Every time I plan a “luxurious” day-off breakfast for myself, the day of I abandon the notion entirely and prep some old reliable staple: a bowl of yogurt, warmed oatmeal, a frothy smoothie or a crisp peanut butter-slathered toast, as opposed to the stack of pancakes or maple-ribboned french toast I envision. I guess that points to my overall simplistic mindset, my fixation with routine, familiarity – a crutch sometimes but a comfort most. Occasionally, I gently lean against normality. I twist the juice out of the rinds until something a bit more imaginative comes up. Cue this, a bite of tangy citrus grated and squeezed into a normal day-to-day oat bowl. “Luxurious” enough. Certainly fulfilling enough. Continue reading “oats with mandarin, yogurt, blueberries & dark chocolate”
Stagnancy burns my soul. My bones and muscles physically hurt when I’ve sat/lied too long in bed or elsewhere. I’ve noted that the aches of stillness versus of movement feel so different. The former manifests as an itch, twitching restless leg syndrome, internal bouncing. The latter is deeper, satisfactory. DOMS which raises endorphins and cravings for more miles. Broaden these feelings to my unquenchable desire to explore, local or a little less local, Tampa or Orlando, a cruise across I-4 or a north-or-south set of turns down exits. Just get me in a driver’s seat, and I’m happier.
Here in Denver none of my footfalls ended in me shattering my tailbone. I think residing in Sweden for six months, much of it in the brunt of winter, prepared me for snowy sidewalks and hidden clumps of ice and the stray zephyr to find some flaw in my bundled attire. I expected Denver’s 10-30 degree days to bite, but I expected deeper toothmarks. My extremities were likely the worst off. My socks ripped on day one, and I used them later not to protect my toes but to scrub scarlet hair dye off a pillowcase. Continue reading “city guide | denver, co.”
“A run into 2017” is probably a more appropriate title, considering my preferred method of mobility this morning. Happy New Year to all, old readers and new, casual virtual passersby and lovely familiars. We made it to a new string of 365. I’m glad to be here. January hangs at my elbows and as I write a coffee keeps me company in a local Starbucks (yes, between craft shops I also frequent a couple of my favorite locations of this ubiquitous chain). A slow bustle hums into my ears: a thump of instrumentals, a barista calling a name, an older gentleman licking his finger & flipping the ear of a newspaper corner. Tranquil. Continue reading “a walk into 2017”
My grapple with anxiety disorder is no secret if you’ve followed my adventures here or on Instagram. One characteristic of the affliction, I’ve noted, is a tendency to frantically grab around for external order when the neurotic internal world is sparking and flashing like holiday fireworks accidentally lit five minutes too early. It’s a methodical way of ignoring the disorder, and one to which those with high-functioning anxiety – myself included – turn. Meet the bullet journal, my non-medicinal whirlwind-muffler. Continue reading “organizing for anxiety: 10 essential tips for bullet journaling”
With January arrived and 2016 permeating the dates on my agenda, inevitably the word “resolution” burrows into my thoughts. January. A reset of the timepiece. A fresh set of 365 boxes pinned to the wall. I truthfully don’t make resolutions, but I do honestly consider what I want improved in my life. Generally these habits last a week or two, as is customary for most of humanity, it seems – congratulations to all of you who barely slip up, but my determination shoes have a very flawed tread. Next thing I know my ass is bruised and I’m wondering where in the road I lost my balance. Continue reading “christmas in photos + 2016 resolve”