Sunday Morning Coffee

I’m waking up early again, thanks to my new schedule (more on that tomorrow) and thanks to that, sleeping in on the weekends looks more like 7am than 10am these days. Let’s face it, I could never sleep very late. So here I am, coffee in hand — Sprouts Mexican dark roast, listening to a romance novel (When Beauty Tamed the Beast by Eloisa James), putting together a list. It’s been a little while so I’ve got a few things I think you’ll enjoy.

Sunday Morning Coffee

Every Monday morning I wake up and realize that I didn’t do a list the day before. So here you go, the first one in 5 months. So much has happened in that span of time, but maybe I’ll get around to it later. For now here are some things I have read and enjoyed or that have made me think. (This morning I’m drinking a Mexican dark roast I picked up at Sprouts.)

Things I’m Enjoying:

  • We Were Made For These Times: “When a great ship is in harbor and moored, it is safe, there can be no doubt. But that is not what great ships are built for.” – Clarissa Pinkola Estes
  • Roxane Gay: By the Book — If you do nothing else today, take the time to listen to Roxane read her story “North Country.” It is one of my favorites.
  • The best overlooked books of 2016, according to booksellers
  • Peaches, fiction by Georgia Jackson
  • Our Own Dolly Lama: “So I tell them, this life is a tough row for any girl. You may as well tease your hair and wear something shiny.” – Allison Glock
  • Leaving a Religion and a Marriage, and Gaining a Chicken Soup by Talia Levin — I’ve been really into soup lately (most recently made this one) and when this popped up in my email from The New Yorker I clicked on it, expecting a good soup recipe. There’s so much more here.
  • Resistance: the Mythos and the Logos

    This is another way of resistance, and it’s a resistance based on mythos. For those of us who live this way, it’s almost always based on a sense of individual calling, on a need to follow our own integrity and authenticity, on an inability to pretend to be what we are not. It might be a quieter form of resistance – though yes, from time to time we’ll come out of the forest and join the marches and add our voices to the voices of our brothers and sisters who have different skills and gifts.

    But here is our gift to the world: when the battle is finished and the enemies are quietened but the placards are broken and the houses have burned to the ground – we are the ones who will show you, stone by sharp-edged stone, how to build them up again from the foundations. We are the keepers of wisdom, the carriers of stories, the apprentices of the old crafts. When the blackbirds gather, we know what they are saying. It’s what we do; it’s who we are. We carry the resistance forward in our hearts and in our hands.

Sunday Morning Coffee

sunday-morning-coffee

After I gifted a friend a bag of this purely for the name, I had to try it out myself. A little lighter than what I’m used to, but I’m enjoying it. Kicking Horse makes some great coffee.

Now, I’ve got months and months worth of good reads saved up so I hope you’re ready 😁

Things I’m Enjoying:

  • When Grief Becomes Surreal: On the reality-bending effects of trauma in literature
  • This piece by Rosa Lyster about her father rediscovering fiction.
  • How Georgia O’Keeffe left her cheating husband for a mountain
  • You’ve Got Mail and the Internet of Ordinary People by Andrea Laurion

    I wanted to be Kathleen Kelly, her name crisp with that double-kay sound. She was a cool adult, one of the first fictional characters to give me an idea of the kind of life I’d like to lead. Asking a child what she wants to be when she grows up is a question that always pertains to occupation. Though being a bookstore owner was extremely appealing, it was more than the job. With Kathleen, it was about how she lived her life, how she looked at the world around her. Kathleen bought flowers just because. She wore black in the fall and pastels in the spring. Better yet, she was human, not an impossibly perfect idealized person. She said the wrong things and agonized over it for hours, just like I did. We both loved books and the Internet, a contradiction of analog and technology. And like Kathleen Kelly, I tried to hide my online obsession. It felt embarrassing, as if it was a sign that I didn’t know how to act like a human, which, considering I was an awkward preteen, I kind of didn’t.

  • Fried green tomatoes over basil goat cheese grits
  • How Annie Proulx researches

    My earliest memory in life is sunlight patterns on the ground coming down through the leaves of the tree. I remember that before anything else. That sort of sunk into me very early on. And my mother had a question she used to ask from time to time, sometimes when a piece of music was playing on the radio. Classical music usually prompted this question. She would ask, “What do you see when you hear this music?” And I always saw the woods.

  • Jackie Wolven on personal development
  • What lies beneath: an introvert’s guide to fiction–and life