this past weekend, Dan and i flew to florida for his cousin Derek’s wedding. we had tons of fun – so much, in fact, that i think i’m still recovering!

one of the highlights was meeting the girl of my dreams… Jillian. sigh. she’s one of the bride’s good friends; more importantly, ahem, she works in marketing for CAMPBELL’S SOUP. double sigh.

Amber told Jillian about my soup obsession, so she wasn’t at all weirded-out by my fan girl enthusiasm – and frankly, my total lack of dignity when i found out she worked for Campbell’s (i practically threw myself at her).

i lobbied to become Campbell’s spokeswoman, but i doubt my crazy eyes helped promote the cause. if it doesn’t happen, that’s ok, i can console myself by reminiscing about this celebrity sighting.

Jillian kept referring to the picture above as “Ketchup and Mustard.” but i prefer to think of it as “Campbell’s Tomato Soup and The Girl Who Loved Her.”

a work in progress! i started this one last night. i’m itching to paint larger, so these next few paintings on paper are going to be practice runs for big girl canvases. when i was in school, i was envious of the oil and acrylic painters, who made work that hung on the wall like tactile objects. watercolor paintings on paper are so anorexic compared to the sturdy, physical presence of an oil painting.

i was pumped when i found these panels mounted with Arches Hot Press paper – it’s awesome that art supply stores are offering more display options for watercolor painters now. yay!

last monday night was like any other ordinary monday – we came home from work, watched Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations while we ate homemade spaghetti, and took Mr. Deuce for a walk. usually, we go to Erhler Park (earlier this summer, Dan dubbed it “Faraway Park” because he’s cute like that). on this particular night, Dan suggested we go to Wicker Park, which was fun because it’s always nice to change it up.

we could not have asked for a more perfect night: the sun was sleepily making its way to the horizon and a cool breeze whistled lightly as we walked through the Farmer’s Market area, past the fountain and basketball court to the far end of the park, where there’s an expanse of trees and grass.

Mr. Deuce found an orphaned tennis ball at the foot of a tree, so we played fetch with him. we never get tired of watching him run and hop through the grass (he’s just so damn cute!). oh, that grass – little clovers were peeking out from it. funny how sometimes your mind opens up, and gives way to an old memory: clovers! as i watched Deuce run through the clovers, i remembered a book my siblings and i used to read when we were kids – the little girl in the book made clover necklaces (maybe for her family’s baby calf?) i loved that book – and the waxy feeling of the clover stems when you tie two together with a knot.

we were being sweet on each other, standing on those shy clovers. i turned and looked out onto the park – the people laying on the grass, people reading on benches by the fountain, the trees banking the sky, which was turning pink. i remember thinking that even the stark retirement building looked pretty, right then. and i was so filled up with love: love of life, and love for my love. there we were, a happy little family of three!

and then that’s when i noticed Dan’s sweaty hand. ha! the poor thing was super nervous, but i thought he was sick. his face was getting all blotchy, and his ears were turning red. was he feeling ok? maybe we should head home? no.

Dan pulled a beautiful antique ring out of his pocket, got down on one knee, asked if i would marry him and if i would go on an adventure trip with him – forever! of course, i said yes.

big, love-stuffed sighs.

♥ … and now… for some of our little love artifacts ♥

ok, so this isn’t a little artifact. it’s a doozy. Dan knew i would love a ring that already had some life tucked away in it – he found this gorgeous vintage engagement ring from 1918-1920, featuring an old european cut diamond set in an intricately detailed band of platinum with four bead set diamonds. it is so pretty, so delicate and so perfect. it feels right at home on my skinny, wrinkly Golem finger!

Dan’s mom & sister sent me this beautiful bouquet. it was waiting for me at work when i returned from lunch. the flowers are from Asrai Garden, my favorite boutique in our neighborhood. i’m drying the flowers so i can enjoy them for a long time!

being silly on the beach in Mexico.

our spoiled pup. or, Deuce in a blanket.

at Copper Mountain in Colorado. i was sleepy from the spa.

sushi with our San Francisco pals.

leaving the Post Ranch Inn. one of the most beautiful places we have ever experienced.

Dan’s 32nd birthday.

Mr. Deuce’s morning “clean Dan’s head” ritual – we think he likes the sandpaper texture of Dan’s shaved head. ha!

Publican oysters & other delights in our bellies.

posing for fake engagement photos this past weekend.

one of my favorite cards from awhile back. i love his wonky handwriting, and the way he signs his name like a 5 year old. more than that, though, i’m excited about our ride together, too. yay!

(this morning, on our balcony).

… oh, and one more …

mischief! pure lovable mischief!

sigh. i just finished reading Miranda July’s short story collection, No one belongs here more than you. (as modeled by Mr. Deuce). i was super excited to snatch up a copy when it was first published in 2007, but i was addicted to the library back then, and the book had about one gazillion people on its waiting list. when i remembered to stalk it, i would pop into a bookstore, but it was always on some sort of waiting list – or, i guess i was the one on a waiting list.

after awhile, i began to resent the book, and tried to put it out of my mind. i succeeded until a couple weeks ago when i became ravenously hungry for a good read, and though to myself, Oh, there’s such a thing as the interwebs, and i can order whichever book i like and it will be delivered to my doorstep like a newborn baby swaddled in a stork beak. hurray, no waiting list!

Miranda July loves her characters; yes, she lets their minds wander – no abbreviation, just pure meandering rawness; she lets us listen to this unfiltered goodness and badness; after they snap awake from their inner dialogue comas, we hear them censor themselves – comparing, judging, accepting, rejecting, squeezing into; we hear human beings in fragment, and we hear her cobble them together. that gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling. like a good cabernet.

i ate up the words as quickly as possible because they tasted so damn good, but now i’m left with that sad, empty feeling that comes after you’ve finished unwrapping all your presents. the good thing is that words like hers make me want to write. i like when that happens.

i felt like drawing a goat today, so i drew one.

my mom fell in love with Jenny Lake in 1970 while she and my dad honeymooned in Wyoming’s Grand Teton National Park. forty years, five kids and six grandchildren later, my parents decided to retrace their honeymoon steps (minus the camping) by returning to the Tetons for their anniversary this past june.

my parents visited us a couple weekends ago, bringing along two photo albums, one of their recent trip, and the other of their honeymoon. it’s been a long time since i’ve seen their honeymoon photos, and i have to say, i am completely enthralled with them – maybe because i’m now 10 years older than my parents are in the pictures or because the warmth of the weathered photos holds an inherent nostalgia, or perhaps, like any kid studying photographs of their parents as young adults, i am struck by the simultaneously strange and familiar faces staring back at me.

they’re in Milwaukee here, just outside my grandparent’s house, about to leave for their honeymoon. mom still stands like this when she’s feeling shy about getting her picture taken – head cocked inward, one hand hiding in the other; my dad still stuffs random pens, paper and other accouterments into his breast pocket, and lots of times, stands proudly, hand on hip.

isn’t my mom’s flower blouse so pretty?

this picture is amazing. and not because of the buffalo in the background.

i absolutely love this picture of mom. i love her red striped shirt and her cute canvas shoes. mostly, i love the way she’s squint-smiling at the camera.

dad feeds a cute little mountain creature.

here’s another pretty one of mom.

dad at Jenny Lake.

a little windswept on the tundra.

i love that mom was taking photos of flowers even then. the woman takes more photos of flowers than anyone i know. i wonder what she does with them all?

mom in a bug.

dad on the trail.

i like the silliness going on in these two pics.

dad conquers the west.

on the back of this photo, in large cursive letters, my dad wrote: “Isn’t she pretty!!!!”

even without the inscription, this one – like most of these photos, feels like a stolen secret between my mom and dad.

sometimes, it’s hard to believe there was a short time when my parents were free from my siblings and i – and i don’t mean “free” in a sigh-of-relief kind of way. once, there was a dream of us. we were only hypothetical kids that would join them some time in the future. but that’s all we were then – faint, pretty dreams.

more immediately than us, there was a dream of the kind of life they wanted to share – the things they would accomplish, places they’d experience, cities they’d live, people they’d change, people who’d change them, houses turned to homes, people they would become, love that would steady and shape. life was vast and bright and malleable. it was theirs alone.

i marvel at these two people who, at this photographic & magical slice in time, are on the brink of their lives.

first anniversary

40 years together… love you, mom & dad!

you got cinnamon peepers
spicy little saucers in your sockets
i wanna pop ‘em in my mouth
i wanna slip ‘em in my pockets
save ‘em for later
savor them forever
your lovely, loving spicy cinnamon peeps.

rock, rock, rock
sure enough, it fits.

it’s a sunny day
and you are driving
“look at that cloud,”
you say pointing.
“it looks like a giant penis.”

i look at the cloud
sure enough, it does.

swish, swish, swish
go the tails of the horses
in the blurry fields.

the sun just hid
behind a cloud that looks like a cloud.
but i know it will come out again,
sure enough.

i had about eight sips of metropolis coffee
and read celebrity gossip.

i love the way your neck feels
between my palms while i kiss your face.
you have big soft lips
like the blueberries in my pancakes,
which is probably why i always
have to fight the urge
to bite them.

i said goodbye to you while
you were getting out of the shower.
you had little water droplets
all over your body.

i wanted to squoosh them.