the list diaries: chapter 006 -- my mom's amazing life.

mom and me on my wedding day, October 12, 2013; photo by TRR Photo

the list diaries.
chapter 006.

that's my mom. my incredible, spirited, young-in-heart, cute and beautiful, creative mom. and someday I want to be like her and be able to enjoy my later life like she is. this is my someday list -- in part.

• all children must be grown and living away from home. they are welcome to return at anytime with their own families but this part of my life is for me and mr. brooks.
• land. countryside land. with hills. if there's a small body of water -- even better. and some woods. so owls can nest and bunnies can flee.
• pets. perhaps a couple dogs, a few cats, a jersey cow or two, maybe a few goats, a burrow, an alpaca, chickens, and a few ducks.
• a large kitchen to continue perfecting my family recipes and discover new dishes to try out. a wide expanse of cupboards to hold my dishes collection. and a massive farm table to host dinner parties to taste the classic family recipes and try the new dishes. and a deep farm sink. 
• a cattle company to rent the hillsides when the months are warmer. bulls, calves, and lady cows roaming the property is something I cannot live without.
• time for creative activities, like writing and reading and dreaming up new gardens by the wood-burning stove.
• plots sectioned off across the property for gardens -- fruit, floral, and vegetable. and lots of bird feeders. and a wall of windows to watch the birds peck and flutter.
• time with mr. brooks to take summer walks down to the local ice cream dairy. or ride our bikes along the path parallel to to the train tracks. 
• the simple life, an opportunity to enjoy where I am, and how I arrived there. the chance to look back at my accomplishments and just sit back in the rocking chair on the front porch and snap peas.

my mom has the best life. she often refers to it as mundane but every time I'm home and get a peek into her world, I find it the most satisfying definition of simple. maybe that's the-country-mouse-living-in-the-city talking. regardless, it's pretty special. 

heath ceramics: at dinner sunday night--

after they returned from a couple weeks vacationing in bali, our chic neighbours invited us over for dinner sunday night. (finally! i'd longed for an invitation into their apartment for ages.) upon entering, the apartment smelled like fall -- a favourite season amongst the group, and one we all agreed was too short in the bay area. on the stovetop, simmering in a le creuset pot, was a mixture of sausage, butternut squash, and mushrooms. the aroma made my mouth water. looking about the apartment, my eyes moved to the table -- decorated and set with heath plates and bowls. my heart jumped out of jealousy and envy and then landed on swoon. everything was so beautiful, and i was suddenly very self-conscious. the flowery plate i presented my homemade almond tangelo cake on suddenly seemed overdressed. this was a table made gorgeous from simplicity. 

and then the most amazing thing happened. 

the large heath serving bowl in moonstone blue emerged from the refrigerator with this apple chicory brown butter dressed salad. i nearly gasped but contained my composure. barely.

when it came time to eat, i enjoyed dinner like an adult and refrained from spilling my accolades all over myself like a toddler gripping a fork for the first time with clumsy, fat fingers. i appropriately complimented the meal and graciously asked for seconds, and then offered to finish the salad if no one else planned to. 

it was then, during and after the evening, that i decided i needed to build out my cupboard of simple dishes. i'm all for the overdressed and over-designed and the fun that can add to the table. but there's true beauty in simplicity and i want to dip into that. i mean, look at the products of heath ceramics. incredible. the red carpet of simple dishware. 

maybe i'll have a cupboard of heath ceramics in my [someday] farmhouse. 

images courtesy of heathceramics.com

it would be easy, after seeing their amazing apartment, enjoying the incredible meal, and swooning over their kitchen and kitchen stuff, to walk back into our apartment and feel inferior. they're the kind of couple that has everything -- cool jobs, good looks, a rad apartment, and all the household tools and stuff that i want. AND they're nice. the nicest. but i walked through our apartment door, nodded at the gorgeous wreath, greeted suzy, and felt home. our apartment may be older and in need of upgrades, but it's home and it's where we belong together as a family. that's more important than anything else. 

lovely 186-square foot guest cottage.

i'm swooning over cottages these days. my soul is drawn to them with a deep desire to open the french doors, breathe in the fresh air, and watch suzy meander through the yard and flowers. swoon. what it would be like to spend a summer like that! 

images courtesy of remodelista.com

the french doors of this adorable cottage are from berkeley's very own ohmega salvage. i love that store!

i want a jersey cow for my birthday.

