"As I started down the 300 steps to the street, I suddenly felt that everything about me-- my ineptly dyed auburn hair, my fraying wool-twill coat, my cold feet in their ugly shoes-- was perfect. My unsuitable career was perfect. My furtive, irrational loves were perfect. I was exactly who I needed to be, and this filled me with a quiet, complete happiness that had nothing to do with what I had or had not achieved in life. The moment passed as quietly as it had come, but I kept it as a sign that whatever track I was on was the right one. That, in fact, almost any track, followed in the right spirit, could be the right one. Happiness comes in small moments when you're pursuing the big stuff. After a while, the small moments become the point."

He’s just so darn resilient. No matter what I say or do, he still calls me home and comes a calling whenever he damn pleases and doesn’t even acknowledge he’s fighting back, just walks right in with a smile on his face and a look that says I didn’t put up with you for the last year to give up this easily. He sees right past my angry words and frowns and right in to my heart where all I want is a big hug and to pretend like everything is exactly as it should be. What a guy. I think he’s a keeper. 

Dinner in a hurry? Hungry for carbs? Chronically addicted to cheese? Trying to die of a heart attack?

Oralgasm: http://smittenkitchen.com/2009/05/asparagus-goat-cheese-and-lemon-pasta/

I’ve realized lately that even though I may seem unreachable to most of the people in my life, I spend very little time alone, relaxing and simply being. Be it running up and down campus to squeeze in a workout between a full day of classes and sailing, or biking up and down the esplanade to take care of the dog (two weeks of dog sitting under my belt— a foolhardy endeavor), I am constantly on the run. The few moments I do have to myself have lately been filled with school work (oh, the woes of college life) and trying to squeeze in some last minute edits on my final papers and presentations. It just seems as though I’ve been overwhelmingly busy without a minute to sit down, breath, and just be. So tonight when I got off the water, I was hesitant to run home, shower, and bike on to my next endeavor. I debated canceling my plans entirely. I finally had an opportunity to just come home and relax, no homework due tomorrow, no pressing report to work on. But I decided to push through for one last thing, and continue my day if not for just a few more hours. And let me tell you, a glass of wine and the Isabella Stewart Gardner museum is no tough way to end it. I may not have been alone, and I may not have been mindlessly laying around like I initially wanted, but I perused the galleries, wine in hand, and spent two hours in awe over the unbelievable collection of a single woman. Not to mention, the gardens were exquisite and the orchids alone made the trip worth it. Can you believe I’ve lived in Boston for three years and this is my first time since college that I’ve been to the Isabella Stewart Gardner? I’m a little embarrassed to admit that out loud. But, I have now been, and enjoyed it thoroughly. Bon nuit, mes amis. 

All day today I couldn’t stop thinking about how it was the perfect day to sail out to the brickyard and swim and snorkel and lounge and stack rocks and sunbathe and finish it all with a bottle of cold white and a couple of lobsters in Menemsha under a gorgeous sunset. Ah well, I guess it’s just one more thing to look forward to in the coming weeks. I’m craving summer like, well, like a lot. 

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