the 20th anniversary of the 1988 draft that brought him to our city, he announced that he was leaving the game… and all over the city, even the tough guys got a bit misty trying to imagine the Canucks without Captain Vancouver.

He’s the face of our team, a natural leader, and the classiest ambassador of the sport we’ll ever have.

(I’ve even dropped his name around here a few times.)

One of my favourite things about him is that he isn’t the classic “celebrity athlete” with the bling and loud mouth and ragtag entourage. He seemed genuinely thankful for his career and his involvement in the sport, and humbled by any attention he got.

Which is why he seemed surprised and even a bit embarrassed by all the emotion at his last game in the NHL… a game I was actually at, which was fantastic.

Here were my thoughts at the time, on the radio with Buzz Bishop (who actually gave me the tickets — thanks, my friend!):

Here’s how we looked that night (yes, we were being silly… it was actually really fun to be there):

Here’s how he looked that night — every time his face came on the jumbo screen, the crowd went nuts:

We also went nuts when they showed his parents on the jumbo screen — you raised a good one, Mr. and Mrs. Linden:

Here’s Trevor with Fin, the Canucks’ mascot:

And here’s the entire Flames team lining up to say goodbye to Trev, although his retirement was still just a rumour:

It definitely felt like the end of an era, though we didn’t know for sure.

And what an era it was.

I can’t think of another player in the NHL who has engendered such a LOVE from a city like our Trevor. For many of us who enjoy hockey around here, Trevor IS our team… the heart, the soul, the class, the work ethic, the dream.

No one else shows that kind of dedication on the ice. No one else commits so much time to charity work in the city. No one else has maintained such an ironclad reputation for grace and fairness.

As my friend Jay (the biggest hockey fan I know) said via email yesterday:

“Trevor is the heart and soul of the Canucks and a man I will always look up to. He was a player that wore his heart on his sleeve and always played his best when it mattered. He is the best example of a guy that played for the crest on the front of his jersey, not the name on the back. He always put the team, fans, and everyone else before himself, he was a class act in everything he did and said, and that is why he was able to put a team on his shoulders and carry them as they followed the best leader in Canuck history… Perhaps even hockey history. There is a reason I proudly wear my Trevor Linden jersey and look forward to seeing it hang from the rafters of GM Place forever. No question, my favourite player and I find it hard to believe he will ever be replaced. He is the man.

If he was a girl, I’d leave my wife for him.”

(He’s kidding… I think.)

And from my friend Jaegen (another huge hockey fan, and my fellow mocker of Jay in our hockey pool):

“I would say that, of all of the disappointments over the last few years, the biggest one for me is that Trevor will never hoist the cup. That was the first thing I thought of while watching the Red Wings do that the other day. You know Markus would have just brought it straight to him, like Sakic did for Borque. That would have been nice.”

Amen.

Here’s me with Buzz again, yesterday, after Trevor’s announcement…

And the goofy little haiku I just said there… (because it’s not nerdy enough just to say it, I have to publish it…)

our best canuck man
cool on the ice, and hot off
legend, hero, stone cold fox

(Yes, I laughed the entire time I was writing it, but he IS cute.)

Here’s to you, Captain Vancouver.

You were the “C” even when you weren’t the “C”… and will continue to be in our hearts for a good long time.

June 11, 2008

just because it grows on a tree doesn’t mean you can eat it!

I am a camp girl.

I spent almost four and a quarter years of my life (over the span of 14 years) working at a summer camp on an island an hour off the Vancouver coast. I did it through high school, through years of university, and through jobs that allowed me the time to go and follow my little camp heart.

I started as a junior counselor at barely 15, dealing with 12 new monkeys every week, and teaching windsurfing and snorkeling. From there I did everything that I could possibly do on staff until I ended up in charge of the place year-round.

That added another 27 months in the office in the city, wrangling budgets and hustling to raise money and dealing with nonprofit crap and answering random parent questions and conducting more than 700 staffing interviews with people aged 15 to 82.

So when it comes to camping, I know my stuff. Mostly.