jersey cows are the prettiest. and i've wanted one for the longest time. their coats are the colour of warm caramel, soft and smooth to the touch. their eyelashes are long and glamourous. their eyes are big, beautiful, inquisitive, and gentle. they milk for clover milk and are happy cows grazing the lush green hillsides of the north bay. 

they're such a pretty creature. 

i've been leaving subtle hints like emails with pictures and the words "i want a jersey cow for my birthday" for my hubs for over a year now. i wonder when i'll get one... someday soon? 

images courtesy of coffee bar, via facebook

i long for my [someday] farm. of afternoons spent walking the hillsides along the paths carved by cow hooves. of mornings drenched in dew and dotted spiderwebs. of evenings catching fireflies. of collecting eggs in the afternoon during a break from ride-mowing the lawn. of weeding the garden and making dinner from our own harvest. of fresh air and big skies, rainbows and stormy clouds. of inspiration and creativity flying from my fingertips.

i'll never be a yogi.

i'm not good at practicing yoga regularly, even though i listed it as a new year resolution for 2014. the practice often intimidates me and i'm usually too lazy to leave for a class once i'm home from work. but you can practice at home! you might exclaim. yes, true. here are my excuses: my apartment feels too small with my mr., stepdaughter, and suzy roaming about. and for me to really benefit from yoga i need the cool hardwood floors and calm atmosphere of a dedicated yoga studio. i can't get those things at home. 

tonight, i've got the place to myself and, with the help of this yoga studio app, i'm going to do my darnedest to make yoga happen. and while flowing through moves, i'm going to pretend all my poses mirror this incredible yogi. 

i may never achieve yogi status but i can certainly appreciate the beauty and strength of the practice.

images courtesy of emersonfry.com/daily

i wonder if wearing emerson fry's cerulean caftan would turn my poses more majestic.

maybe someday i'll have a space i can dedicate to strengthening my yoga practice. a quiet place of my own with a cool, hardwood floor and a door that i can lock in and protect a serene atmosphere.

---

update: i completed two 30-minute yoga sets from the yoga studio app. it was wonderful. the female instructor's voice is calm and pleasant; the pace was comfortable. i consider myself a beginner so many of my poses were basic but they still pushed me. when i got home, i changed into looser clothing, closed the blinds, put a full towel out on the rug, and settled in. 

i don't think i'll be going to a studio ever again with such an enjoyable experience from the yoga studio app. 

do i have the fever--the baby fever?

they just had a baby. a truly beautiful little girl--gwyneth adler [last name]. and i got to hold her for a brief time a mere week after her birth. she was the newest baby i'd ever held and, truth be told, i wanted one. i wanted a little baby of my own to swoon over, to investigate, to observe her (or his) every move. i wanted a newborn to sleep beside, to snuggle with, to gently bounce while walking laps through the apartment, calming her (or his) restless spirit. i wanted a teeny tiny human to smell, to cuddle, to bathe, to get up in the night for, to stay up with, to sit silently with. i want to tell her (or him) stories, read books, write every accomplishment in her (or his) journal, like my parents did for me, and feed her (or him) with sweet kisses. 

that same day, we met up with some friends for breakfast (turned into brunch after waiting for a table) at mama's royal cafe and i couldn't stop staring--or maybe i was lusting--after their 14-month old little girl, riley. she's a chunk of spirit--lots of smiles, playful, and snugg-able. oh, i wanted one of her, too. i wanted to take this little girl for walks and stop and smell every flower; let her dress herself and encourage her creativity--applauding when she exits her room in a purple tutu, a graphic tee, striped leggings, and a punchy headband, her toes painted pink from our last girls night. 

the next day at church, i held a friend's 4-month old little boy, lucas. he was a hefty bugger but that didn't stop him from snuggling heavily into my shoulder during meetings. he had a good amount of drool and sucked on my hands when he wasn't staring above at the ceiling light fixtures. at one point, he fell asleep on my chest and my heart melted. he was heavenly. i'm surrounded by babies and tiny humans at church. sometimes, when our glances align, we play games, like peek-a-boo, or i'll make silly faces in their direction, watching their mothers hush their miniature giggles. 

a few weeks back i went northeast to visit my family in moses lake. i had a new niece to meet--clara kristin [last name]. i held this little one and felt a great sense of peace. it came to mind, while holding the sweet 4-week old, that nothing else mattered. i was doing precisely what i should be doing at this exact moment: holding this precious, pure, and new human. i figured holding a newborn could solve every problem the world has. why? because wee things put a pause on life. they require much attention, and usually it must be undivided attention. they feel good cradled in your arms and all you want to do is protect this tiny being and tell her (or him) about the wonderful life that's ahead. you want to read her (or him) every story and kiss her (or him) nonstop. you want to rest her (or his) head in the crook of your arm, even after it goes stiff and you develop a crick in your back. you don't care. because at this very moment, you are still. you are holding something that is relying on you 100%. and because you don't ever want her (or him) to not snuggle with you. 

