midweek felicity: empty lockers

hello

it’s been an odd week for me. starting summer classes // figuring out what this fall is going to be like // doctor appointments // errands // friends // life. i’m beyond touched by the outpouring of compassion + encouragement happening in comments, emails, etc. with everything that’s going on with my mom and her health, i think the best thing is to resume some level of normalcy, which means that it’s wednesday and it’s time for some midweek felicity.

so here it is, in the form of…

these photos ::

photo credits: one. two. three.

❤❤❤

these words + music

❤❤❤

these things

:: the intensity + beauty of the 2007′s sunshine

:: spending quite a bit of time browsing the wonders of bookshelf porn

:: putting born ruffians’ say it on heavy rotation

:: treating myself to bath & body things that smell like citrus + comfort

:: being in awe of jonathan levitt’s photography over at grass doe

:: saying goodbye to captain phil with a minimal amount of sobbing

:: the wonderfulness over at bhalo’s online shop

:: taking pictures of flower blooms + empty lockers at my mom’s old high school

:: remembering why hockey is my favorite thing on this planet while re-watching this hilarious video

❤❤❤

this loveliness

from out of print clothing

❤❤❤

how has your week been so far?

xo Alison

midweek felicity: as if to throw her down

right now…

it is unbearably hot // there’s a decapitated chipmunk under my zebra grass // i’m indulging in one of my favorite guilty pleasures: a girl meets gown marathon // the house smells like clam chowder + earl grey // i’m thinking about how relaxed + wonderful my week has been so far // here’s why…

these photos ::

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these words ::

All That Time

{which i first read over 13 years ago, and have loved ever since}

I saw two trees embracing.
One leaned on the other
as if to throw her down.
But she was the upright one.
Since their twin youth, maybe she
had been pulling him toward her
all that time,

and finally almost uprooted him.
He was the thin, dry, insecure one,
the most wind-warped, you could see.
And where their tops tangled
it looked like he was crying
on her shoulder.
On the other hand, maybe he

had been trying to weaken her,
break her, or at least
make her bend
over backwards for him
just a little bit.
And all that time
she was standing up to him

the best she could.
She was the most stubborn,
the straightest one, that’s a fact.
But he had been willing
to change himself–
even if it was for the worse–
all that time.

At the top they looked like one
tree, where they were embracing.
It was plain they’d be
always together.

Too late now to part.
When the wind blew, you could hear
them rubbing on each other.

— May Swenson

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these things ::

:: the 10-11 NHL regular season schedule being announced, which includes the pens having a home game on my birthday against my 2nd favorite team in the league, the phoenix coyotes!!! {seriously, what are the odds? the hockey gods totally love me right now}

:: dreaming of a house filled with things from the calypso st. barth catalogue

::  my favorite mischievous winger, #24 matt cooke, signing a 3-year contract

:: getting an A in my summer poetry course {woooo!}

:: this super rad, glitter-tastic nail polish i’m so smitten for

:: making up a drinking game for tonight’s NHL awards, which are always a hilarious monstrosity of absurd, train-wreck proportions

:: being the winner of this amazing bag in monday’s giveaway over at the always lovely inspired shares

:: having a warm cup of tea + a cuddly cat to comfort me through the latest episode of deadliest catch, which showed captain phil’s eventually fatal stroke and as a longtime fan was so heart-wrenching to watch

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this loveliness ::

{feathered sweatshirt // new duds}{unchewed penlid necklace // chewed by tuesday}

{andalucia pillows // etcetera media}{brooklyn scout #2 // andy pratt design}

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what has been the most awesome thing to happen to you this week?

xo Alison

hold its own

my weekend in…

sights ::

:::::::::::::::::::::

sounds ::

{awkward i}

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musts ::

:: the blackhawks getting a W in the first stanley cup final game

:: these songs {via tsuradio}—

i saw the dead : villagers, bandits : midlake, my companjera : gogol bordello

:: smirnoff tuscan lemonade over cold sprite

:: starting the day with damien rice & the deadliest catch

:: staying up way too late browsing HUH. magazine

:: garlic + lime salsa paired with an industrial sized bag of tortilla chips

:: the dessert porn over at ming makes cupcakes

:: my professor telling me that one of my poems would “totally hold its own” in an MFA class :)

:: this adorable article from our resident russian teddy bear, evgeni malkin

:: french fries + gravy a.k.a. comfort food for lunch on a lazy saturday

:: rosamund pike in an education, a film that i was unfortunately vastly underwhelmed // disappointed by

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lusts ::

{pocket size notebook // paperiaarre}{gray trees coasters // 12fifteen}

{spell it out for me clock // chroma lab}{pillow – honeysuckle // ryan green}

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how’s your weekend?

xo Alison

and our fathers’ backyard.

i have no special talents.

i am only passionately curious.