People ask me all the time why I did it for as long as I did it — especially if they never did camp or HATED IT (and I know a lot of you folks).

I suppose the best answer I can give is twofold:

First, I loved it. I loved being outside. I love kids. I love being active. I love being silly. I love people in general. No other job has ever worn me out in such a jolly way. And as wonky as the 18-hour days were, and as minimal as the pay was, you couldn’t really do much but be thankful when you woke up to a crazy sunrise and 220 kids happy to be alive.

Second? I saw the value in it every single day. The value of getting kids out of the city, the value of giving them an opportunity to learn something new, the value of making new friends and learning to interact with others in a positive way, and the value of stepping away from “normal” life for a bit… all of it made sense.

There are a ZILLION worse jobs you could do. I always knew that, no matter how tired or dirty or overwhelmed I got.

That doesn’t mean it was always easy.

It wasn’t easy when I had to file abuse reports for children that had gone through hell at home. I felt like gravity was sucking me into the ground when I had to tell our assigned caseworker that we had a little boy covered in bruises that weren’t caused by falling off his bike, or a little girl that hadn’t stopped crying panicky tears since the boat left the dock, finally putting distance between her and her stepfather… who would later be arrested and convicted of things I still can’t talk about.

I never quite got used to doing it, though I did it dozens of times over the years. I can’t IMAGINE what it’s like to be a caseworker or a teacher or anyone who has to deal with it ALL THE TIME. I couldn’t. I admire you. I’m glad you’re there.

It wasn’t easy when I’d have a mom — a totally self-sacrificing woman who’d spent her last dollar on a cab to come to the boat with her two kids so they could get a weekend away from one of the roughest parts of the city — hand me a photo of her ex-boyfriend and ask if I could show the staff so they’d warn her if he found his way to the island.

Which he did.

And he found his way off the island, too, but not without the police taking their tiny speedboat over from the town across the inlet to read him several versions of the riot act.

I knew he’d be waiting for her when she got home.

But going home was what she didn’t end up doing… our caseworker was awesome, did I mention that?

It wasn’t easy when kids would bully one another, or someone would feel left out, or I’d have a teenage counselor who didn’t handle either situation well. I couldn’t stand the idea of a little person lying in their bed at night wishing they were anywhere else but where they were, though I knew it happened.

We did our best, but I couldn’t force kids to do or be things if those things didn’t make them comfortable. I’d rout out anyone who made them feel like that, but I knew the positive nature of the experience would never be universal.

Hell, I walked away from my first week at 10 with a broken toe, a mouthful of canker sores, many traumatic experiences with bugs, and the worst counselor ever. I believe she was fired the following week for hitting one of her campers (!)

After all, when you’re a kid, leaving your family for a week and dealing with a ton of folks you don’t know can be a pretty weird thing. When I hear about the months-long residential camps in the States, I can’t IMAGINE how kids OR counselors deal with it. Or parents, for that matter.

Maybe we’re just pansies here in Canada (though we’ll beat you up if you say so.)

(And I DID stay for the whole summer as soon as they would let me… so there!)

Finally, it wasn’t easy when I broke a few ribs, or broke my nose, or fell on a wasp’s nest, or got pneumonia, or got food poisoning, or got a staph infection from a tiny cut on my ankle that turned into a near-amputation situation. I ended up losing 38 pounds in two weeks (match THAT, Oprah) and lost my stomach lining to four rounds of IV and oral antibiotics.

I learned to be tough. There are a zillion things worse than being injured at camp. Once you got it in perspective, you’d know you were lucky to be where you were again.

All in all, the experience exposed me to the best and worst in people, just like life tends to do anyway. And you can learn lessons anywhere… but I feel pretty blessed I got to learn them in that environment.

(And did I mention that I worked with gorgeous boys and got a fantastic tan and got to spend DAYS in the water? Yes.)

To sum it all up, I’d like to present you now with the 20 most important things I learned at camp in the space of those 14 or so years (not including the FUNDAMENTAL lesson in the title of this post.) Take it with many grains of salt, and maybe a shot of Tabasco.

