ivory tower

the smith tower used to be the tallest building west of the mississippi...

and every day from our playground (which is very fancily situated on the roof) i get to look at it. it's always been one of my favorite buildings in seattle, and i love it more every day. it's no longer the tallest; in fact, it's practically dwarfed by the sky scrapers that now make up our skyline.

but it's beautiful, and the closer you get, the more tiny and intricate details you can find on its structure. it's one of my favorite things about old architecture: the idea that something you can only see when you're close-up (even the smallest egg-and-dart) is just as important as the silhouette the building leaves in the sky.

not to mention, it holds for me a plethora of irreplaceable memories: in the third grade, we went there on a field trip. i felt like the princess i was meant to be when i got to sit in the wishing chair (yes, there is such a thing as a wishing chair!) in the chinese room. all of the beautiful and ornate furniture in the room was a gift from the empress of china (yes, there is such a thing as an empress!), and there's some legend about sitting in the wishing chair and getting married... but it seemed to take a little longer for me. either way, it reminded me of old hollywood. there is something about an unbridled display of opulence that never ceases to intoxicate me.

and then there was the day that jacob and i invented "bananniversary," a celebration six months between your anniversaries, so that you can squeeze in yet another opportunity for love and presents. we went as high as they'd let us in the smith tower, and the elevators are old and golden and have latticed doors, so that you can see every single floor as you go up. sometimes you see offices, sometimes you see vacant rooms that look like they ought to have "private detective" signs hung on their entries, sometimes you see the tiny white tiled floors. later, searching for the bathroom, we found ourselves in an austere stairwell that clearly wasn't meant for us, heard footsteps down the hall, and took the opportunity to steal a quick kiss before we booked it out of there like scared teenagers.

and then there's the fact that the smith tower even gets in the holiday mood. at the very top, it has a beautiful light that glows blue as soon as the sun goes down (sometimes if i'm at work late enough or if it gets dark early enough i get to see it close up), except in december, when they change it to green.

such a lovely thought. it's all in the details.

love,
j

ps. when double checking to make sure that it really was the tallest building west of the mississippi, not just a legend of my mother's, i also learned this: since its construction in 1914, it has only had to be washed once because it just stays incredibly clean. magnificent.

imperfection is beauty

when i was a little kid, and by little kid i mean huge dork, i used to say that i wanted to be a "quote master" when i grew up. meaning a person who memorized anthologies of significant quotes; who not only could recite relevant passages at any given moment that could inspire the necessary feeling and understanding of joy, love, grief, cynicism; but who could then name the author, the year, the setting...

it was really tragic when i learned that such a job does not really exist, and if it does, it probably doesn't pay my rent.

but today i was talking with one of the lovely people in my life who was in a quandary about love, and how not to screw up it up, and, being as i am blessed with a really excellent person who puts up with some really atrocious shit from me, i was actually able to give decent advice.

and while i didn't say it out loud, i had a flashback to my notorious quote master days, and remembered the words of one of my childhood heroes (who i can only assume had different career aspirations as a child herself), norma jean baker:

"i'm selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. i make mistakes, i am out of control and at times hard to handle. but if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best."

is it dorky if it's a marilyn monroe quote?

love,

j

linky lou

i didn't really have to think much at all for today's beautiful thing.

midway through an extra challenging afternoon, i got this text from my (future) ma-in-law:

"oMG... I forgot to tell you today how so very much I love you.. So now I did"

and if having in-laws that you love, and that love you right back, isn't a beautiful thing, i don't know what is.

(i love you too, ma).

love,

j

renewal (and a puppy)

in the last eight months, i've done about thirty-five million things: almost finished planning a wedding, gotten a puppy, switched jobs, trained for a half-marathon, begun dreaming of my own small business, almost bought a house, then decided not to buy a house, rearranged my furniture, prepared the best salad of my life... none of which involve writing in this blog. when i first began here, it was to be an exercise in so many areas: self-awareness, voice, and most importantly, gratitude. when i look at past posts, they make undeniably happy because they convey some of the most lovely and occasionally unexpected pieces of my life. and my conviction that acknowledging the beautiful things is one of the most important and overlooked tasks we might undertake only grows stronger by the minute.

which is why, today, i'm renewing my effort to write here (a little bit) every day; to present at least one gorgeous, subtle, outlandish, heartbreaking, intimate, gracious, thoughtful, moving, or joyous beautiful thing simply as a part of my daily regimen. like brushing my teeth, or reminding my students of the word "please," remembering how much love and prettiness there is in the world should always be in the foreground, particularly as we are reminded more and more of the dark and dirty and hard.

with that, here's a really cute puppy (mine). his name is louis harsant cafferty. we get asked a lot if he's named after louis armstrong. louis armstrong is pretty great, so i usually say yes, and sometimes i tell people it's a little bit after louis prima, or the song "louis, louis," but in reality, the night we drove him home, we decided to name him after louis c.k. and so it is that in our minds our dog has developed a decidedly adult sensibility when it comes to humor and language:



love,
j