love language

I haven't taken a test for it or anything, but I think my love language is "time" (I'm not sure if that is a category, but if not it should be). It doesn't even have to be affectionate time, just time. Time in the same room, or heck, I'd take the same house. The truth is Brando and I don't get a lot of time together. We both work full time jobs and then some (and I have a really bad habit of saying yes to everything that comes my way) all with crazy non-family accommodating hours (enter: exact opposite schedules). We have been so blessed with our jobs and the doors that have been opened for us but....it would be nice to, ya know, not work. like ever. Just sayin.

*film photo from our vegan days, Vertical Diner in SL (instead of having pictures of food in the menu, there are pictures of old actors. Somehow that made it easier to choose. We recommend the Buffalo Tigers, and all the desserts. :)

memories twice removed

I see what happens when a camera comes between me and the rest of the world. It's a filter. It composes, curates, and crops. I like that about it. It's focusing on what I want to, and disregarding the rest. I think that's one of the beauties of photography, of art, of life maybe. But I wonder if it's always been that way. I don't know who's porch this is. They are images Brando got from his grandmother a few years back. He doesn't recognize them. I've come back to them a lot, like I want to/need to figure them out. That great floral print. That stark light. Those windows. Seats enough for friends. I imagine beyond the frame. A house with mid century modern furniture, not trying hard but being just right. A neatly trimmed front lawn. Modest. Not everything but so close it counts. The American Dream?

Will the past always look better? Like they had something figured out that we are missing? Or is it all just the same, then & now, only a few decades and memories removed?

The End of an Era ::the journal series::

"It's the End of an era"
That's what Brighton said.
It was our last time on the roof. Of course we didn't plan on it being our last, we had planned to have at least one more hurrah, but it turned out to be our last. it was a good last. We talked about our moves that would take us from that place that was home for 2 years.  We laid on quilts and drank ice water. We talked about goals and dreams and things that close friends talk about.

It's hard to forget moments like that.

I thought I'd miss the place
I planned on it
I planned on being dramatic and romantic about it.

It was great
It was right
And now it's not
And I only cried about it once, when I was sweeping those splintery floors for the last time.  

I'll remember the old place, the "cupboard", the studio, our first place. I'll remember the layers of wallpaper we peeled off, and the silly fights we had.  I'll remember sitting in the claw foot tub that Brandon refinished during a tiff or two, because there was no where else to go in that small space.  I'll remember the conversations we'd have late at night, learning little facts about each other, the seemingly insignificant quirks that make up our wholes.  And I'll remember the popcorn ceiling and the warped glass window and the holes in the floor.

It's hard to forget places like that.

And when I open the drawers here to find that groovy contact paper in oranges and lime green, it'll help me remember the contact paper in the cupboards of the old place, full of illustrations of herbs: Rosemary, thyme, basil.  and the musty smell will come back and I'll remember how much that place made me an us. I'll remember how that place became a part of me.

It's hard to forget feelings like that.





::the journal series::

I'm revisiting past journal entries, never published posts, and old photographs. I'm sharing them here, since this is, after all, a place for documentation. The words will will not be edited, nor the photographs. My hope is to record genuine flashbacks.

This particular entry was written just about a year ago, when Brandon and I, and our dear friends Tanner & Brighton, both moved out of the home that brought us together. The photographs were taken around the same time.

-Claire

The tulips are blooming in the yard, the box elder bugs are mating all over the front porch (and door, and windows, and sometimes even in the house....ew.) and I'm even sporting the first bug bites of the season! It's *almost* my favorite time of the year...but I have to get though hell week first.

Finals week does scary things to me. I get weird cravings, I get moody, I get sassy, and I get lazy. Last night, while finishing something for a group project (by my self, of course, cause we all know there's no "team" in "group project") I had to have ELFudge cookies. I just had to. so off to the grocery store I went. I ate them in bed until I fell asleep in a pile of crumbs and then ate the rest as soon as I opened my eyes....

Just a couple more all nighters and bing eating and then I'm done with my academic undergrad classes FOREVER!

easter sunday

brandon and I were lucky to go to church together yesterday, stay together for the whole 3 hours, AND hold a baby for two of them (arm is a bit achy today). So even if it weren't Easter Sunday, I'd consider it a winner. But it was Easter Sunday, which meant family, scriptures, good food, and of course an easter egg hunt. It was very different from last year. We were short three people (Dane and Brit in NY, and Brandon, working at the hospital). But my mom still played Easter Bunny and sis and I ran around the house finding goodies. I found the most hard boiled eggs (my favorite) but carmen found the egg with a dollar bill in it, so I suppose it's even.

hope your Easter was lovely: filled with good feelings and good food.




**I experimented with dying eggs. If I were a DIY blogger I'd post a how to, but aint nobody got time for that! Maybe next year (which is code for never).