WHAT I LEARNED FROM BEING A CAMP GIRL

1. The key to being able to deal with your worst phobias (snakes, spiders, bees, rodents, heights, water, etc.) is to have to help ANOTHER person deal with that phobia… especially a small person. I was amazed at what I could handle when I had no choice but to keep my head together.

2. Some people just aren’t morning people. Don’t screw with that. Especially with a megaphone.

3. If you want to make a non-morning person laugh in a gentle, non-invasive way, just lead 220 kids in dancing to Tchaikovsky, ABBA or Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass in their pajamas. I swear. Works every time.

4. Gossip — though it may be at the heart of most entertainment reporting and the true purpose of all nail salons — is the fastest community killer known to man. Just open your mouth and watch things fall apart. I quickly realized that the people who knew all the “dirt” usually got their dirt at the expense of both work and relationships and integrity. And sometimes those priorities got them fired.

5. Never put a laid-back person in charge of cleaning a kitchen or checking climbing equipment.

6. Never force a shy kid onto a stage if they don’t want to be on a stage. But if they ask for the mic, give it to them RIGHT AWAY. Those tiny bursts of courage can change the face of someone’s whole life. I have more examples than I can count.

7. Sleeping under the stars is the best way to feel the right kind of small… and the right kind of big.

8. Crushes are better than coffee for getting you out of bed in the morning.

9. If your first response is to yell, see if you can go for a walk first. Unless it involves teenage boys. Then go right ahead.

10. Don’t invent a rule to deal with a single situation. The best way to make a situation keep happening is to create a rule.

11. Better solutions to problems come when you get the right people involved, as opposed to just more people.

12. Actual acts of love mean much more than loving words. But if you can do both? Score.

13. Sticks and fire are the greatest enemies of order and reason known to man. But a s’more is worth the risk every time.

14. You can get in much more trouble talking than you can by listening.

15. There are few things as powerful on this earth than a parent’s love for a child. Think very hard before you get in the way. And if you have to, don’t stop thinking the entire time.

16. Expectations and grace are two things every leader should have in spades.

17. Passion and dedication can often outrank skill when it comes to learning how to do a job right. Unless that job involves heavy machinery.

18. The chance to try something new is one of the best gifts you can give someone, whether it’s a huge challenge or a little task. An even better gift is giving them the chance to try again if it doesn’t work out the first time.

19. Being part of a child’s life is an honor, whether it happens for an hour, a day, a week or a lifetime. Even when you are pretty much ready to honor them upside the head.

20. Whatever you think you know, there is a thousand times more stuff still left to learn.

yes, yes… I know what’s being advertised.

Filed under: love — meg @ 7:37 am

But this made me SO happy.

June 6, 2008

friday love list: it’s all about YOU.

Filed under: love, listy — meg @ 10:04 am

I am “in love” with a lot of things in life, from sunshine to coffee to the ocean to whatever song I’ve got on constant repeat right now.

In fact, I use the word “love” all the time. Right here on this blog, even.

Some people might say that devalues love or makes it less of a big deal than it should be, but I’m not terribly concerned.

I know that when it comes to “real” love — the love you feel for the important people in your life, the love you put into the world — I’m pretty good at getting my point across with or without words.

But today? Words are exactly what I want to use.

Today’s Love List is dedicated to all the things I love in and about the people in my life.

Not naming names, mind you, but just celebrating ALL the things — silly, small, medium, big and HUGE — ALL of you bring to my world that humble me and fill me and turn my heart into pure squoosh.

I don’t feel worthy of all the blessings, but you don’t seem to care. You just pour it out, and for that?

Thank you.

(Feel free to write your own list in the comments, or pop one up on your blog, and send us the link!)