babies. oh sweet babies. they smell nice. they feel nice. they love you. they look at you inquisitively, straight into your soul. they need you. they depend on you. they'll sit still with you. i want one. 

picture my own--me holding my niece, clara

right now, my fears of motherhood and that life change are in the far distance. but i'm not foolish enough to think they're not still there, lurking. it'll take more than holding a few babies to feel ready for motherhood.

still hanging onto the dream: when do i get my writing desk stationed in front of the window looking down to the barn?

i share this prize[d] speech not because i'm an ernest hemingway fan--i've read little of his work; i find it tedious and particularly dull; perhaps later in life i'll become a reading fan; even still, although i don't read his writings i can appreciate his greatness and the strides he made in american literature--but because of two very agreeable things he said:

Having no facility for speech-making and no command of oratory nor any domination of rhetoric, I wish to thank the administrators of the generosity of Alfred Nobel for this Prize.

No writer who knows the great writers who did not receive the Prize can accept it other than with humility. There is no need to list these writers. Everyone here may make his own list according to his knowledge and his conscience.

It would be impossible for me to ask the Ambassador of my country to read a speech in which a writer said all of the things which are in his heart. Things may not be immediately discernible in what a man writes, and in this sometimes he is fortunate; but eventually they are quite clear and by these and the degree of alchemy that he possesses he will endure or be forgotten.

Writing, at its best, is a lonely life. Organizations for writers palliate the writer’s loneliness but I doubt if they improve his writing. He grows in public stature as he sheds his loneliness and often his work deteriorates. For he does his work alone and if he is a good enough writer he must face eternity, or the lack of it, each day.

For a true writer each book should be a new beginning where he tries again for something that is beyond attainment. He should always try for something that has never been done or that others have tried and failed. Then sometimes, with great luck, he will succeed.

How simple the writing of literature would be if it were only necessary to write in another way what has been well written. It is because we have had such great writers in the past that a writer is driven far out past where he can go, out to where no one can help him.

I have spoken too long for a writer. A writer should write what he has to say and not speak it. Again I thank you.

image courtesy of google images

a friend recently asked me if i'd given any thought to my ideal company i'd like to copy edit for. my answer of freelancing from my [someday] old farmhouse surprised her. i'm hanging onto that dream with every bit of strength i can muster. 

someday.
someday.

the desk is stationed in front of a large window that looks down to our barn--chickens are pecking at the ground for any morsel they can find and the goats are wandering aimlessly about. the desk sits on a pocked wood-planked floor carpeted in space rugs. suzy is wrapping her body around the legs of my chair and my big fluffy dog--type and name to be determined--is sleeping at my feet. 

this is life. 

--
the same friend serves as a mentor for my writing/copy editing venture and is a woman i greatly admire. she described my writing "full of sensory, so emotional and real."

is motherhood the next step?

photo my own; my suzy and mr.

for as long as i can remember, i yearned to be married and have a family of my own. i'd play m.a.s.h. with my friends, writing out and listing option after option, from number of kids to the colour of my wedding dress. coming from a large family, i figured i'd have a similar arrangement--i'd marry early and start pumping out kids; 4 always sounded like the right number. i'd have a dog, a yard, a big white house with dark gray decorative shutters, a husband with a normal 9.00a-5.00p job in our small midwest town, and be on a first-name basis with the local ice cream parlour. 

that's not my life. 

i live in a cozy san francisco 1-bedroom apartment (nothing like a house in the midwest) with my husband of 4.5 months and cat, suzy. c, mr.'s daughter from a previous life, is with us part-time. she has the bedroom and we turned the front room into a studio apartment--bed, sofa, tv, clothes' cabinet. even though it's working out very well, my heart aches for the green, rolling hills of the north country--more often than i like to admit. (i've dreamed up a whole new family life and it involves land, some chickens, a few goats, and a jersey cow.) 

i don't have a dog. i have a cat. suzy. she's amazing and i adore her. before you think i'm some crazy cat lover, i'm not. we're not cat people. we're suzy people. she's hilarious and fluffy and playful and frisky. i'll often come into the living room and she'll be squatting in the line of the sofa where the back and seat meet, ready and eager to play. when i'm in the kitchen, i'll call to her and she'll tear down the hallway and check her treats bowl for a surprise. she's a joy. 

