the simplicity. the love.

Evan was here [in missoula… my new home] this weekend.

Yesterday, after running around, moving things, garage saling things, we had plans to go to the River City Roots Festival.

We stumbled in my new [ah-mazing] apartment, with nothing really ready to go in there… except for my new favorite thing.

A record player/radio/iPod player that was given to us at a garage sale that morning.  We had got it situated and finally turned on the radio to see if it was working.

This song was on their community radio station:

Oh, it was so perfect.

With wine in hand, I started dancing.

Evan put a pizza in the oven and we toasted to a happy home.

And then this song came on:

…It was just too perfect.

A love of mine, Gretchen, had just reintroduced me to the song just recently and I remembered how much I love it… then, that moment, in the kitchen, dancing [in the most precious interpretive, ballerina manner], it was all so well, beautiful.

The windows open, the wine poured for a third round, good pizza, we sat on bins and toasted.


We toasted to so many things, I can’t remember.

Evan took arty pictures:

Evan said…

– Do you still want to go to the festival?

– We’ll leave when a bad song comes on.

That time never came.  We stayed there, in the kitchen, all night.  Listening to music, talking, drinking wine, dancing and admiring the new record player.

It was one of those night.  Special.  Magic.  Perfect.

[…for no other reason than the timing.  the simplicity.  the love.]

workin’ on my night cheese.

Work is going well.  Very well.

I think they might be getting tired of me singing this every time I show them something I’ve finished…

“I made it!… I made it!…”

The days have been going like this:

Wake up.


Really wake up.


Breakfast?  A cookie.

Bike to work.  [p.s. i don’t get lost biking to work anymore… aren’t you proud?]


Design.  Design.  Design.

Go for a lunchtime run.  [i know… who would’ve guessed?  dan long’s not around to eat philly cheesesteaks with.]

Design.  Design.

Watch the guy on the roof from the building over… who my boss doesn’t believe exists because he hasn’t ever seen him.


Go home.

Design some more.  [freelancin’.]

Hang out with Liz Lemon.

Eat a box of macaroni and cheese.



Today, I came to a little coffee shop to work more.

Work on fun things.

Listen to the great music playing at the coffee shop.

People watch.

And try to keep the sun out of my eyes.

[and that’s what i’m doing these days.]

shared horror.

Wait.  Wait.  Wait.  Wait.  Hodon.  Hodon…

Have I told you I’m important?

Yep.  That’s an official business card.  I have an extension.  Don’t call me on it, though… can’t figure out how to set that thing up…

Work has been absolutely great.  Not last week, but this week… great.

But being new won’t stop me from being awkward, in fact, I’m pretty sure it just feeds into it.

Awkward Story #1

[Preface: Lots of Adventure Cycling employees model for photo shoots and then I use those photos for all kinds of stuff.]

Girl I Haven’t Met Yet:  Hi, I’m Allison!  We haven’t met yet.

Me:  Oh, yeah… I’ve been staring at you all day.

Allison:  ….Uhhh….

Me:  I mean… I’ve been staring at PHOTOS of you all day…

Allison:  Huh?

Me:  Phooo… Okay, I am being creepy.  Did you model for a shoot in Augusta?

And then we figured it out from there… but I’m 97% sure she’ll never talk to me again and tell all of her friends with kids to keep them. away. from. her.

Awkward Story #2

There’s a coffee shop closer than around the corner.  Everyone from work goes there everyday… at least once.  It’s awesome.  The baristas know my drink, know my mug… it’s great.

I order my double skinny vanilla latté and pay, stand, wait… [okay, i also order a cookie that i down in five seconds flat]… but, yes, waiting…

The young, tall, male employee hollers…

– Skinny Vanilla!

I walk up to him to grab it and with my creepiest older-single-aunt-voice, I say to him…

– Just like I like my men.

He looks at me in confused horror and I immediately start shaking my head in shared horror, as if someone nearby said that and definitely not me.  I open my mouth to maybe say something and then just look at him one last time before walking off with no explanation nor apology.

