Sunday Sessions

Finding Small Town Zen

Last weekend I visited with my family. We traveled “up the mountain,” (read: a tallish hill), traversing winding back roads, stopping off at an antique flea market, enjoying a roadside picnic, and stopping in a general store to watch a bluegrass band rehearse Paul Simon tribute songs. My phone didn’t work much of the time that I was there, and to be honest, that was fine by me.

I don’t often find myself looking for a slower pace of life, but on those days where you’ve been pushed around on the subway, watched a man urinate on the tracks, and drop a bag of groceries 20 feet from your front door, you wonder if this is really all there is. Luckily my neighbor has reminded me that I don’t need to go far to find that small town zen. This morning we’re putting on our work gloves and I’m learning how to garden. In the middle of the concrete jungle, I’m going to grow things.

We’re traveling again next weekend for the wedding of our good friends, so I’ll see you back here in two weeks. Take care of yourself until then.

Read

I live across the street from a school and a park. It has been a pleasure to watch kids “loiter” there. In this space, they’re interacting with each other, playing tag, swinging on swings, giggling and flirting—most of the time, they’re not on their phones. Maybe we should say yes to loitering more often?

I’m discovering David Bowie after his death.

Oof.

A decade ago, we took my little brother to Medieval Times for his 21st birthday. The food was terrible, but it was a lot of hokey fun. Looks like it just got a lot better.

Do you know about Tiny Desk Concerts? Did you know you can watch all of them on the website or as a video podcast? I often turn one of these on the Apple TV while I’m getting ready in the morning.

I only worked in a restaurant for one summer (turns out I’m not very good at waitressing), but I was in awe of the expediter—the brains of the operation.

A magazine you can only read when you disconnect from the Internet.

The overwhelming whiteness of cookbooks.

Ramona Quimby will be age 8 forever. Meanwhile, her creator, Beverly Cleary, is 102.

I just finished A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and The Underground Railroad, just two more gems in what has been a spectacular year of reading so far.

Listen

Last night, David and I attended a taping of Live from Here, the successor of A Prairie Home Companion, and very much unlike its predecessor. I’m not sure if the impact of the live show can be gleaned from the audio (linked above), but it’s well worth your time to give it a try.

 

Standard