Tuesday Tunes: the Talking Heads "This Must be the Place"

As a kid I didn't listen to the radio much. Instead, I jammed out to the music my parents loved. I danced around the living room to Talking Heads, belted "You're So Vain", and played our Earth, Wind, and Fire CD into the ground. As I got older my tastes changed and I went through different phases in music, succumbing to the angsty stage of  middle school, and then later, growing to love more alternative music. Now, I listen to those old favorites once again, and oftentimes share my new-found music taste with my Dad. (He loves Of Monsters and Men!)  Here's an older song I want to share with you. If you grew up around this era it'll probably be familiar. It's slightly quirky, but definitely fun (kind of sounds like me...). So here it is, a song making me seriously nostalgic, "This Must Be the Place" by the Talking Heads. Happy Tuesday!

Ramblings of a Bibliophile

Do you love the smell of musty old books? Do you drink it in like a new perfume? Would you rather spend an afternoon leafing through volumes of poetry and turning the crackling pages of worn novels, than sifting through racks of clothing in a mall? If so, my friend, you are most definitely a bibliophile, a lover of books. Now, don't get me wrong, I like shopping as much the next girl, but for some reason I'd rather sort through labels that say "History," "Fiction," and "Russian Literature" than ones saying Aeropostale, American Eagle, or Gap. I prefer used bookstores to new as well. For me,  there is something magical about volumes of books that have to be searched through, gingerly picked up, and lovingly cared for because they've already been passed through several other sets of hands. 

I recently made a visit to my favorite bookstore. Located inside of an old tobacco warehouse, the wooden floors are creaky, the musty book smell perfect, and it's shelves are full to the brim with every genre you could think of. It really is better than any mall.

Driftless Books

Perfection.

At the end of an hour of ecstatic exploration, I managed to come away spending under 20 dollars for a beautiful copy of Shakespeare's collected works and a book containing two of Steinbeck's novels. This bibliophile couldn't be happier.

Tuesday Tunes: Jake Bugg- "Simple as This"

It's time for another song and I'm really in love with this one. It has a great old-time feel to it, almost Jim Croce-ish. The neat thing is that Jake Bugg, the singer, is only a year older than myself. He hails from the UK and has a seriously feel-good voice that you won't help but get hooked on. Hope you enjoy!

The Six Phases of Christmas

There seem to be several steps to Christmas every year. In my family it goes a little like this:
Phase 1: "OH MY GOSH IT'S ALMOST CHRISTMAS!"
During this stage, my mom starts making gifts and compiling things for everyone she knows. I'm not exaggerating. Our dining room explodes in a bomb of wrapping paper, ribbon, glitter and sharpies. I'm always amazed because she thinks of everyone from neighbors, to relatives, to that random old man from church that we haven't seen in ten years.

Phase 2: " DECORATE EVERYTHING!!!!"
Out of the dusty basement come the boxes of stockings, ornaments, lights and the prized Christmas village. It's officially time to decorate. My sisters and I have enough energy to practically run a small country and we pump up the music, and roll out the cookie dough.There is, it seems, no limit to what we can accomplish.

Phase 3: (approximately 2 days later) "CAN WE BE DONE NOW?"
I think at some point we reach this stage, but aren't quite willing to admit it. The tree is decorated and the majority of gifts wrapped, so we're feeling pretty accomplished and now all we want to do is sleep, eat, and watch It's a Wonderful Life.

Phase 4: "NO! YOU AREN'T DONE UNTIL CHRISTMAS IS!"
The marching orders come in. Continue on. String more lights. Wrap more gifts. Bake more cookies. You want to watch a movie? That's just too bad. There are Church Windows to be made! And so, we continue on.

Phase 5: "THANK GOODNESS! IT'S FINALLY HERE!"
That glorious moment when Christmas actually arrives is one of complete bliss for children and adults alike and everyone in my family goes to Mass, comes home to eat and proceeds to fall asleep after opening presents. The hard work has paid off.

