strangers-project:


When I was 8 years old on summer afternoons I would lie in my upstairs bedroom watching ladybugs as they traveled on the top of garden hoses snaking across the lawn. I thought of these as “ladybug highways” and I imagined all sorts of scenarios for where the little orange travelers were going and what they would do there when they got to their destinations.
Now I am 60 years old and I realize that we all are traveling our own roads of life within a patchwork of journeys around us much like the garden hoses on those lazy summer afternoons.
The destinations may be profound or trivial, but the journeys themselves are what link us together as a community, a country, and a world. May you find your way to a happy ending and welcome arms, but, if not, may you appreciate and realize that the path traveled is the experience of living and the true meaning of life. Where you arrive is much less important than the trip that got you there.

strangers-project:

When I was 8 years old on summer afternoons I would lie in my upstairs bedroom watching ladybugs as they traveled on the top of garden hoses snaking across the lawn. I thought of these as “ladybug highways” and I imagined all sorts of scenarios for where the little orange travelers were going and what they would do there when they got to their destinations.

Now I am 60 years old and I realize that we all are traveling our own roads of life within a patchwork of journeys around us much like the garden hoses on those lazy summer afternoons.

The destinations may be profound or trivial, but the journeys themselves are what link us together as a community, a country, and a world. May you find your way to a happy ending and welcome arms, but, if not, may you appreciate and realize that the path traveled is the experience of living and the true meaning of life. Where you arrive is much less important than the trip that got you there.

(via rad-a-gast)

Growth is painful. Change is painful.But nothing is as painful as staying stuck somewhere you don’t belong.
Mandy Hale 

(Source: onlinecounsellingcollege, via rad-a-gast)

A New Orleans-based librarian known as “the book lady” for her dedication to her community has won the inaugural Lemony Snicket Prize for Noble Librarians Faced With Adversity.

Laurence Copel will receive $3,000 in prize money for her efforts, which include setting up a library in her own home and riding her bicycle to reach families in need of books. The award, announced Monday, is co-sponsored by the American Library Association and Lemony Snicket author Daniel Handler. The ALA and Handler cited Copel as a librarian who managed difficult times with “integrity and dignity intact.”

First of all, how awesome of Daniel Handler is it to offer this prize? Congratulations to Ms. Copel!

Pair with the latest Lemony Snicket gem, illustrated by Handler’s wife, Lisa Brown, then complement with this photographic love letter to public libraries and librarians.

(via explore-blog)

(via afootandlighthearted)

The Camp Counselor vs. the Intern

Feminist Utopia Fantasy Story

strangers-project:


My mother was in the habit of drying tea-towels (a dry wash-cloth) above her gas-cooker in the kitchen. One day when I was about 16 she did this, leaving the gas on low. Then she went upstairs for a shower. As she was drying herself, she smelled smoke, so she wrapped herself in a towel and dashed downstairs. She discovered that the tea-towel was on fire, and had set fire to the Styrofoam ceiling tiles. With great presence of mind, she whipped off the towel and beat out the flames. 
As soon as the fire was out, she heard a round of applause, and turned to see a row of trash-collectors staring in at the kitchen window, admiring her bravery and curvaceous form.

strangers-project:

My mother was in the habit of drying tea-towels (a dry wash-cloth) above her gas-cooker in the kitchen. One day when I was about 16 she did this, leaving the gas on low. Then she went upstairs for a shower. As she was drying herself, she smelled smoke, so she wrapped herself in a towel and dashed downstairs. She discovered that the tea-towel was on fire, and had set fire to the Styrofoam ceiling tiles. With great presence of mind, she whipped off the towel and beat out the flames. 

As soon as the fire was out, she heard a round of applause, and turned to see a row of trash-collectors staring in at the kitchen window, admiring her bravery and curvaceous form.

(via mcdona)

I am thinking of you.
What else can I say?
Margaret Atwood

(Source: violentwavesofemotion, via thatkindofwoman)

(Source: thehec, via thedryemocke)