mineola & more

Naturally, when I have lots of things to do, I like to blog instead. Recently I've been blessed to talk to some good friends from home on the phone, and it reminded me of how I got the name of this blog in the first place.

Almost four years ago to the tee, on the weekend of October 18 sophomore year of high school, I was invited on a whim to go celebrate an acquaintance's birthday at her farm in Mineola, Texas, about an hour and a half away from Dallas. While we knew each other from school, we didn't really associate with each other outside of class, so it was a bit odd that she invited me, but I didn't have anything better to do so I went for it.

That weekend we partook in a haunted house adventure (scared out of our minds by the local high schoolers in clown costumes), cooked sausages over a fire, tied a rope to a chair and rode behind a four-wheeler, and fed the cows. That weekend was also the beginning of my friendship with Jenna, who had invited me, and the rekindling of my friendship with Margaret, whom I had known throughout the years but had never really spent time with. Little did I know that that one weekend would be a life-changing one. Now, four years later, we are hundreds of miles apart - Jenna goes to Colorado State, Margaret's down in San Antonio at Trinity, and I'm in honky-tonk Nashvegas, Tennessee. I would give anything to go back to Mineola next weekend with those two.

That Mineola trip was the first of many to come, and almost a year later, we returned for an august summer adventure. This time, we decided to float the "river" (which was really a creek with a foot or less of water) in an inflatable raft made for two people (and there were three of us). Because it was only made for two people, the only way we could really fit is if we all, for lack of a better term, straddled each other, with our feet over the edges of the tube. I was in the middle. Jenna and Margaret are naturally tan individuals. I am not. With her unique laugh, Jenna remarked something to the effect of "look! it's an anne tanwich!" as she took a picture of the stark difference in the color of our legs (seen here in exhibit 1):


I was definitely a happy camper.


Needless to say, it was not the most successful raft trip, as we hit rock bottom at one point, popped the raft, and ended up having to walk the rocky shore line all the way back to the house. What should have been a one hour float turned into a three hour adventure with me getting out to gather lost paddles and other various items the majority of the time because Jenna was convinced that there were alligators amidst the waters and Margaret believed her. That being said, I wouldn't change a thing about that trip, and I wouldn't trade these two for the world.


love,
anne tanwich.

october 1st

I woke up this morning and had this great feeling. That feeling of waking up on a december morning after the winter air had invaded your room overnight. It's cold but you like it, and you head downstairs following your nose to the kitchen where your mom had started fixing breakfast - coffee cake and eggs and bacon. Then you go snuggle into the sofa with your coffee mug warming your hands and your heart, listening to the crackle of the fire, and it's not until then that you realize it's Christmas day.

So maybe I woke up today and realized that I wasn't at home on Christmas day in my comfy bed with bacon on the stove downstairs and coffee waiting to be sipped on. Instead I was in a dorm room. But I found that instead of disappointment, I felt contentment. I swung my legs over my lofted bed, fixed a bowl of cereal, put Nat King Cole on the Crosley, and settled into my hammock. Molly and I decided that because it was October, it was now officially fall and the season of holidays. Which is the best time of the year. And the reason I felt so content this morning is because I have decided my favorite part of my everyday routine is waking up in the room, feeling at peace with no cares in the world. There is absolutely no feeling of being rushed... we eat, drink coffee, read, journal, have a quiet time, and listen to the record of choice for the morning. Not a bad way to start the day.

This morning, I opened the book "Bittersweet" by Shawna Niequest, and sure enough, the chapter is called 'love song for fall.' She talks about pumpkins and changing leaves and moving forward as seasons change. She elaborates on how we were made to create and how it makes us feel whole and alive. She notes that there really is no need for another artist in the world, but then interjects, saying that the world may not need another painter or musician, but you might. Sometimes it is so easy to put aside your craft - whatever it may be - and just do mindless work: clean the kitchen, do your laundry (read my accounting book...). But as an artist, sometimes you just have to set that stuff aside and focus on your craft. Get off your butt, get off that wifi you're stealing from your neighbor, and create.

Sometimes all we need is someone who is pursuing their own art to be right there beside us for that boost of creative energy. Shawna talks about going to a coffeeshop to meet a friend, and while they don't talk much, they both know they're there for each others encouragement. That being said, I think the best friends you can have are those whom you can share silence with and not feel awkward, but at peace. And while Shawna focuses on honing your craft, your innate drive to create, there's also something to be said for enjoying those artistic endeavors of others - music, literature, paintings - whatever they may be. One of the greatest artistic endeavors I marvel at is the world that was created for us to live in.

While this morning could not be better as of yet, the plan for tomorrow morning involves a walk to a coffeeshop, the outdoors (tis the season), and Harry Potter. Oh, yeah.

love,
anne