After four lovely years, I'm saying goodbye to Blogger. If you're interested, you can find my new home here.

THINGS TO LOVE:

1. Diane Keaton. At sixty-one, she's still the sassiest lass around.
2. The art of Matte Stephens.
3. Post-sneeze relief.
4. Being finished with all things academic until next year, and then studying children's literature!
5. The writing of Maria Luisa Bombal. So passionate and tragic with a healthy dose of Virginia Woolf-y touches.
6. This Flickr photo set {of course the fox is my favourite}.
7. Engagement Season. So many of my friends have become recently engaged! I know some find the summer nuptial frenzy tiresome, but isn't it also incredibly sweet and such a great time for cake-tasting?

Here's something I don't love: the Library Lurker is back! Some of you may recall my anguish from last summer when, every time I went to the public library, a creepy teenage boy followed me from aisle to aisle and stared at me through the shelves. I finally had to plan my weekly trips around when Bret could come with me because I was so unnerved {and the library is not Bret's favourite place}. But then suddenly the stalker vanished, and I never saw him again...until yesterday. Is it a summer thing, Library Lurker? Do you just enjoy prowling for nerdy, bookish girls from May through August? Hmmmmm. I think I need a burly library buddy with a very intimidating mustache.

Lately I've been studying blogs and books about the pursuit of non-traditional creative careers: occupations outside the cubicle. How fascinating to read about women who have shaped a lifetime career out of their passions: knitting, selling antiques, writing, painting, making music, and so forth. It's a grand ideal, but -- as many of these resources recognise -- it's not always easy to make a living being creative. Success requires business smarts as well as boldness, talent, and perseverance. The entire process just blows me away and makes me wonder how a pathetically non-crafty girl like myself could have a viable career simply by following my passions. Could I ever be a trampoline tester? A greeting card editor? A cat whisperer?

{One great book I've loved so far is called The Anti 9-to-5 Guide by Michelle Goodman. You can check out her helpful site here.}

Brothers, bikes, and bygone canines.

Even though I often bemoan how much cooler and more talented my brothers are than me, I'm actually very proud of this fact. I love being the middle child, the only girl, sandwiched between two artistic, intelligent (and protective!) brothers.

And here's one more reason the younger brother is cooler than me: he built a double-decker bicycle! It looks like this one:


And he pedals it around everywhere, just like the students who ride unicycles all over campus to be unique. In my opinion, a two-story bicycle is even better! There's only one problem with my brother's version: it has no brakes, so slowing and dismounting require a certain finesse -- something I lacked today when I flung one soaring giraffe leg over the seat and promptly flopped on the pavement. But for the five minutes I was perched atop its five-foot-four seat, whooping and yawping and pedaling around campus (while I was supposed to be working, no less!), I was having The Time of My Life.

* * * * *

In other news: Tenenbaum has a new home!

It took losing my heart, many nights of sleep, a week of my life, and hundreds of dollars, but I think I may have my happy ending after all. I just needed someone who will love him as much as I do, someone who will speak to him and declare in that annoying voice reserved for fat babies and animals that he is suchagoodboy. We've been through so much together, he and I, and I will be perfectly happy as long as he belongs to someone for keeps.

Thank you to everyone who expressed concern and tried to help me find a good home for Tenenbaum! I appreciate your thoughtfulness so much.

Sigh. Now it's just back to me, Bret, and these two:

Which I think maybe is the way it's supposed to be.

Ready to roll.

All right, I've had it. I'm ready. I'm ready to get rid of everything Bret and I own except:

1. my cardigans {I suppose underwear and pants are a must, too, if I'm to not get arrested.}
2. a few select books
3. our laptop
4. our cats
5. beauty/hygiene products {because really...you don't want me to do away with soap and shampoo.}
6. my boxes of writing and old letters
7. our fold-away dining table {the chairs fold up inside it! it's so small and perfect.}

I would probably think of a few other things if I considered it for a few days, but the point is that I don't need lots of furniture, knick-knacks, appliances, or even a real bed. I believe in living a life of gratitude for little luxuries, but sometimes I feel such a deep fury against our material possessions that I want to stand on a street corner encouraging strangers to take everything away.

"Our DVD player? Take it! Take our microwave and our sofas, too!"

Bret and I have two primary dreams in life: to live in an Airstream travel trailer full-time for a year, and to build a 900 square-foot Tiny Tumbleweed House {actually, the house is more my dream than his}. Even though he is a pack-rat of sorts and I have to give useless belongings away behind his back {Hi, Bret!}, we both love the idea of living simply and small. Lightly, if you will.

That's why we are so enticed by this blog written by an earth-conscious woman who, along with her husband and small daughter, travels around the country in an RV powered by vegetable oil. Seriously. Tell me that this isn't the cheeriest tiny kitchen you've ever seen...and it's on wheels!

Joanie may love Chachi, but Julie doesn't love Scott Baio.

Today in class I thought about Spain. I thought about it so long and fervently that when I walked out of the English building I expected to see Pamplona streets marbled with dirt and rain. I miss the green hills and the feel of the old towns, evoking both curiosity and a peculiar familiarity, and my mouth waters at the very thought of tostadas. Spain is the one place I think I could love for what it is, for all its cracks and age and sadness. I'm afraid everywhere else I go in my lifetime will feel spectacularly disappointing in comparison.

* * * * *

It just so happens that the post last week about my crush on Scott Baio was surprisingly timely, as tonight I watched an episode of a new show on VH1 called "Scott Baio is 45...and Single."

Apparently the premise of the show is to pinpoint exactly how Baio -- a hard-partying, selfish misogynyst -- can change his life and become a productive member of society...and maybe even find love!

This breaks my heart. I suppose I've carried around this ideal of Baio as the endearing Chachi or the affable Charles in Charge. But here is the tragic truth:

Scott Baio is a real jerk.

If he doesn't succeed in becoming a kind person by the end of this VH1 show, I'm pretty sure the damage to my fantasy life will be irreparable. Okay, Scotty, I'm giving you another chance to prove yourself worthy of my love. But only because at 45, you're still a dish.

Swoony Songs for a Thursday.

1. "The Story" by Brandi Carlile
2. "She's Mine" by Brett Dennan
3. "Last Request" by Paolo Nutini {really the saddest, most beautiful song I've heard in a long time.}
4. "See the World" by Gomez

And some jolly good trailers:

1. My Best Friend
2. The Jane Austen Book Club
3. Becoming Jane
4. Once

Ahhhh! Look at all this glorious white space! I was doing some blog decluttering while bored at work the other day, and in an uncharacteristic fit of vigor I ended up taking everything away -- a new beginning of sorts. I felt like shouting, "Take that! And that! Goodbye, ye old writings!" It really was the best time.

{However, I have not permanently deleted the old posts because I love your funny comments so much! I suppose I'm saving them for a rainy day.}