thankful thursday #195

Thankful to open this new stadium expansion in 48 hours.

The (endless) season of planning is (finally) coming to a close, so let's get the real season started already, shall we?

Anyone else excited about college football? Go on, be grateful!

this moment in rome i can't forget

It was early on this day in Rome.

We'd caught the Metro around 7:00 that morning in order to arrive at the San Pietro station by 7:30, hopeful to secure a chair in St. Peter's Square for the papal blessing at 10:30.

The crowd was a given; 80-some-odd thousand people were expected to be battling for a spot. As we emerged above ground from the Metro station, that very crowd practically carried us to the square, as if we were a raft in their waters.

Hidden in the mass of tourists were the locals, navigating their morning routines. