just call me flake.

I don't like to call myself a flake. Nobody wants to be the girl nobody calls because she never comes. In fact I think I make an incredibly concerted effort to make it look like I am the least flakey person ever. Especially since I got an iPhone. iPhones are revolutionary in their ability to make someone uninteresting look cultured, multifaceted...sepia-ed. And with a blog title like "here and there", I feel it's necessary to accurately depict some heres and some theres. But when you aren't traveling and aren't having a good day and your hair is too greasy and you're tired and it's dreary outside, it's hard to muster up the will to want to do anything that would make a blog entry worth reading. Monday I had the opportunity to see Martin Scorsese speak at the Kennedy Center for free, and I didn't go. I had tickets. I even showered to go. But I didn't. Thankfully no friendships were on the line in light of my failure to show up, which is probably the biggest reason I didn't go. But lots of times an event arises that would require me leaving my apartment or little neighborhood to venture out and perhaps ENJOY myself, and I sometimes just sort of flake out. This is funny, because at the same time I absolutely love to travel and see new things and places and meet new people and try new food.

Honestly though, as dearly as my heart aches for travel, my heart also longs for solitude. We can keep contributing my flakiness to being boring, but I like to think of it as being introverted. The older I get, the more I realize how difficult it is for me to posture myself in such a way to be available at anyone's beck & call. The times I spend in solitude are times where I find my energy to go on. Henri Nouwen says things very appropriately, and one of his comments about solitude is poetry:

Somewhere we know that without a lonely place our lives are in danger. Somewhere we know that without silence words lose their meaning, that without listening speaking no longer heals, that without distance closeness cannot cure. Somewhere we know that without a lonely place our actions quickly become empty gestures.

I wonder if all the times as a kid that my mom would tell me "I think you might be just talking to fill the air" or my teachers would comment on my report card "Stephanie is a sweet student - she just needs to learn to talk to her neighbor less" would have been easily remedied by this Henri Nouwen quote. I feel like even as a 4-10 year old, I would have somewhat understood his words to make so much sense. Maybe not. 

The moments I have to myself are redemptive. It doesn't have to be at home on my living room couch. Some of my most enjoyable solitary moments have been traveling alone, hiking alone, running alone.

However, Philip just left for Knoxville for the weekend. I don't leave till Thursday night, so I'm not particularly needing alone time. I made chocolate chip banana scones. Come join me in devouring. I already had two. My door is always open...except when it's not. 

Here is my weekend in pictures. The cherry blossoms are just starting to open up their little buds. The cherry blossom kite festival was on the National Mall, so Mina and I ran down there (she got in the fountain at the Museum of the American Indian), and we met with Philip's school friends later. Sunday was Easter, and Philip and I had an amazing brunch with our upstairs neighbors, Kat and Erol. Have I ever mentioned that Kat is a gourmet chef? Any meal they invite us to is impossible to pass up. But hey. I made the fruit salad: