When You Are Engulfed in Books

There's a stack of books on my bedside table nearly one foot high. When I look at them, my heart quickens a little. It's been a long time... a long, long time since I tackled a stack of books like that. Two or three books would be a worthy starting point, but I decided to start big.

Three weeks ago, I finished reading my first book since the middle of October. Prior to that, I hadn’t finished a book in over a year.

One. Year. No books.

I can’t explain it. All I can say is that there have been other things on my mind. Even when I did finish a book in the last three years, they were few and far between. Compare that with this time four years ago, when I actually read a whopping 11 books in the month of January alone. There were even reviews that I wrote and posted like an organized, responsible writer! I was on top of my literary growth senior year of college, and then things went downhill. I’ll chock it up to my post-grad aimlessness and “near poverty” status. I just couldn't find the interest or energy to finish anything I started.

And that goes beyond books. 

From Kaitlin

So while finishing something has proved difficult, starting a book is a regular occurrence for me; I feel like I’m always beginning a new one. (Probably because I'm always buying a new one. Chronic Book Buying = actual sickness.) The feeling of diving into a brand new story is unrivaled for me. In a way, it's like starting a new diet: Things go so well at the beginning, and it feels wonderful to be motivated. It's great to feel like I'm doing something healthy for myself. But then something happens that derails me, and there are some days or weeks where I just don't eat healthy anymore. And the longer I stay away from those smart choices, the harder it is to pick it up again.

The Girl Who Played With Fire

Now, though, I am engulfed in books. I have friends who are constantly reading, and it inspires me. I feel good when I read, and I like feeling good. I like learning new things. I like feeling challenged.

And with a dad like mine, with his breadth of literary knowledge and library of enlightening classics and non-fiction masterpieces, I don't have an excuse.

My father's book with Doris Kearns Goodwin's autograph. A gift from my mother.

This is my promise to take advantage of every opportunity to let myself be engulfed, enraptured, and entranced by new stories and histories. I promise to spend less time watching "House Hunters International" and "Property Brothers" and "Diners, Drive-ins & Dives" and instead loose myself in Krakauer or Ishiguro or Larsson.

Variety is key.

Been sitting on my bedside table for far too long.

I think of books the way I think of movies: there are so few atrocious and unbearable ones—relative to the number of enjoyable ones, that is. And even when they are atrocious, they can still be fun and worth the read. There is no "right way" to write a story, which is why I love to read a little bit of everything. Biography, teen fiction, modern award winners, memoirs, classics, trashy romance... It keeps me on my toes. Life is too short to stick to one genre or style of writing, and I'm simply not smart enough to stick exclusively with Dickens, though I'm sure my dad would suggest I try my damnedest. 

Are any of you chronic book buyers like I am? Do you read books often and easily, or do you feel like you're always flaking on your own promise to read more? Oh, and because I think recommendations can't be beat...

What books top your list of favorites? Which ones are "must reads" for fun / enlightenment / knowledge / romance / whatever else you find awesome?

Simply put: I can't get enough right now. Help a girl out. I have an addiction to feed.


* Images property of People Just Float

When a Baby Meets the Sea

I'm in love with a baby. Really. He's not even mine, but I love him so much I could just smoosh his face all day forever. It's like when I see how cute my dogs and cat are -- but friends, he is not a dog or cat, he is a baby. A human baby with human tendencies and a brain that learns things and a mouth that says words in English and two legs that work [almost] just like mine do to get from one place to another.

I'm in awe of my nephew, Henry, like he's the first baby I have ever seen. I look at him and I'm amazed. Even after a year, I am amazed that he is a person who breathes and laughs and moves and thinks.

I am amazed that he is the creation of the love my two best friends share. They're in him -- his fingers, his ears, his squinty grin. When I'm with them, I admit, I will just sit and stare and can't believe he was grown in my friend Cassie's belly. Like a vegetable, only not. But kind of.

It's weird.

Sometimes I laugh at the level of awe I feel, as though I've just found out babies aren't delivered by storks.

