Sunday, December 5, 2010

For the things are only things

i haven’t felt much like writing lately.  i’m not sure why, it may well be the weather, the changing darkness, the busyness of the holidays.  but i’m here and i will do my very best to spread some kay miller love all up in this joint.  
i know i wrote that i would share what I am thankful for.  i will.  that post means so much to me i almost feel like i don’t know where to begin, and so I haven’t.  but rest assured you shall see a post about it soon.
this weekend, I hung out with some of my greatest friends.  Kimmie, Fo, Maynard and JB.  We’d all played soccer at UMaine, our times there having overlapped at one point or another, and the tie that binds us - along with a large handful of other Incredibles - is as strong today as it was when we toed the line at the start of a match.  I love that I have them.  
Fo just recently moved to Narragansett (and lives right next door to another friend of mine, Brian, who gave her the hookup!  I love it when worlds expand!).  So anyway, Fo (her real name is Carolyn), moved down there for a job opportunity and having no real plans for the weekend, Kim + I jumped in a car, flipped on some serious dance party tunes and rocked the highway to, well...not-the-city.  I love beach towns in winter.  We never ended up walking the beach (my absolute FAVORITE thing to do) because a certain friend forgot. to. bring. a. coat.  But I digress.  So Saturday night we found ourselves sitting cross-legged on Carolyn's couch, giant glasses of wine in hand, shining light into our lives and offering sage advice (or wine-laden advice), both of which are extremely useful.  Then we hit the Mew’s - a very Killington-looking pub with dollar bills stuck to the walls and men with big beards and flannel shirts.  Well, okay not all of them had beards.  We had a great time, with more friends joining us and we found ourselves with the last car in the lot.
The next day we headed up to Providence for some dark coffee with JB.   Jen Buckley (JB, JBucks, Jibs, etc) is a real doctor as well as one of the most clear-headed, humble, brilliantly insightful humans I’ve ever met. The coffee was poured, the conversations were long and we wrapped it up with a solid commitment to write a book together.  I’m working out my chapter in my head.  I’ll let you know when it’s out.
jb, kmills + kimmie post coffee awesomeness
Anyway, as we were leaving to head back to The Bean, I noticed a quote tacked to a board in her kitchen.  It read, “Imperfect Simplicity.  Finding the beauty in the worn, the misshapen, and the everyday.” I quickly wrote it down on her Memorial Hospital of Rhode Island Progress Notes notepad .  It made a lot of sense.  
hospital note pad and my prescription.

Imperfect Simplicity.  When I go to coffee shops, my first instinct is to look at their scones.  If they look completely unique - you know the ones with all the nooks and crannies - then I know the place is going to be good, because whoever made those scones allowed them to take on their own shape in the oven.  The ones with the perfect convection oven shapes bore me.   This quote convicted me because more often than not in my real life I sometimes feel that everything needs to be perfect before I start.  Things need order and semblance and I need some sort of heads up that the end turns out okay.  For instance, I haven’t done a triathlon yet because I haven’t spent a ton of time on a bike.  I’m missing out on the experience because I desire to be good at the thing before I even try.  That’s so backwards. How can I look at life and desire perfection in one sense, and look at a blueberry scone and pray for imperfection?  Well, it’s obvious that one has more of an impact on my life ( One IS my life). And this is when I laugh at myself because honestly THIS is how I rationalize: give me food and I can give you an analogy:) 
The best part is that I can look at these things I want to have so perfectly arranged, and I can see all the energy I’ve used up just trying to make them take a certain shape. And they’re never perfect anyway.  Too hard!  If Perfect Complexity or Imperfect Simplicity were filters for how to live life, the latter seems much more freeing.  So this week I’m taking baby steps in those pockets of my life that need it most.  When I head to my coffee shop in the morning and I see the bumpy scone in the glass case, it will be a reminder to embrace imperfect.  It’s gonna taste good.
a delicious scone from the beach pea bakery, kittery, me.  very imperfect + delicious.

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