Bueller?

For a while now, I’ve had stewing in the back of my mind a project I can best describe as Buellerian.  Thinking of it in terms of a John Hughes movie gives it the right flavor of playfulness and deflates any (or at least most of the) potential pomposity from the get-go.  In a nutshell, the project is simple: to record some stuff that makes me happy every day this summer.  It’s silly, but that’s the point, too.

In a larger nutshell, it’s a bit more complicated.  I suspect this year of being sponsored by the letter “F”: frenzied, frantic, and frenetic.  In all the ways that those words can shift between exhilarating and exhausting.  So the summer is all about seeking out the silly — luckily, Nashville provides ample material — and revelling in it.  That’s where Ferris Bueller comes in: “Life moves pretty fast. You don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”  I think I’ve been missing it.

So I’m attempting to miss less.

In that spirit, I bought a ridiculously bright scarf yesterday because it was cheap, at H&M, very yellow, and made me happy in its beacon-like unmissability.

And in the midst of all of this heady activity, I’ve even managed a bit of knitting.  In fact, the first of the Regentag socks is limping towards completion thanks to a couple of delightfully outlandish ingénue-based movies: A Summer Place (1959) and Sissi (1955).

That’s right: a turned heel and a new notebook.  So far, so good.