Archive for the ‘love’ Category

dot dot dot

June 2, 2010

Dottie. Oh, how I love thee.

Ginger beer. A surprising summer elixir.

The boyfriend. Only tells me he’s not a fan of heights after he put the 15 ft. extension ladder ON TOP of my dining room table.


on raised beds & butlers & why I don’t feel like a badass

May 19, 2010

A large part of why I picked the plot of land I picked to plunk down ‘roots’ was because of the fine, fine, river bottom soil.  I have some not-so-secret dreams of growing lots and lots of vegetables and even more flowers.  Currently I only have three peonies producing no blooms (not even buds, my friends!) and two tomato plants that I now have to just yank up from the ground and give them a proper burial in the compost heap.  Last evening I discovered that the excessive amounts of rainfall finally did my little guys in. There is a slight slope to my site and they have been swimming in puddles of rain water.  On the drive back to my boyfriend’s farmhouse I got real quiet and sulky. The reason: my sad tomato plants. I’ve gardened for many years, now. Mainly guerilla gardening in small little swathes here and there where I would squish in as much as the space could possibly handle. Why now, with this dreamy soil and oodles of (for me) space, can I not get even a simple heirloom tomato to stay put and throw out some roots? I tried to snuff out my tears as my boyfriend and I walked up to his door. Right beside the screened-in porch sits a striking tomato plant as fat and vibrant as a two year old toddler. Even though I planted him and have been giving him lots of love I was resentful that this healthy specimen was at the ‘country’ house and not the ‘city’ house. And that there was only one plant and not rows and rows of them. As I climbed the 100 + year stairway to the bathroom with my ‘overnight’ bag I got sulkier. My boyfriend and I say ‘country’ house and ‘city’ house in an effort to make living between our two respective houses seem exciting and fun. Not stressful and rushed.  I sulked because the idea of two houses seems romantic and decadent.  Very Gwenyth Paltrow and Madonna (who can afford two sets of hair products and makeup so as to make the overnight bag obsolete). The truth is, though, that there are two houses that need laundry folded, dishes washed, and floors swept. And a dog and a cat who are equal members of our family, but reside one each in the ‘country’ house and the ‘city’ house. And they both need and want lots of snuggles and playtime. So what did I do? I went to bed reading an article on raised garden beds and then dreamt about butlers in tuxedos.

she had sparkles on her ear

May 14, 2010

Today the sun peeked out for a moment. Just a moment. It’s been raining and storming a lot in true Kansas fashion. All big and beautiful and a little wild. I was driving home from work on Monday during one of the storms when my boyfriend called me to make sure I was okay. I had trouble talking because the persistent and vengeful lightning seemed to be aiming directly at my gold tooth (cap, really, but a gold tooth sounds more dramatic) and my head felt full and swimmy.  Does your body freak out during electrical storms?

Lately, I’ve been  kind of sweating about my age. Feeling time ticking loudly. Then I remembered seeing this lady and thought that there’s plenty of time and ways to be a badass. Let’s make a pledge, friends. Everyone do one thing this weekend that makes them feel good and tell me what it is. I’ll do the same. Cheers!

shave 2 save

May 10, 2010

Sorry I’ve been absent. Goofing around, I suppose. But I’ll tell you who hasn’t been goofing around. That man right up there. Raising money for a great cause.

I’m a proud lady.

listen up!

April 9, 2010

Here is something that I learned this week: Sound is touch. I think we all know this, but don’t often pause to think on it or really absorb that notion. Sound is touch. Now I’m going to teach you something: When you find yourself being kind of rotten to the person you love I suggest you lay your phone down on the windowsill, open up the window wide, and zip your lip and ALLOW the hoot of a great horned owl and the chirps of the first spring frogs to come drifting into the mouthpiece and float across wires and space and land gently into the ear of the person you love. Maybe then they will forgive you for being a shit.  Because they will have felt your hand on their heart.

spring snow & 40 years

April 1, 2010

This snowy shot (very Robert Frost) was taken on the FIRST DAY OF SPRING from my back porch. Way to be lame, Spring!

And this photo was taken at my friend Tina’s surprise birthday party. I’m sad to say that we must have spent an hour in front of that mirror trying to take cool, experiment-y shots. Our hats (as well as all the hats at the party) were made out of white felt, on a whim, by our friend Kylie. Happy Birthday, Tina!


March 24, 2010

It’s not like I’m bursting at the seams for the next Julia Roberts blockbuster. I’m just ready to see this story on film. I read the book and it took me where I needed to go really fast and really effectively. You can’t say that about all reads, now can you?

niece love

February 23, 2010

My niece is the sweetest thing EVER! She could very easily give the card company that I work for a run for its money!

O, muse!

January 29, 2010

Happy Birthday, Kansas! What a sweet, sweet place you’ve been to me. I’m sorry for all the times I not-so-secretly cursed at you for that which I thought you lacked. Truly, you are a dynamic state and one which provokes such strong feelings from many.

born identity

January 27, 2010

You know, I’ve realized, and not just recently, that this blog has no feet. No clear identity. I guess, if I think on it, it’s a little bit like myself.  There are such beautiful blogs out there on food, trends, style, design, fashion, wine, photography . . . it’s overwhelming, at times. But I’m glad they exist and I’m kind of glad that mine still exists, too. Thanks for putting up with the randomness of Prairynation.

So, about the photo above? It provokes an intense desire to read an old-fashioned newspaper. Lazily. And with someone I love who is cool with reading the paper at the breakfast table and not being offended if we each take a different section and skip the chatter for a spell. Until we’re just too wound up about a story and MUST SHARE. And Burberry plaid. Or, maybe it provokes in me a desire to retire, say, tomorrow, so that I can actually find time to sit down lazily with my beloved and read an old-fashioned paper and not be focused on getting to the grocery store and mopping up all the salt off my floors from our overly salted city streets and doing laundry and somehow discovering and nuturing an as-of-yet hidden talent. Whew.