Lists
Some of them are practical and messy - work to do, people to write to, bills to pay. Some of them are nostalgic - favorites from childhood, things I'd love to do again, things I never want to do again. Some are little day dreams put to paper - bits of life I'd like to see, words I'd like to write, places I'd like to go. No matter the shape or size, I'm a list girl.
Notebooks, envelopes from junk mail, the backs of the 2,468 crumpled receipts at the bottom of my bag, the blank pages at the back of my books, the notes app on my phone, and yes, in a pinch yesterday, the kraft paper packaging for the chocolate chip cookies I bought in a moment of weakness, are all up for grabs when it comes time to make a list; there are no safe surfaces when I need to get this information out of my head, and into the world.
Flipping back through previous commonplace books yesterday, I noticed that my lists, not unlike my life, seem to have seasons, and while the common to-do list is always present, the other collections I'm keeping seem to fit what I am most needing to pay attention to at the time. When I was feeling stuck and overwhelmed by my work, the lists captured what could be, what I could do, what might happen, where I could take myself if I could just see it all clear enough. When I was feeling anxious about what might happen, or solemn about what had, the lists were little compilations of grace and gratitude, reminders of what was already worth celebrating right there, exactly where I was at the moment.
When I started thinking about this project of writing for the month of July, I decided I'd go with whatever struck me to write about each day - no lists. This unrealistic plan lasted for about three more days, and then I found myself with a short scribbling of topics, and the realization, once again, that I'm just a list kind of girl, and that's that.
It's already the fourth of July, though I likely won't post this until tomorrow, and my list morning was a lengthy rundown of all the things I wanted to do this summer, which includes, but it not limited to, picking blueberries, spending as much time as possible in our yard, growing my own tiny vegetable garden, eating at least one thing from said garden, reading To Kill A Mockingbird for my seventeenth straight summer, and trying my best to make peace with the sun.
In the middle of writing just now, I stopped for a minute to make a list of my favorite books, because I looked up and saw one of them on the shelf, and I have a good feeling I'll be writing about them soon. This is usually how it goes - I think about something, then something else, and before I know it, I've got what amounts to an overflowing basket of thoughts in my head, and I need to put them down before they topple out in unexpected directions and make a mess of the place.
There's a good chance that by the end of the day I'll have made more lists, and to be honest I am already thinking I'd like to make another list of my one hundred favorite things, which I haven't done in nearly a decade. I'd love to put those lists side by side and see what's changed. For now though, I think I'll tackle a few to-dos so that list can shrink and expand as it will, and so I can free up a little brain space for what's next.
For safe keeping until I am ready to do my current version, here are all 100 of my favorite things from the autumn of 2008. I can already see so many carryovers to now, so many that will never likely leave my list, some that I have no clue what they are, and some that lost my favor completely over the years. I love how much things change, how much they stay the same, and how making a list can remind us of all of that.
- cardigan sweaters
- old library books
- clear, crunchy plastic book covers
- tiny envelopes
- coffee in the evening
- 1980 Dell Yearling Editions of Beverly Cleary Books
- glass jars with metal lids
- Andrew Paul Thompson (aka, Noodle)
- The Gleaners and I
- Pipi Longstocking
- photos of objects that don't initially seem important
- scraps of old newspaper in books
- other people's lists found on the ground
- soft lined paper with aged, yellowed edges
- apples
- muted colors
- lavender and pine sachets
- names scrawled inside old paperback books
- masking tape
- coffee/tea dates
- aisles in the library
- sharp pencils
- cold weather
- utilitarian stamps
- silverware patterns
- peeling fruit
- M&M (K)
- old picture dictionaries
- NPR
- rolodex
- harvest colored tupperware
- the smell of granola in the oven
- tiny spoons
- cherry cola
- semicolons
- brown ink pads
- yellow
- orange
- miniature plastic figures
- gummy worms and gin rummy before bed
- night walks
- paper that crinkles when you fold it
- bicycles with baskets
- jaguar sharks
- thrift stores
- grandmothers
- other people's recipe books
- yellow legal pads
- snail mail
- postage stamps
- puzzles with odd, detailed images
- pyrex
- lattes in large mugs with artful foam
- board games
- knee socks
- stickers
- polaroid pictures
- fountain pens
- brand new boxes of crayons
- large maps
- packing for trips
- fresh laundry
- a well-packed lunch
- typewriters
- library book cards (names and dates)
- cookie jars
- pocket doors
- cold, soft, cotton pillow cases
- the blue room
- lists
- my father's handwriting
- the comfort of my mother's (terrible) handwriting
- malachite green
- my sister's laugh
- crossword puzzles
- red nail polish
- extremely spicy food
- speaking in front of crowds
- the coral necklace that my mother wore to church
- notes passed during inappropriate times
- scones with strawberry jam
- glass Christmas ornaments
- wooden hangers
- butter shaped like flowers
- hot chocolate with marshmallows
- sending unexpected packages
- hand stitching
- stripes
- long, slow grocery trips
- finding snippets of old wallpaper in/under cabinets
- the sound of packing tape tearing off a box
- the two year old version of "question" - "squestion"
- an unused Sharpie
- Brinner
- avocados
- whales
- soft blue cotton ribbon
- the odd clanking of old radiators
- colorful leaves on the ground
- knowing how important it is to have things in life worth taking note of...