Phase 6:  (12 days later...) "CLEAN UP TIME!"
"ummmm...... what? Clean-up? What's that? Nah, I don't do that. Can't we just leave the tree up all year? "

                                                 THE END (UNTIL NEXT YEAR THAT IS)

Tuesdays are for Music: The Vespers

I love music. Not just one kind either, like country, or jazz. I actually listen to country and jazz and folk and indie and rock and classical and well, you get the point. One thing I'd like to do on this blog is to share my love of music. Because who doesn't want something new for their ears to explore, right? So, every Tuesday check back here for a song to make your Tuesday a bit more interesting. It might be something you already know, or it may be something entirely new to you. Take it or leave it, it'll be here. I don't know about you, but sometimes I need to hear The Talking Heads, but other times its a "Hips-Don't- Lie" kind of a day and I'll be dancing to Shakira in my bedroom, pretending I know how to move my hips. Either way, I'll post some music on Tuesdays for your listening pleasure.
     This song, "Footprints in the Snow," is one that I only recently discovered, but fell in love with because of its haunting sound. The band is called The Vespers and is made up of two brothers from Tennessee and a set of sisters (unrelated to the guys).

They have a very cool folk sound, great harmony and unique lyrics, which is always refreshing (cough, cough, Ariana Grande).So give it a listen and, if you want, tell me what you think in the comment section below. Happy Tuesday!

Yoga...so that happened.

Today was one of those ultra-productive days. You know, those mornings that happen about once every eleven years, in which you wake up feeling like you can conquer the world? Yeah, today was one of those. I think it may have had something to do with the fact that I had slept in my own bed the night before, and gotten a good nine hours. (what?!?!?! That happened?) Yep, NINE beautiful hours of sleep. So from there I proceeded to have my much-loved cup of steaming hot coffee, grade my younger sister's homework, start a fire in our woodstove, single-handedly decorate our Christmas tree, and then make stir-fry for dinner. I have to say, it felt pretty great and was one of the first days in a long time where I felt really productive. The Christmas tree, by the way, looks pretty good, if I do say so myself,( other than the star deciding to be stubborn and not straighten out.) Also, my mother happens to be one of the most creative and talented women on this earth and her idea this year was to decorate pine cones with glitter for the ornaments. It looks like this...

So after jamming out to the Elf soundtrack, and successfully making an edible meal, I went and did something entirely new. I attended a Yoga class. My mom and sister both urged me to do it and I warily agreed. It turned out to be a highly, um...educational, experience. For one thing, I learned that my 15 year-old sister is a total yoga pro. While I was wobbling around, trying helplessly to balance on one foot and hold my other ankle in the air, all the while attempting to avoid awkward eye contact with the instructor, my little sis was calmly perched on one foot, like she'd been born doing it. The rest of the session was actually not too bad, although I had to stop myself from bursting into uncontrollable laughter when the teacher told me to lay on the floor, and proceeded to turn out the lights and drum in the darkness, urging everyone to "inhale and remember their gratitudes". Gratitudes? Not sure that's actually a word. Anyway, overall, I have to admit, Yoga felt great, and drumming aside, was pretty effective. I'm looking forward to doing it again. It's time now, however, for Sleepytime Vanilla tea and a meeting with my pillow. So, how do you say it? "Namaste!"

homeward bound

    Home for me is Wisconsin. It's the land of cheese, feisty Packer fans, and plenty of beer. Wisconsiners are, for the most part, some of the most down-to-earth people you'll meet, and whether you need another batch of batter-fried cheese curds, or a helping hand when your car inevitably slides off a wintry road, a Wisconsiner won't fail you.
    More importantly, though, I'm returning to my home, to a beautiful house, at the top of what is, I'm sure, a dauntingly icy driveway, where a fat, old beagle and a sleepy cat await.

Honoria Glossup, my sassy cat.

Bertie, our fat and loveable beagle. 

 It's time to go home, hug my parents and siblings, hold babies, read books in front of a cozy wood stove, and just breathe in the delicious, familiar scents that come with a place well known to me. Goodbye New England, it's been grand. I'll be back in January, but for now, I'm homeward bound.

   

Finals Week

I suppose attempting to start a blog during the craziness of finals week may not be the best idea, but when there's the itch to write, what can a girl do? I've actually never pegged myself as the blogging type, but after leaving my once faithfully kept journals to collect dust amidst candy wrappers and forgotten Latin flashcards, I've decided I still need to write. This may be a failed attempt, but it's still an effort to share my silly thoughts, right?  So in between my merely academic scribblings at college, I'll try to write about life as a nineteen year-old student, living on a mountain in snowy, sleepy New Hampshire, and attending a small liberal arts college. If you're wondering what it looks like, don't worry, I make attempts at  photography too! And now, I need to return to the reality that finals week is here.
                                                  Much coffee will be consumed.

The college's little chapel.

The view I get to see every day on my walks to and from class.

Heading back to my the dorm under falling snow, with the  glow of  Narnia-like lamps guiding my way.