There was a time when I joined a scooter gang. Three members total. We would dress colorfully and patrol the streets of my hometown after the sun had gone down and the restaurants closed for the night. Manual means of transportation only; nothing with electricity or motors. I wore a cookie monster backpack. We would ride our way to the gas station to buy a honey flavored Phillies. Outside we sat on the curb and passed around the cigar. After one puff realized we didn’t particularly enjoy the taste of honey, or the taste of cigar. Streets were rated and categorized by their smoothness and difficulty. Life still seemed effortless; seemed neat and filled with possibilities. I felt invincible.
There was a time I started a “professional” jump rope crew.
There was a time I joined a pyramid scheme.
Life still has time for me; still has time for possibilities.
*** Painted flower pot made using this technique. Made with ceramic pot, masking tape, and acrylic paint. ***
n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you will never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.
Sometimes I “people watch” when I’m waiting. In lines at the supermarket or inside the plastic cages built at bus stops. I imagine their life in flashes. A memory of a college party, an explosive breakup, the birth of their daughter, sledding down a slope on a picnic table, and the resulted pain of broken bones. I like to imagine their sorrows and their happiness. Their ups and downs.
It exercises my empathy and broadens my perspective. It reminds me that we are all carrying the weight of the world; the baggage of our past. The world I live in is woven by my unique experiences. Every world is different. Every world is important.
Yummy Pumpkin Ice Cream with Ginger Cookies. Purely delicious.
A few years ago I received an ice cream maker as a gift for my birthday. Just a small, simple one you would find at any department store. I had never shown interest in manual ice cream but vowed to give it a try. I wasn’t going to let this piece of machinery join my cake pop machine and waffle iron in the cobwebs of the cupboard. Oh, my sweet, hungry taste buds was it worth it. Fantasmic. So I continued experiment, asking for suggestions from friends, and researching recipes. It quickly became a frequent party treat, something to show off with. I’ve made everything from simple vanilla, to rich Dulce de Leche with toffee chunks, and even dared to create a batch of sultry tart grapefruit ice cream. The quickly changing Fall season ignited a desire for pumpkin ice cream. It pairs perfectly with these ginger cookies I crave around the winter holiday season. I would recommend making both or even adding crumbled cookies into the ice cream maker when it is almost done churning.
Seems like lists are all the hype these days. Sites like Buzzfeed and Cracked are notorious for serving a list driven audience. They thrive in it. I thought I’d latch on to the rear end of their bandwagon and create a list of my own.
Ten of the Things I Enjoy
Nighttime snacks. Specifically the ones involving cheese. If we’re aiming for the ultimate specificity, something with both cheese and crunch.
The hidden track on Jagged Little Pill.
Things shaped like fire hydrants and wooden replicas of exotic animals. I’m not sure why I lumped these together. Think of it as a bonus.
The first colon clearing sip of coffee in the morning.
Finding money in an old birthday card or coat pocket. Finding money.
Binging sci-fi TV shows and preparing the essential skill sets I will need as a future space pirate.