Oh, my goodness.

Thank god I have amazing friends and family somewhere.

I came home to the sweetest/awesomest card from Miss Jules.  [julia brettell.]

inside is says, "Miss You."

Does it look like my arm is part of the body?  That’s really what I was going for.

And AND my amazing family sent me a package chock-full of food.  Incredible.  I smiled with the most genuine love just seeing the package with the return address labelled, “Stevens Family.”  We are a family.  And families do stuff like send a package of food because they know a] that’s what you need in times like this and b] nothing shows love from afar like homemade cookies…

...and tasty bites.

I feel like, with these bangs, I look like a muppet.  A cookie-crazed muppet… but not the Cookie Monster… like Bert.. but also with a cookie-addiction.


i mean that to a degree.

During my lunch break yesterday, I wasn’t hungry [don’t worry I ate 2.5 dinners] and I was incredibly sore [hot yoga for the first time in forever], so I headed over to the library just to sit and read; relax.

I explored all parts of the Missoula Public Library and then landed in the periodicals, reading the paper in a circle of older men sitting, reading papers.  I felt very distinguished, like I was part of a club.

– Sorry, chaps… Am I late?  Gustav, pass me the Times.  Many thanks, dear fellow.

After catching up on who said what about the fault of our Nation’s debt, I stood and walked over to put my paper back in it’s resting place.  As I did, I heard the most rampant typewriting I have ever heard.  This intrigued and amazed me just at that because when I type on a typewriter, it sounds like one of the slower chickens is doing it.


But this was,


Thoroughly impressed, I went to find.

And what was I expecting?  Of course it was the tiniest little old man, surrounded by huge, leather bound books and paper, sitting in the “Research Room,” typing away with a huge smile on his face…. like he had been waiting all day, all week, all year, all his life for this amazing research, discovery… all to type it at lightning speed on the library typewriter.

It was just all too precious.  A scene from a movie I’d cry at [because of the music… they get you with that music!].  I couldn’t stop staring, watching.  I walked around that little research room and stole glances from every angle.

Too precious.

Too impressive.

And all this was with this song in mind, for no other reason than it’s beauty…

how come you never go there.

If anyone was wondering, change is hard.

And that’s just how it goes.

But, I have to keep reminding myself, I wouldn’t trade the hard for the comfortable… the evolution for the stagnation.

It’s always been the darkness that breaks my bones so they can reset correctly and grow… really grow.

So, what do you do when you loose it?  Cry at a market.  Crumble in the kitchen.  Have a drink at noon.

You sleep.  You wake.  You cut some fruit, start anew and listen.

Listen to yourself.

Listen to your friends.

Listen to this:


i was your clown.

Sometimes I think about my life with desperation.

How can I get happier?

What can I do?

How can I make others happier?

And it feels like always chasing.

I was thinking about this yesterday, and then my Momma called.

And all day, her birthday, I’ve been thinking about her life.  [the parts that i was there for.]

My goodness, I hope she is happy.  She must be, right?  Because without her light, I wouldn’t know happiness.

To me, she is perfect.

How she cries every single time at the end of E.T.

How she dances like no one is looking, but everyone is looking because she is such an unbelievable dancer.

How she laughs.  How she loves to laugh.  How she might be the only one in the world who can laugh at every one of Daddy’s jokes… and then we all laugh, because Momma’s laugh?  It’s contagious.

How she drops everything to sing every word to any Journey song that comes on.

Her love is abounding and infectious to everyone around her.  I hope if she ever wonders how to make others happier, she realizes her presence will do.

Happy Birthday, Momma!

I hope that the 35 years you’ve had on this earth [remember that one next time i need some moola] have been filled with joy and love.

I couldn’t love you more.

Can’t wait ’til the next time we can dance together…

Maybe to this song…

…it came on yesterday whilst driving and I rocked out so hard.

[i lovelovelovelovelovelovelovelove you.]