I walk outside, the world cold and dark. Sliding into the car, I shiver and dig my hands deeper into the pockets of my sweatshirt. The trunk door closes with a shudder that trembles throughout the car. We back out of the drive way; Alina rolls down her window and waves to my mother standing outside the house. The knowledge that the time is coming lurks inside of all of us, I know, but we chit-chat anyway. And then, shining and bright, the lights of the airport appear. We haul Alina's luggage out of the car and onto the curb, and I stand there with her, talking, while Jeremiah adjusts some straps and Dad parks. The rest was a bit of a blur. Check in. Up the stairs. Security. Hugging close, not wanting the moment to end, willing myself not to cry. I love you, I'll miss you. Walking away, turning around for one last wave, one last glimpse. And then it's over, she's gone.
I hate goodbyes. 


The reminiscing, remembering of our adventures are the one of the things that make our separation bearable, though, like the trip to the lake a few weeks ago.

On that warm afternoon at the end of September, I pulled out the quilt and gave it a firm shake, and watched it ripple down to the grass. After changing into shorts and moving the blanket into the shade, I lay down next to my sisters. Alina and MeMe were immersed in their books, Lilly nestled between them. On my back, I watched the clouds float by, lazy with the breeze. My brother fished in the lake, while the soft murmur of my parent's conversation carried from behind the reeds. And as I lay there, an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment came over me. It was one of those moments where everything seems right and you don't want to be anywhere but the present. It lasted for the rest of our time at the lake, that euphoria. It's a time I don't ever want to forget.

Alina left this morning. Three weeks wasn't long enough, but I'm thankful for having time at all. Having family strewn across the globe is hard. Goodbyes come far too quickly and the time in between visits is far too long. There is a pang of envy and longing, I have to admit, when friends talk animatedly about how they met grandparents and cousins and aunts and uncles for Sunday lunch, or how their all their family lives nearby. It's hard, I'm not going to lie. But, just as in every circumstance, there's a grain of good in everything. In living with this kind of arrangement, I cherish my family that much more, and relish each moment I do get to spend with them. And the memories -- oh, the memories we made while she was here. They make everything better.

What are some moments you never want to forget? I'd so love to hear.

top: gift (urban outfitters) >> tank: target >> jeans: old navy >> moccasins: minnetonka >> necklace: forever 21 >> clutch: my mother's, from india >> bracelets: assorted

Yesterday was catching up on work, letter writing, picnic in the front yard, cleaning, organizing, and picture taking; above are just a few shots from my day. Reading that sentence again, it sounds rather picturesque and deliciously simple, but believe me, it was far from it. That's okay, though -- this space is to help me realize that everything isn't picturesque and simple.

But with that being said, I like the idea of living a simple life, and while a life can be portrayed as such online, the truth of the matter is that it just doesn't work out that way. There is always an element of the unexpected, of surprise each day and it's impossible to have a day go according to a simple schedule.

Then there is the matter of procrastination. I've observed that it's really just a form of forgetfulness. A willful type of forgetfulness, but the end result is the same thing. Everyone has those tasks -- the ones we'd rather not do but need to be done nonetheless. And it's when we tell ourselves that we'll do them later, we forget about it. And suddenly, the day is over in a blink of an eye and we still haven't completed that task is still sitting there, uncompleted. It's a vicious cycle.
While I've given up on trying to defeat procrastination once and for all -- we're human and therefore sinners, after all -- it's possible to put a crack the cycle. Though this may be common sense, when I complete a task immediately after I think of it, there is no chance to forget, and in the end, less stress and a simpler life. I confess to using the reward system with myself, because hey, it works.
Everyone struggles with procrastination, I think, but to simply say it can't be helped is not the solution. Heck, I'm just as bad as anyone else when it comes to putting things off -- I wish I could say that I practice what I preach, but I'm afraid to say it doesn't always work. However, by writing this, I'm hoping we can encourage and support one another and take baby steps to slowly improve our "condition".

And there are my deep philosophical thoughts for the day. Any other thoughts on this matter?

On a side note, do yourself a favor a listen to James Vincent McMorrow. If you follow me on twitter, you've seen my gushing lately, but his music is too stunning not to share. (favorites: if i had a boat, breaking hearts)

And now the birds are chirping, the sun is shining, and a quilt amidst fallen crackling leaves is calling my name. Happy Friday!