In all honesty, this amazement with life stops me in my tracks quite often. Life is amazing; it is incredible that we are here, and even more incredible that we can communicate with one another the way we do, and feel what we feel -- good and bad; that we can live in peace with animals, who are also miraculously here, astounds me even still. That we eat food, which also grows or lives and comes from nothing, but now nourishes us.

To quote Louis C.K.: "I'm still amazed at the shit in my life."

So many people my age have babies now (thanks to Facebook, it's easy to keep track). I knew babies growing up. I was a baby at some point forever ago. But with Henry, it's different. He's the first of his kind:

Babies that actually mean something to me.

I've spent very little time with babies -- or kids, even. Growing up, my friends would always babysit, and were easy-going around babies; it was 2nd nature to them, and they were naturals by the time they reached adulthood. But me? I'm pretty sure I didn't change a diaper until I was in my early-20's, and even then, I was scared to death. And grossed out.

Babies were not my jam.

But Henry and his growth is a learning experience for me, and I don't take the opportunity lightly. His milestones excite me, his joys make me squeal, and his cries challenge me.



So when I was invited to join Matt and Cassie in Half Moon Bay at Poplar Beach for Henry's first visit with the ocean, I couldn't pass it up.

And something strange happened.

It was as though I was seeing the ocean for the first time, too. Watching a young child look at the ocean and feel sand/salt water against his feet without really understanding what it all means, where it all comes from made me think...



... just how grateful I really am. Oh, how long I've taken the ocean for granted! It has been my neighbor for my entire life and seeing the wonder/confusion/excitement in Henry's eyes reminded me that it truly is spectacular.

Can I ever really appreciate it, though, being as used to it as I am?

It reminds me of a line from one of my favorite movies, The Legend of 1900. The main character, 1900, grew up on a ship and has never stepped foot on land; the ocean is his home. He sees thousands of people a year stand in awe of and communicating with the ocean, yet he cannot.

"It's like a big scream, telling you that life is immense. Once you've finally heard it, then you really know what you have to do to go on living. I can't stay here forever. The ocean would never tell me a thing. But if I get off, live on land for a couple of years, then I'll be normal, just like the others. And then maybe one day, I'll make it to the coast, look up, see the ocean, and hear it's scream."



I can never really know what it's like to see the ocean for the first time. In some ways, I envy adults who get to experience that. Perhaps they've lived in the Mid-West their entire lives and seeing the vast, open sea is the event of a lifetime. Sounds, smells, air they've never experienced. Unrivaled.

Imagine that.

Experiencing the beach with Henry was meditative for all of us. We've all grown up here, a mere hour from this place. Henry will, too. He'll never remember what it's like to see the ocean for the first time; his summers and friend's birthdays will be spent splashing in its waves and building castles in its sands. The roar of the waves will be familiar and friendly, not foreign and frightening.

He won't remember his first time, but we will.




* Images property of Stacy, The Sleepy Peach

Adventures in Building: Herringbone Daybed

I built something. Back in December. Wood and nails and glue and paint came together to make something that's actually functional. Oh, and it looks good too.

When I visited my sister in LA, I insisted we spend one day with her former college roommate and my new building soul mate, Shane, who just-so-happens to provide the delicious designs and furniture plans for her Web site, Old Paint Design.

On this lovely Sunday, Kim and Shane's husband, Brad, drank wine and relaxed with puppies by the fire. Shane and I built this daybed.

Ever since discovering Ana White over a year ago, I talked about building something -- anything -- once I had the space to work. If only I had the tools, if only I had an open garage, I kept thinking. But now, with Shane's enthusiasm and offer to let me join her anytime for building, I have no more excuses.

(For the full plans, head over to Shane's site to see how the Stacy Daybed came together. To read about my experience, well... stay where you are.)

When Jon and I returned to California from Seattle, we moved our 650 sq. ft. apartment into my parent's house. This included our bed, dressers, couch, television stand, and much more. They gave us free reign to create our own "home" with the space we were given. (I'm almost certain we have more space in my parent's house than we did in our little apartment, which is pretty significant.)

