of X and the spot

Oh oh oh it’s been a busy week. The kind where you fall into bed with a pff! on Friday night at 10pm (that being obscenely, “are you sick??” early round these parts). After… Continue reading →

of Spring being late to her own party

Spring is white wine and scratchy grass picnics. Spring is jam jars playing house on the pantry shelf. Spring is an odd ramshackle bird in the middle of the city. Spring is the… Continue reading →

of same-zone loving

Three years ago, I was in my hometown on Java, moving towards my wedding at a pace that felt like sludging through extra-creamy peanut butter. After giving our collective carbon footprint the finger… Continue reading →

of Elderflower Cordial, or living off the land

You’ve just licked the last gummy bit of rhubarb-anise syrup from the lip of your glass and now you need a new delicious drink DIY? Elderflower cordial, come on down! It’s a simple… Continue reading →

Of the 1-inch picture frame

A friend  asked me a few days ago why each of my posts is titled “Of….” My hero Anne Lamott has a tiny, 1-inch picture frame hanging above the desk where she sits… Continue reading →

of orange blood

Holland is a frenetic orange mess this month – the European Football Championship (soccer for you yanks) is upon us! A few weeks ago, I started noticing whole neighborhoods stringing up orange flags… Continue reading →

of the tip of my tongue

After the last two bookish blips, I thought I’d keep it matchy-matchy and say three words about writing. Only three though, because I reserve rambling for academic papers. I’m an introvert — every… Continue reading →

of more evil habits

Get ready for another round of confession — it was simply too therapeutic to admit to you yesterday that I have a roving literary eye. Here it goes: I always skim the last few… Continue reading →

of grazing

What kind of reader are you? I’m a grazer – always nuzzling about for a juicier blade of grass, a greener clump of leaves – and there is an ever-shifting clutch of books… Continue reading →

of the things my eye collects

I’m not sure if you also flit between reality and a literary fantasy land like I do, but today I lived this poem by Richard LeGallienne: I meant to do my work today,… Continue reading →