While driving through the Texas hill country early this morning, the sun rose, a fiery scarlet behind thick steely clouds. And then the rain started. First in splatters that I find resemble chicken feet, then a more pounding rain, beading up on the freshly waxed car. The trucks in front of us spewed extra water at our windshield; I repositioned myself, my body sore from remaining in the same spot for so long, and fluffed my pillow, tucked the blanket around my feet. And as I sat there, watching scenery fly past in a wet flash, I thought. About our trip. About writing and about life. About how, to put it bluntly, stupid family arguments are and how they leave holes in one's heart. Family is something that should be embraced and cherished, and to have it ruined hurts. A lot.

The rain tends to do that to you, it makes you think and then in the midst of deep contemplation, the drowsiness arrives. And as you're in that space between consciousness and slumber, everything seems to make perfect sense and the world seems right.

I'm home. It's been a crazy, messy, but mostly good few days. There are bags to be unpacked, work to be caught up on, a room to be cleaned, but that's okay -- after all, they're all things that come with traveling, a small price to pay.

Oklahoma weather is as beautiful as ever (after being reminded of Houston's humidity, I'm so thankful!), still warm during the day but cozy at night. The leaves haven't quite changed yet; nearly all the trees still verdant and leafy as ever.

And in this in-between time, the metamorphosis of summer to fall, there's the dilemma of food choices. Something that doesn't plunge too deep into fall, but not something light and summery either. Enter cinnamon rolls. They still hold a note of an Indian summer quickly fading away, but the spice of cinnamon slowly introduces the first wisps of autumn. But who am I kidding -- cinnamon rolls aren't limited to early October. I made them all through out this year and relished every single bite, but it's hard to surpass a warm roll with a cup of steamy coffee on a cool morning.

cinnamon rolls


for the rolls
- 1 package dry active yeast (2 1/4 teaspoons)
- 1 cup warm milk
- 1/2 cup granulated sugar
- 1/3 cup butter
- 1 teaspoon salt
- 2 eggs
- 4 cups flour

for the filling
- 1 cup packed brown sugar
- 2 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon
- 1/3 cup butter, softened

to make
   In a large bowl, dissolve the yeast in the warm milk. Add sugar, eggs, butter, salt, and flour, and mix well. Knead the dough into a large ball. (I used the hook attachment on my KitchenAid for this step) Place dough back in bowl and cover with a clean towel. Let rise in a warm place for approximately three hours, or until dough has doubled in size.
   Place dough on a floured surface; it will be slightly sticky. Don't be afraid to use lots of flour! It is essential for easy rolling up later. Roll the dough out until it is approximately 21 inches long by 16 inches wide.
   Spread softened butter across surface, add the brown sugar, then sprinkle on the cinnamon. Working carefully from the long edge, roll the dough down to the bottom. With a sharp knife, slice into rolls about 1 1/2 inches thick. Place on lightly greased baking sheets, cover with a clean towel, and let rise.
  Note: I prepare all this the late afternoon/evening before and let the rolls rise overnight, then pop them in the oven the next morning. It takes a bit of planning, but it's so worth it.
  Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Bake rolls for ten minutes, then rotate pan and return to oven for an additional five minutes, or until golden brown. Serve warm.

-carlotta

her pose, not mine ;)

On my left, the gorgeous eleventh-floor view of downtown San Antonio, the lights from the skyscrapers twinkling and shimmering in the velvety night. And on my right, MeMe sprawled out next to me, and Alina on the other bed, typing. We just got back from wandering around the riverwalk -- which is right at the foot of our hotel. We saw the Alamo, which is even more beautiful at night, listened to mariachi bands, and I photographed my hipster brother.

It's Monday. But not a typical Monday -- no, it's far from a normal start to the week. I'm in San Antonio at the moment; we left my hometown near Houston early this morning. It was so good to see all our old friends, but this is right now and I'm happy. My mind is a bit jumbled at the moment -- so many emotions and so much to see in such a little amount of time. Hence, the choppiness of this post. But more often than not, I find it therapeutic to just write and get it all out there.

I like fancy hotels. They make me feel sophisticated, something I am far from, but I like pretending. Humor me, will you? As we all rode the elevator to our room, we all began dancing to the music playing. No sooner did I comment, "Wouldn't it be funny if someone walked in right now?" than the door opened and a man walked in. Yes. There was an awkward silence.

relaxing in the roof top hot tub.

And yesterday was the perfect rainy Sunday. It rained in south east Texas for the first time in a long time, a steady pouring stream of water from the sky. I spent the afternoon in leggings with a button up and scarf, reading against a mountain of pillows as the raindrops continued to fall. And when pillows, a warm blanket, a book, and rain is combined, the end result is a slumbering me.

And just because she's cute, and because I can't think of a better way to end a post, here's Lilly singing Home.

Happy Monday!

-carlotta