THINGS I LOVE ABOUT Y’ALL

You encourage without hesitation.
You know the exact moment to say the exact best dry, witty thing… and you bring the house down.
You tell people you love them every single day.
You take delight in recording the world with your camera — and I adore the details you capture.
You expect the best, but forgive the misfires.
And you forgive them completely.
Your eyes shine when you tell stories.
You make kids feel safe.
You choose words with care.
The sound of you playing guitar is home for me.
You talk with your hands to the point where you might catch some air.
You remember people’s names.
The stuff in the back of your car is like a collage of your week… and it makes me laugh every time.
You get knocked down, but you don’t stay there.
Your hair could take over the planet.
Your faith is quiet but huge.
You enjoy yelling from the stands, too.
You are the MacGyver of an empty fridge.
You speak into situations, and actual change happens as a result.
I love the way you blush when people say kind things to you.
Your dimples are perfect.
Your energy lights up the room.
The way you believe in your kids is an example to every other parent around you.
Your wisdom is much greater than your years.
You got up and danced anyway.
You never make fun of me for snoring.
I love how you send me random texts that make me laugh at the wrong and best times.
Your brain wraps around ideas and won’t let go. I love your tenacity.
You own your mistakes.
The talents you have that completely astound me — how do you DO that?
Your ability to sing harmony to anything makes road trips fun.
You get my jokes. No matter how stupid they are.
I love your giant dreams and your inability to downsize them.
You listen better than anyone else I know.
You twirl when you try things on.
Your hands are a map of hard work.
You go out of your way to make others feel at ease.
You remember events in my life, and ask me about them later.
Your insane, unhinged laugh is the highlight of ANY night.
You aren’t afraid to say you don’t know.
You got better, against all the odds.
You used to bring me iced tea when I was working the windsurfing dock so I wouldn’t get dehydrated. That’s typical of who you are.
The way you look at your wife inspires me to hold out for a good guy.
You don’t mind if I get emo — and you know how to joke me back out of it.
You can fix absolutely anything. Handiest guy ever.
You laugh until you cry every time.
You have patience that Job couldn’t touch.
You loved me first, and still love me best.

And here are some songs to tell the rest of the story:


June 3, 2008

bubblegum in snoopy pencil boxes, bees in the back window, bears in the mountains, beaches in the distance, and the best days ever.

Filed under: love, getting out, holidays — meg @ 12:10 pm

I come from a road trippin’ family.

I consider this a HUGE gift in my life.

I remember slurping soda through a straw, searching for new treats in the seat-back pockets my mom designed and sewed for such occasions, and singing my heart out to songs I knew and songs I didn’t.

I remember thousands of jokes no one but us would ever get.

I remember the fuzzy top of our dog’s head in my footwell, the only place she would ever ride.

I remember getting dizzy reading and having to stare straight ahead for an hour and chew Stimorol not to feel queasy.

I remember white shirts with rubbery sparkle letters and pink shorts and yellow flip flops, kicked off as soon as I sat down.

I remember doing road sign math, and trying to figure out what a kilometre really looked like.

I remember my mom’s head on her pillow against the window, and my dad smiling at me in the rearview mirror every time she would snore and I would laugh.

I remember bees in the back window, and my brother’s valiant efforts to save me from their blackyellow fuzzy doom.

I remember marveling at waterfalls on mountain sides and suddenly needing to pee.

I remember rocks dinging the windshield and my dad’s deep sigh.

I remember my brother and I lying foot-to-head across the backseat, covered in a blanket, ordered to sleep for a bit in the dead of night.

I remember how quickly my brother could fall asleep.

I remember flipping through Archie comics by the light of an LCD calculator lit up with 8888888 until my dad told me I needed to sleep, too.

I remember a sky full of stars that I’d finally see when the car was dark, and like nothing was ever so big before.

I remember feeling safe, no matter what.

I hope I find me a road-trippin’ man.


May 31, 2008

going all the way.

Filed under: love, hockey, playoffs — meg @ 4:23 pm

I love playoffs.

When it gets down to the final eight, the final four, and WOO! the final two, I’m obsessed.

It doesn’t even need to be a sport I watch regularly, or if anyone else within 1,000 miles wants to come over and watch it with me. It doesn’t even need to be true finals, per se… just a game that means something.