~albert einstein

today i totally bombed an important history exam. i confused john fox with john knox and it was all downhill from there.  i kind of want to vomit i’m so frustrated with myself. i couldn’t stop saying “oh my god” once the lightning bolt struck my brain and i realized what i had done two minutes after i turned in my blue book. i’m physically embarrassed. two very different people with very similar names. i am madly in love with this course and adore this professor, and i kind of want to go up to him and say “you don’t understand, that was evil doppelgänger alison, not the real note-taker-extraordinaire alison. obviously john foxe is the foxe from foxe’s book of martyrs, and not the presbyterian leader from an entirely different country. we’ve only been talking about it for the last five weeks.” is it overreacting to say i kind of want to cry? screw it. i kind of want to cry.

okay. deep breath.

here is some midweek felicity to brighten my gloomy mood ::

these photos ::

morning has broken

my favorite peach candle

tropical lip.gloss

nick + nora

even more blossoms

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these songs ::

:: “russia” by romona falls {the name says it all}

:: “folding chair” by regina spektor {palatable + vivacious}

:: “pirate looks at 40″ covered by jack johnson {summer personified}

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these words ::

The Black Walnut Tree by Mary Oliver

My mother and I debate:
we could sell
the black walnut tree
to the lumberman,
and pay off the mortgage.
Likely some storm anyway
will churn down its dark boughs,
smashing the house. We talk
slowly, two women trying
in a difficult time to be wise.
Roots in the cellar drains,
I say, and she replies
that the leaves are getting heavier
every year, and the fruit
harder to gather away.
But something brighter than money
moves in our blood-an edge
sharp and quick as a trowel
that wants us to dig and sow.
So we talk, but we don’t do
anything. That night I dream
of my fathers out of Bohemia
filling the blue fields
of fresh and generous Ohio
with leaves and vines and orchards.
What my mother and I both know
is that we’d crawl with shame
in the emptiness we’d made
in our own and our fathers’ backyard.
So the black walnut tree
swings through another year
of sun and leaping winds,
of leaves and bounding fruit,
and, month after month, the whip-
crack of the mortgage.

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these things ::

:: playoffs, playoffs, playoffs, playoffs starting tonight

:: the emanating splendor at lushee, vivacious photography, and fee-amore

:: my playoff necessities

:::::::::: junior mints {in loads}

:::::::::: wild blue lager, smirnoff, jack daniels, diet coke

:::::::::: bbq lays, various chips & dips

:::::::::: two loads of laundry made up entirely of penguins gear

:::::::::: a dozen gala apples to offset the junk.food.love

:: fresh episodes of glee and deadliest catch waiting on my dvr

:: trying out new shampoo & conditioner that smells like the gulf of mexico

:: skipping class to have breakfast out with two of my favorite people

:: receiving a happy 101 award from my new friend erin at dropped stitches

:: the new reading spot in the dining room made up of a retro comfy chair + ottoman, vintage cookbooks, and a sleepy gray cat

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this creativity::

{found here}

enjoy your day & LET’S GO PENS!

cheers [darlin']

Alison

wise, real

so now i like to swim

to the bottom of the ocean

there are i’ll scream as loud as i can

where there’s no one i can frighten

so i’d do anything to cry

i’d do anything to cry

let this pain fall from my eyes

and let time heal my insides

~”song for the painter” by lost in the trees

{me, age four, sassy}

on monday, my mother has a hematology/oncology appointment. it makes my stomach turn thinking about it. since the diagnoses, the reality of cancer has become so integrated into our new normal that there are days with entire hours where it doesn’t plague my mind. there are days when it’s a distant fact. and then dr. g’s name appears on the calendar, and it makes me feel like we’ve been living on borrowed time the last couple months. it makes me wonder if i’m going to look back on all the long country drives we’ve taken recently, the spontaneous lunches out, the t.v. nights, the penguins game, the endless rounds of six degrees of leonardo dicaprio, and think “those were our golden hours”, think that i should have made a bigger effort to “hold on to these moments as they pass”.

what does solace and comfort look like, feel like, smell like to you? does it change depending on why you need it? because i need it right now, that kind of comfort that’s associated with the feeling of consummate helplessness, defeating, exhaustive powerlessness.

solace, comfort, support, kinship.

what do they sound like? taste like? what is it about them that makes you forget about the thing that’s hurting you, or at the very least that helps sieve enough fear from your heart so you can keep calm, and carry on…

i have so much do do these next few days. i have exams to study for and papers to write. i have a bedroom in desperate need of cleaning. i have toe nails in need of polishing. i have hockey to watch and cantaloupe to cut and chapters on women in developing countries to be read. but all of that seems to be floating in the background, a small and constant buzz underneath my breath. all of that seems unimportant and trivial compared to monday at 2pm.

which could end up being a good day.

which could end up being okay news.

{or which could end up being not}

solace, comfort, support, kinship…here’s what those things look like to me ::

:: oolong tea

:: white cotton panties trimmed with lace, a little special + delicate

:: the distracting powers of playoff hockey

:: a mumford & sons + the tallest man on earth + balmorhea + lost in the trees mega playlist

:: the ritualistic simplicity of watering the plants

:: documentaries on ovation t.v.

:: old episodes of even stevens, starring my boyfriend shia labeouf

:: poetry. wise, real poetry

:: buying and/or lusting after new paperchase products

:: polar pops + cheesy snacks + m&ms

:: these movies: the valley of decision, about a boy, newsies, the thin man

:: keeping the front door open with the screen door closed

:: the new season of deadliest catch premiering this coming tuesday

:: imagining being inside these photos

{found at myheart}

i hope your weekend is full of adventure + love ❤

cheers [darlin']

Alison