i didn't marry early. not early like i expected. my goal age was twenty-five. i missed the mark by 9 years. and i'm glad. the timing was spot on, in every regard. someone else clearly had a better plan for me than any of the plans i set my heart on for myself.

so what's next? i'm married now and acquired a part-time daughter in the process. is it time to start our own family? (honestly, having a part-time daughter has stalled my rush for children of our own.) a bit of me feels like the clock is ticking for us to start a family, have children of our own making, because of my age. i'll be in my mid- to late-thirties by the time it happens (if it happens). will that be too late? i know other women have had children in their forties but i feel behind already. 

---

here i am, a married mid-thirties-something, writing this on a saturday night in, while my mr. and his daughter are doing other things, and suzy is cozied up beside me, the distractions of motherhood weighing heavy on my mind like they have for months. lately, it's as if the gate damming all the wonders and curiosities was unlocked, unleashing a fury of self-doubt because now i'm married. before, motherhood was a futuristic and theoretical notion; now it could be real and, truth be told, it terrifies me. i wonder if i'll be a good mom, if i have what it takes to put aside my selfish desires and pour my heart and soul into a child and family. if i am strong enough to put my body through the rigor of pregnancy. will i be a worrywart or over-protective mother?


i love my life. i love being a newlywed. am i ready to give it up to be a mom? am i being selfish? how will i know when i'm ready? 

daydreaming about pretty home furnishings--

i still get caught up dreaming of outfitting my [someday] farmhouse from anthropologie's house & home furnishings. i love the assumed clash of rustic and industrial and fancy and homey pieces thrown in a room together. that kind of mishmash excites me and sends my heart and soul into a flurrying tizzy; much more than a house that looks like it fell off the pages of potterybarn or an interior designer's portfolio. 

these are some of my favourites for lighting and textiles for the living areas. oh, and that desk. that's not a textile or light fixture. it's simply magnificent and that's enough. 

images courtesy of anthropologie.com

giant anglepoise floor lamp, $ 4,298.00  /  jardin des plantes curtain, $68.00-98.00  /  whorled trapunto rug, round, $498.00-998.00  /  doily rug, $20.00-798.00  /  retractable writing desk, $1,298.00  /  hand-tufted parni rug, $9.95-1,199.95  /  golden sap pendant, $248.00  /  rhys chair, $2,498.00  /  volta desk lamp, $98.00  /  orianna sofa, $1,998.00  /  half gold light bulb, $6.00  /  kaare leather sofa, $2,499.95  /  novara floor lamp, $398.00  /  honeybee bloom curtains, $128.00-188.00  /  archway floor lamp, $498.00  /  verdeante chandelier, $1,499.95-2,499.95

if this loft space was mine--

image courtesy of witanddelight.tumblr.com

i would fill it with buckets of flowers.

i'd start a flower or paper shop.

i'd host a large sunday dinner.

i'd decorate it with a grab bag of furniture.

i'd host an ice cream sundae festival.

i'd set up a writing desk and type away all the tales trapped in my imagination.

i'd sit on the floor with a steaming cup of milk, suzy curled up beside me, and wait for the rain.

i'd zip on my wedding dress, put my mr. in his jacket, and have photos snapped.

i'd build a princess fort and have a sleepover with my nieces.

i'd fill it with balloons for a special birthday surprise.

i'd host a clothing exchange and fashion show.

i'd cover it, wall to wall, in my favourite photos from our wedding day.

i'd turn on my favourite tunes, dance dance dance and rock out.

i'd project our favourite movies and eat popcorn.

i would pinch myself.

the greatest photo of audrey hepburn ever.

image courtesy of thisisglamorous.com

as photographed by irving penn. an american photographer that emphasized beauty rather than fashion. and she had all the beauty any woman could ever want and couldn't buy. mr. penn was even able to capture the beauty of her soul in this stunning photo. you can just see it--her charm, her inner beauty, her kindness, how she found fun in everyday life. truly spectacular. well done.

a good photograph is one that communicates a fact, touches the heart, and leaves the viewer a changed person for having seen it; it is in one word, effective. irving penn

other intensely beautiful and fashionable irving penn photos. intense in their simplicity and lack of colour. how is it that grayscale photos are so remarkable? i mean, that netted face photo blows my mind. 

images courtesy of thisisglamorous.com

i love the fashion art of that era. over-dramatized waistlines, accessories, necklines, makeup, and everything else. i want a giant print of each photograph and hang them in my [someday] farmhouse. 

