Lately everything’s been coming along in bits and pieces. Little digestible bites to enjoy and take in: from the arrival of a package, where an unknown object is cocooned in the familiar brown, to a stolen lunch with a friend on a Monday afternoon at a new Whole Foods where industrial barrels of olive oil are ready to be dispensed into tiny plastic bottles.

All the little scenes are ripe for capturing on my handy iphone — that trusty co-pilot for all my adventures.  This is especially true when the massive DSLR really can’t come traipsing through backyard leaves to reach first fall bonfires or through the rusty crevices of a crumbling mansion as Chris and I search for hidden, treasured furniture.

Loved Scenes, Abridged

The first fall bonfire in humid 80 degree DC September weather: flannel shirts, pumpkin-flavored snacks, raiding the snacks after all the guests have gone, the sharing of Spotify playlists,  and hanging in real yards where people have actual neighbors with kids and ABC-worthy drama.

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Since graduating from college in 2005, I have lived in eight different apartments. For a while, each year meant a nicer, fanicer apartment in a better location. We were moving on up.

Literally.

We eventually had to take an elevator to our apartment.

In many of these apartments, a nice person in a black suit accepted packages on our behalf while I was busy getting an MFA in Creative Writing and pretending it was normal for writers to live in buildings where you can send out your dry cleaning. As you can probably imagine, luxury buildings in a major metropolitan city, with their sparkly appliances and hotel amenities like pools and gyms, can be pricey.

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Texas is big, bold, and beautiful. It might as well be its own soap opera. With its immense size, varying landscapes, and torrid history, Texas has many season’s worth of drama already on the books.

As a northerner, born and raised in true Yankee fashion (which is confusing, I know, considering that I was raised in Red Sox Nation, which is certainly not Yankee fashion, but whatevs), my impressions of Texas were mostly based on what I’d seen on TV or in movies. And I’m not going to lie, most of that impression was unfavorable. But then something happened. A little show that could. A little show with some of the best acting you ever did see on the boob tube. A little show that was about Texas and football and made me think.


You may not believe in the medium of TV. Perhaps you’re a book person or a Kindle/Nook (<— reminds me of snuggling) person, but if you’re reading this, you gotta know that I truly believe in the power of visual media. When a TV show is good, when the writing is tight, interesting, and risky, the medium soars. Characters come alive, locales become believable, and you might even start to become deeply interested in Texas.

Even if you’re a Yankee, a raging liberal, a proud vegan.

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