Hell, if there’s a cup/trophy/plaque/crumpled piece of paper with “Congrats!” scrawled on the back up for grabs, I’m ready to choose my team and cheer.

Mind you, when it’s a sport I follow regularly, I’m twice as excited.

Which means that when the NFL is winding down in the winter or March arrives in the NHL or if the Mariners actually remember to TRY for a season, I’m as happy as a clam in my foam hand.

I’ve watched every game in preparation for the tense moments. I’ve earned the right to bounce around like a junebug in a lantern when we score.

But you can also give me the Celtics and the Lakers in the big nostalgia NBA finals, and I’m just as happy. Or March Madness. Or all the college football bowls. Or big moments in IndyCar.

In fact, if you pointed at two snails mating on the grass and said, “Look! Playoffs!”, I’d probably go looking for CrackerJacks and then come back to watch for a few hours.

I remember being in soccer finals or field hockey finals or big track meets back in the day, and feeling like my head was going to pop off my body from the intensity of the experience.

Now I’ve just carried that joy forward to the stands or the pub or my living room. And unlike back then, it’s okay for me to swear if we lose!

Some people will go out of their way not to miss reality television or science fiction shows or soap operas or sitcoms or American Idol or So You Think You Can Dance or even a big storm on the Weather Channel (actually, I’m right there with you on that one.)

But this girl loves the roar and intensity of a hometown crowd, the post-season beards, the horns honking on the street after a big win, and everyone rocking their jerseys on game days.

It’s a sickness, maybe.

But I HOPE I NEVER GET WELL.

GO PENGUINS! GO CELTICS! GOOOOOOO!

May 23, 2008

friday love list: good stuff. and lots of it. because it’s friday, dammit.

Filed under: love, listy — meg @ 3:10 pm

I’m ready for the weekend.

I mean, I’m generally ready for a weekend the moment the weekend ends, but I’ve been awfully sleepy and injury/crisis prone this week.

How so, you say?

(Try saying that eight times fast! Or just the once! That’s fine, too!)

Well, this span of seven days included all of the following:

    Being pursued by a rabid butterfly in my living room
    Falling off the railing of my deck into a chair, and then a table, and then the door
    Getting a bit of basil stuck in my eye for an hour, during which I began to see in Italian
    Forgetting to put the top on the blender
    Almost leaving my house without pants
    Sending someone named Chris an email addressed to “Christ”
    Exploding a bottle of Perrier on my shirt
    Walking into a door that should have been automatic
    Pulling a muscle folding laundry
    Being posthumously attacked by a skunk
    Inserting a toothpick into the palm of my hand

I’m ready for some smooth sailing.

And some love.

As always be sure to write your own list in the comments or pop one up on your own blog.

Love is the best way to end, begin, and survive any week. And those who write lists about love are destined to love a little harder the whole year through.

I have no proof of this, but we’ve already covered the amount of proof I need for anything.

THINGS I LOVE

Late 90’s R&B
Chair dancing to the above
Making mixtapes
Lemon potatoes (by my newly perfected recipe)
White tank tops
Skim milk
Quoting any of the following, though it makes me an impossible dork: Homestar Runner, Star Wars (mostly Chewy: AAAAAUUURRRRR), Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, So I Married An Axe Murderer, Monty Python, and Office Space
Nerf balls
Nectarines
Castanet solos
Bacon
MLB
Ira Glass (STILL!)
This song
Giant hoop earrings
The ocean
Clean sheets
Men in dark frame glasses
Antihistamines, bless their little hearts
People who can wink effectively
Laughing until my stomach twists into happy knots
Playoff hockey, even if it isn’t My Boys
Our lilac tree
Malie Kauai Lotion
Big white purses
The SUN!
Aloo Gobi and naan
Cafe au laits
Super fat bumblebees who ate too many donuts and ain’t stinging nobody, no how but CAN I PLEASE HAVE A FLOWER TO SIT ON
Stuff White People Like (oh, the irony)
Iced black tea/lemonade with lots of ice
Metallic ballet flats

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