Sometimes all you need is a bookshelf.

Our super friend Alicia gave us this bookshelf. She was moving and no longer needed it. She delivered it to our house herself and upon seeing it for the first time I openly expressed my love for how perfect it was. "It's everything I've ever wanted in a bookshelf!" I believe I exclaimed. She responded in her flawlessly deadpan way, "Well, it's a bookshelf. It will hold your books." Now, what she did not understand was that we had been in the market for something to hold our books for almost a year, to no avail. Though we did not search far and wide, the jaunt to Good Will every few months always proved fruitless, as our findings were always too tall, the wrong color, cheaply made, or just in bad shape. I eventually ended up having a surge of DIY inspiration and constructed a bookshelf by using the sturdiest cardboard boxes I could find and stacking them in the shelfiest way I could manage. I wish I had taken a picture before its demolition, because it was pretty freaking cool, I'm telling you, BUT it had a lot to be desired. It was weak, slanty, and maybe 2 and a half feet tall. Plus, it only fit about 2/3 of our books. I knew this creation wouldn't last forever, and that the right bookshelf would probably enter our lives sooner or later, but Alicia's bookshelf was blowing my mind! It literally fits all of our books, with one shelf leftover for pants! Now, in a dresser-less, small-closet world, that is a dream come true. It also has room for other extras, such as my box of photographs and my tin of treasures, my multiple jewelry boxes (which I should probably condense, but I have unintentionally collected many unique boxes over the years who do their job quite well), and the standard mixture of knick-knacks that have followed me most of my life. Of course, back to the most vital thing it fits: BOOKS!

(yes, okay, I totally just spent 10 minutes taking pictures of my books)

Oh, books, how I love thee...thou...whatever...the novels, zines, essays, short stories, auto and biographies, works of theatre, poetry, non-fiction, photography, music, history, hilarity, reference! Bringing such joy to my life, I always want more of you, and can never have enough. One great thing about living in Seattle is the abundance of independent, mostly used bookstores. Some of my favorites in our collection (from all over), which I would highly recommend to anyone, include: 

Siddhartha by Herman Hesse

Wake Up, Sir! by Jonathan Ames

The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle

In Defense of Food by Michael Pollan

Zen and the Art of Happiness by Chris Prentiss

Without Feathers by Woody Allen

The Book of Awesome by Neil Pasricha

A Personal Season by Rhonda Groves Young

Him Her Him Again the End of Him by Patricia Marx

The SunFood Diet Success System by David Wolfe

I Love You More Than You Know by Jonathan Ames

Zen Flesh Zen Bones by Paul Reps

There are more I'm sure, but that' a good start.

And who do I have to thank for this wonderful, rewarding relationship? Who is responsible for this glorious obsession? WHO is the inspiration of this long-awaited blog entry, you ask?

My Dad.

My thoughtful Dad, who I remember as a kid staying up late to read, was worried not that I was awake past my bedtime, but that I was hurting my young eyes by taking in the words in the dark. My creative Dad, who remains so admirably humble even though he is an incredible writer, story teller, and poet. My awesome Dad, who drove all the way to New York City and back while listening to one of his favorite authors read to him via audiobook and was as happy as a clam. My intelligent and hilarious Dad, who I know will be content wherever he is, as long as there is a bookstore nearby. My Dad, who makes an awesome Elvis.

Happy Birthday, Dad. Thank you. I love you. 

p.s. (You are fucking cool.)

p.p.s. Here's a video I think you'll like. Lisa Hannigan doing a cover of Bob Dylan's "Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues." Wish I were home to listen to it with you :)

I just had the most vivid dream about my Grandpa. We were at some sort of graduation of mine, it wasn't clear what it was from but my entire family was there.  It was outside and there were what seemed like miles and miles of food set up like a buffet...lots of Armenian/Middle Eastern items. The dream kept splitting between me in some kitchen actually inside the fridge (which is its own silly thing that I don't know the meaning of) getting leftovers and me outside in this huge lawn where the buffet was, talking to my Grandpa. He was telling me how much he loved the ceremony and how it was the best graduation he had ever been to. He was wearing a suit and tie, and my Grandma was next to him also dressed to the nines. He kept hugging me over and over and at the beginning we were smiling and laughing and then it occured to me in my dream that I should cherise these fleeting seconds because he isn't here anymore. I was overcome with a sense of gratitude that I was having this dream about this person I miss so much...and then I looked around and tried to search into people's eyes, seeing if they knew what I knew, but everyone seemed to be in a state of pure bliss. I started to get that feeling you get when you know a dream is ending but you can't bear it and you try to trick yourself into staying asleep and encourage your brain to make the milliseconds last as long as possible. I then realized he had been humming and then actually singing lyrics of a certain song every time he hugged me but I couldn't really make them out. I tried to concentrate with all my being on this one aspect to try to keep the dream alive and then it hit me, and instantly I started to laugh through tears. My Grandpa, in the voice I remember as being his, was singing "Who Needs Shelter?" by Jason Mraz (for those who don't know, I am a fan, to say the least). Of course as soon as I realized this I woke up, and though I usually forget my dreams quite suddenly after waking, I tried to think of nothing else but writing down what had just happened.  It's very interesting because though I do love that song, it isn't one of my absolute favorites, and I honestly can't remember the last time I listened to it.  So why that song? I don't know but it was definitely the best dream I've had in a long while.  It was so incredibly real, too.  Exactly how I remember his hugs feeling, definitely his voice and mannerisms. It was just wonderful to see him. I am very grateful for dreams :) 

Grandpa giving my brother a haircut, while I sport a fashionable turtle neck circa 1993.

If you're curious about the song here's a video of Mraz performing it live at Austin City Limits.