sheep.

sheep. i love 'em and i want some. a whole flock. i wanna let them get fat and woolly and then shear their wool in the spring and sell it. i want lambs too so i can hold them and feed them their milk and coo and kiss their faces.

goodness they're cute. and funny in their faces and bumbling bodies.

images courtesy of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7--images 5 and 7 source unknown; think they're from tkow

don't you think they'd look great adorned with jingle bell collars at christmastime? 

i want this house, please--

this house is perfect and i want it. i want to fill it with sunday dinners and dogs and family and nieces and nephews running around and friends and comfortable chairs and plush rugs. and i want those two bedrooms in the house and those dining room chairs. hallways filled with afternoon shadows, wooden floors and arched through-ways. if i make this, will you come over? 

images courtesy of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

seriously, that house is just dreamy.

a change in life direction (and a promise to post wedding photos)--

one of my favourite pre-wedding moments was meeting my florist, jane guerin. she is a charming, southern gem exploding with floral vision.

on a rainy afternoon, after sending my hubs-to-be out for a coffee break, i stood in jane's adorable shop in fredericksburg, virginia, surrounded by bins of flowers. she walked me back and forth, excitedly, her little fresh and fragrant workspace pointing out the stems that would be part of my wedding bouquet and noting special features she adored about the blossom.

being in her shop, feeling her enthusiasm, hearing her exclaim about our mutual inspiration, saipua, was thrilling and inspiring. i later told her, on my wedding day when she dropped off my flowers at the richard johnston inn, that i wanted to move in and apprentice under her with the intent to manage her shop when she retired. she loved the idea. a flower shop of my own? swoon. maybe someday. (i even have work and project ideas for my hubs. fredericksburg: small, cozy town; lots of opportunity for young, creative couples.)

my wedding bouquet in jane's shop; image courtesy of jane guerin

p.s. i'll post some sneak peek photos of my wedding day and gush the swoony details tomorrow for wedding wednesday. in a word, the day was truly magical and i wouldn't change a thing.

blessings and longings that still ring true today.

i first drafted this line on november 11, 2012. it rings even more true today then it did then.

sometimes the sheer magnitude of how blessed i am hits me and crumbles my heart in the best way. 

and while it's hard to admit wanting more when life has already provided so abundantly, i still find myself longing today for the same list below, initially written on january 3, 2013.

a bedroom i never want to leave.

a kitchen full of warmth and where people want to be.

a living room comfortable enough to spend hours chatting and catching up.

a fireplace in the living room to keep us warm.

a mudroom dirty with paw prints and mud-caked knee-high boots.

 images courtesy of 1, 2, 3

my dress: inspired by--

wedding wednesday
volume 4  |  chapter 13

am i the only bride-to-be drowning in the ocean of silk and tulle and beaded wedding dresses? for a time, i even floundered with and lost my personal style as i filtered through page after page of gowns trying to find the one. i can't possibly be the only bride-to-be that's felt this way, can i?

after an encouraging back-to-reality chat with my girlfriend, ayl, i righted myself, took a deep breathe, and decided to stick with my initial plan--have the dreamy dress i sketched out in my head made. this will be unique to me, one-of-a-kind, all mine, inspired by the beauties below, a lacy timeless wonder. after securing a local and recommended dressmaker (again, my friend, ayl, to the rescue!), i can't wait to sit down and start the sewing action. it'll be like my own episode of project runway.

images courtesy of 1-4, 5-8

my wedding day will be unique to me and my man; i want my dress to match. i want it created for just that occasion. for just me. for just us. for me to swoon over and for my man to see me with refreshed eyes. it will pair nicely with our day in its simple and classic shape and free from unnecessary adornments.

rooms for inspiration--[someday].

they all have aspects that appeal to different tastes of mine. sometimes i want a luxurious room with a lush magenta couch to fall into and colour to keep the room alive. other times i prefer a room of clean lines and basic shapes with black leather modern furniture and pendant light fixtures. and even from time to time, i lean toward a white fluffy bedroom inspired by a beach house because it feels breezy and light. most of the time, i want white walls and interesting light fixtures and a room large enough to have some fun with.

images courtesy of 1, 2-4, 5

if i'm gonna call it home, it's gotta be a reflection of me from corner to corner, floor to ceiling. it can't be promised to look like a museum or ready for a magazine photo-op. it must be permitted to be messy and littered with colouring books and crayons, a pet or two, tumblers, a vase of wilted flowers, and shoes. it must be inviting by its appearance of being lived in.