As our stuff moved in, much of what was already there had to be moved around. Our queen bed replaced a full bed and the full bed had to be moved to the guest room, replacing two twin beds. Without a room for the twin beds, I suggested moving them to the living room, where my parents had just gotten rid of an old set of couches and were not quite ready to replace them. I insisted that with a little love, and a hefty sprinkling of pillows, they would work great as make-shift couches. "Daybeds are perfectly sensible furniture, mom. Trust me."

Reluctantly, my skeptical mother agreed.

With that, I promised to build her a daybed. I consulted with Shane, originally saying I need two frames (turns out, one was enough for the space), and we looked through multiple options on Ana's site, including this one and this one. Finally, we settled on a marriage of that last daybed and a herringbone design of Shane's creation.

This was my first building project, and I can tell you right now: it was way too hard for a first-timer like me. Even Shane, a seasoned pro, found the angled herringbone cuts difficult to get perfect. Had we been able to build for one full weekend, or even two, it may not have seemed so hard, but one day was all we had. So we barreled on through; we couldn't afford to second guess our building choices.

Despite the challenge, I had the most fun building with Shane in her workshop. I was nervous about picking up tools after so long, but I was pleasantly surprised to find myself adapting without a problem. Measuring each piece, using a circular saw, learning how to use a drill press... it was easy, and within an hour, I was moving around this project like it was my 10th build. I soaked up everything Shane had to teach me.

And it's true: the kreg jig is as amazing as everyone says.

After working all day, and the bed finally built, we did our best to sand, prime, and paint as much as we could. But this bed was a beast, and it still needed to be dismantled, shoved into my car, transported to Santa Barbara and then finally back to the Bay Area. A handful of empty spray paint cans later, I realized the rest would have to be completed once I returned home.

With no functional work space in the garage, blustery winds in the backyard, and a full-time job to attend to, it took me two weeks to re-sand, re-paint and re-built the daybed. It must have taken 10 cans of spray paint to get full coverage, with the wind blowing a little bit away with every squirt.

Just in time for Christmas, and before the cold rolled in, it was finished.

My first building project.

I'm simply thrilled.

More importantly, though:

My parents seem thrilled too.


* Images property of People Just Float and Old Paint Design

More

"Jeffrey was fed up" by Marc Johns

I don't know how I feel about New Year's resolutions. Every year, I make one or six and I'm motivated... at the beginning. I plan everything; I eat better, move better, get more things done. By February or March, things teeter off and I'm lucky if I've kept any weight off or finished a single one of the 5 books I started. It always makes me nervous going into another year of resolutions, knowing how easily I lose sight of what I want. Yet despite having broken so many promises to myself over the years, I always try again.

But that's necessary, right?

This time, though, I think I will be less specific. Specificity is maybe the key to my failure. Sure, I want to lose 40 lbs (an absolute necessity after this gluttonous holiday season -- 20 lbs gained.... seriously), but that kind of resolution doesn't do anything for improvement of life; it's just a number. Plus, if I don't meet that exact goal, I'll feel as though I failed. Then what?

Making major improvements to my life is all I really want for myself, and what this year will be about. So with this list, I hope to guide myself into a 2012 full of health, happiness, productivity, and fun. This means focusing on the positive things, and doing more of them, and putting less energy into all of the negative things that get me down come December.

Stacy's 2012 Enrichment Goals

More walking with my dogs
More vegetables / water / tea
More experimenting in the kitchen
More reading
More writing / blog posts
More crafts / home improvement projects / building
More organization
More investing in beautiful clothing
More letter writing
More date nights
More early mornings
More gardening
More traveling
More museums
More money saved
More photography
More friends and family
More balance

So far, I've started my "diet" and am down a few pounds in just two days. (Seriously, people, it got bad this holiday season for me and my relationship with carbs. The temporary restraining order was necessary.) But I still have lots of changes to make in order to get out of my post-move funk, and it'll require a lot of inner motivation. Plus, working from home means there's always work I could be doing, which means my brain is always flipped to "work mode"... even when I'm not. This means getting more done during the day and leaving less to do in the evening.

Staying productive while being surrounded by distraction is still a learning process for me.

With that, I bid adieu to 2011 -- a year that was so good to me and proved to be a learning process beyond anything I could have imagined. Here's hoping that 2012 is a year of growth, love, and adventure!

::clink!::