Happy new year! Lilly pointed out this morning that we’re finally in “good” satsuma season. I agree regarding the taste; the color has been spectacular all winter.
Winter. It finally arrived just before Christmas, drawing attention from its lateness by making a big deal out of bringing snow and ice and wind and, for most of that time, bitterly cold temps to the party. Change was gonna come – it always does – and it has: We got down to one solitary degree last night and it’s been getting warmer ever since. As I write, it’s 22° at nearly 10 AM, and it feels delicious outside. This thaw will also involve wind and some icy precipitation, but no one cares. Cabin fever is DEFINITELY a thing.
One of my beloved places is Quimby’s Bookstore in Chicago. It opened in its original location on Damen Avenue in 1991, about 6 weeks after I arrived in Chicago from Minneapolis, and it was love at first sight (well, it was for me). Ownership and location changed over the course of the decade that followed, but the vibe remains the same: Cool, often transgressive books and magazines and zines and other stuff you won’t find anywhere else, alongside stuff you CAN find anywhere else (see my selections above). I was excited to get out of the city and into C-U back in 1996; losing access to Quimby’s was probably the bitterest pill I swallowed, and frankly I could have used a place like Quimby’s after I got here. [I still could use such a place.] Anyway. Whenever I get to Quimby’s, which is now maybe once a year because I don’t get to Chicago that often, I’m most often making a surgical strike. I do not browse. How come? Because I’m usually either a) with other people who do not totally share my enthusiasm for zines and comics and books about fighting fascism/the women of punk rock back in 1985/conspiracy theories and I try to be mindful of this, b) I’m on a schedule that does not allow for much in the way of browsing, or c) both. In spite of these constraints, whenever I walk into Quimby’s, I feel relieved. I feel empowered. It still exists! I can find out about anything! It is home, they are my people, and one day in 2018… I’m taking myself to Chicago for a day so I can spend several hours in Quimby’s by myself.
I’m glad the holidays are over. So glad. I love starting new calendars, clearing shelves, making lists, doing the things on the lists – especially when they do not involve a lot of shopping or unearthing holiday decorations from the garage. Knowing very well my affinity for interesting paper goods, Cody gave me these very cool Field Notes notebooks and one of them is dedicated solely to house projects. SOLELY. Why? 909 needs whole-notebook-dedicated-to-it work. It’s a small house – it comes in right around 1000SF, was built in the early 1920s, and has some beautiful attributes, some questionable past decisions, and some aging appliances. I have the lists divided into two categories: Low-hanging fruit, which is basically getting rid of a bunch of stuff, cleaning, painting, and maybe some low-level DIY work; and boutique, way-up-there-fruit, which includes plaster work, new kitchen flooring, new appliances/windows/siding – work we really can’t do ourselves. There’s plenty in between that could go into either category depending on mood, motivation, and budget. It’s not all going to get done this year, that’s for sure, but major headway will be made and there is nothing I love more than major headway being made. Time is moving along dizzyingly fast and there’s so much to do. It took me 18+ months to adjust to having 909’s main residents be me, Jim, and the Lonesomes. Speaking of Lonesomes, Mattie says hi:
Anyway. I’m moving into the next phase of Being Here. On this lovely Sunday, Being Here means tackling some of that low-hanging fruit I was talking about above, putting together final seed orders from Baker Creek, Sow True, and Southern Exposure Seed Exchange, and committing fully to an enormous, riotous flower and vegetable garden in 2018. And, yep, reading about psychedelics in the UK in the 60s.
How ’bout you?
Grateful for the illumination the light of January brings, y’all.