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7 for seven

7forseven_key-and-arrowLet’s face it // Mondays stink. Or at least we typically expect them to stink. That is why, every Monday, I post seven positives from the previous seven days of the week as a reminder of what I have so that the week starts out on an upswing. There is much truth in the belief that happy people attract good things, so it is important to start the week out right. Sometimes it’s the more grand, but other times, it’s the simple things.

1. Due WEST. Patrick and I attended the opening party for an artist tour of West Austin that we got invited to take part in last weekend and the upcoming weekend. We mingled a bit, looked at the other artists’ displays, and ate bites from local restaurants. Emphasis on bites. Small bites. Delicious bites, none-the-less, but our bellies were prepped for substance, so we took our guts to our favorite taco place and indulged to celebrate our first show in Austin (Patrick is more experienced than I — so MY first! 😉 ).

2. Two Ts. My old pal, T and tacos of course. — It was my high school pal Thomas’s birthday this weekend, so it was fun to join him for dinner with some other friends, play catch up over a few margs, and eat even more Tex-Mex the next day. Whoops.

3. WAREs.  Patrick and I checked out our show on Saturday with a group of other makers and artists. The show concept is super cool (Show Statement: A curated collection of objects, furniture, and wares characterizing the interdisciplinary practices of Central Texas artists, designers, and makers. The domestic qualities of the showroom allows objects to be viewed in context, providing a tactile approach to the dialogue between object and architecture. The exhibit demonstrates the multi-scalar relationships of the works we live with and the spaces we occupy.), and the place look so great.  Patrick and I were able to stay and chat with some passersby and the people who put together the show. It was truly nice to spend some time with like-minded people who appreciated that kind of craft.

4. “There isn’t any is” Gallery Opening.  We had a day of fun Saturday, brunching at a downtown restaurant, checking out our show, lunching and imbibing at a place off South Congress, and fitting in some casual shopping. After checking out our space at Co-Lab Projects downtown, we decided to come back to the same building that evening, dodging a huge party next door — eek — another story), to see John Paul Rosenberg’s work, also sharing a space in that building. We shared a drink with some new people we are getting to know in the art world, and then headed back home to our sweat pants. Real life.

5. Sunday Funday // Adulting Edition.  After buying a washer and dryer (Patrick and I agreed that this finalized us becoming actual adults), we spent the day Sunday shopping for plants and gardening. Our next-door neighbor (a five-year-old girl) kept climbing over our fence and talking to us. I helped her make a card for her mother for Mother’s Day, and talked shop with her while we watched Patrick dig in the dirt. The extra vitamin D helped.

6. New Traditions. Patrick and I used to take walks at his old place every Sunday to a juice truck and pick up a drink for the way back to his house, but now we live close to our favorite coffee/bar. With most of its seating outside, we enjoyed some more sun, sipped on some beer, and enjoyed our favorite tacos in Austin (which is saying a lot!). We decided to make this our new Sunday tradition, as we live within a mile from our new third place. Sunday traditions are important to us, as Monday is often a day to dread — it’s something to look forward to in the evening, so as to stretch this traditionally lazy day as much as we possibly can.

7. Mother’s Day.  Even though I didn’t get to spend it with my wonderful mama, it’s always nice to take time to show gratitude towards all the sacrifices she has made and continues to make for her family. I don’t thank her often enough. I love you, sweet mama!

I hope to inspire you to reflect on all you have to be grateful & that your week brings you even more positivity + balance + bliss!  Feel free to share your seven with me as well / or even just a couple!

Have a wonderful week!



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Poems are always about more than just cicadas.

I thought about bringing back my 7 for seven this week, but I spent my Sunday violently ill and rested in bed (or prayed to a porcelain god) all day/night. TMI? Sorry. Even had I not been sick, I’m still feeling the vulnerability hangover from my last round of 7 for seven and having had my heart-broken for, what, the umpteenth time? I’m reluctant to share my life again since then, but I know that someday it’ll come naturally and I’ll be open to it when the time is right. For now, I’m going to share a poem with you that a friend asked me to write. We have been partnering and sharing our arts by responding to them respectively. I write a poem, and he writes a song in response. This time, he asked that I write a poem expressing my thoughts about cicadas (which I often hear late at night or in the early morning at this house out in the country). Enjoy! And Happy Monday! xo, Lauren


These old walls
may feel divisive

but I was here
before them

Let’s knock them
with our drum,

we are meant
for greater space

Let’s make
so loud
no one
can deny
we exist

In unison
we are loudest

No insulation or
No one
to hear

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I lied. A little bit.

There will be no 7 for seven again this week, as I am more guarded in sharing my personal life than ever, and I’m learning to be gentle and forgiving with myself by knowing that’s okay. It’s needed. It’s deserved. However, I am less guarded than (almost) ever in my in-person connections with other humanoids — the less guarded we are, the quicker we weed out the ones who are meant to walk/run the other way. Go ahead, run, I keep only the like-minded or the I-welcome-your-unique-mind kind of people within my reach.

In my new age number of 35 (because isn’t that all it is!?), I’ve definitively decided I want to do the opposite of disappearing, so I’m posting something in lieu of 7 for seven (though of course gratitude is a continued practice). A new friend of mine is a musician, and we’ve decided to work on a project together by responding to each other’s art. He sent me a music sketch, and I’ve written a poem sketch in response. I’ve double-pinky sworn not to share his sound bites, as they are a work in progress (he’s planning on doing much bigger and better things with his), but as a blogger, I’m a little more masochistic I suppose (ha!) and am willing to share my works-in-progress. Here’s the first one (baring in mind it IS a work-in-progress):

Photo cred:

Photo cred:

Before my time,
lines were silent and invisible, but people
were aware of them.
People sailed by the lines like breathing
and putting one foot in front
of the other.
They knew to move
because meanings only materialized
in stillness ­­
and became audible when limbs were pinned
to the sides of their respective
bodies. When the lines connected in waves and spoke in a language only the in­between understood,
people’s mouths were used for nothing


Then there was a history of string.
It held together the words that often got lost in contemplation.

Despite what one might think,
the physical distance between two people
using a string
was more often than not ­­
the nearness only detected by skins;
sometimes the smaller the distance, the greater the need for the string

­­ people needed it to guide their words
to their destination without knocking off lazy limbs dangling almost without connection
left to try
under water

too many crash up on the rocks

despite the foghorn’s warning, “I care about you and go away.”

When the thickened air makes the string disappear once again, and we don’t turn around, it is the opposite of disappearing;
we are St John’s at dusk.

Protected: 7 for seven

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Protected: 7 for seven

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