the place shaped like home

Storm clouds over Sandwich, Illinois, May 2006

For some reason, whenever I'm traveling or away from home (meaning the place where I was born and raised), I seem to get this hankering for Annie Proulx stories. If you're thinking I'm now about to tell you about the Annie Proulx stories I'm currently reading, well, you're wrong, because I'm not reading any. Nor will I get into why I think I crave these stories while abroad. (Erm, ok, maybe a little - it has to do with cowboys and stoicism and the landscape and the beautifully crafted sparseness of the prose. Can't pinpoint it beyond that at the moment, I just know I want an Annie Proulx story the way I sometimes get this desperate urge for peanuts and Coke. It's nothing I was raised on, not specifically, and yet it's often exactly what I need to fill the space in me calling out for home.)  Anyway, I was just thinking, and I decided to share. So. That's that.

truth beauty

Haven't been writing lately, as my internet connection is slower than slow. Truly, it took FOREVER for these pictures to load. I vacuumed and mopped my whole apartment while I waited for them to appear. Which also tells you that my apartment is rather small, but still. STILL.

I can't complain too much, though, because LOOK AT THIS:

If that is not one of the most beautiful things you've ever seen, then I can't help you. In fact, there's probably no help for you. Because OH MY GOD - gorgeous. Tomatoes! Cilantro! Geraniums! Summer.

::sigh::

I left work early today, as I'm (once again) getting sick. This time it entails losing my voice, along with headaches and dizziness. It does not, however, include loss of appetite (such a loss is, let's face it, quite the rarity for me). So on my way home, I stopped briefly at the local market and picked up a few things. If only I could post smells on this blog, because the scent of that cilantro is incredible. It has permeated my entire fridge and most of the kitchen. (And thank god - what a welcome alternative to the overpowering stench of French cheese that managed to linger for months.)

I'm thinking I may have to declare this my personal flag:

I piled all of this on top of some couscous, tossed it with olive oil, and dolloped Greek yogurt on top. So simple, and yet so good I could probably cry. Truly - sometimes I marvel at the fact I don't go around with tears constantly streaming down my face, there is so much joy to be found in this world.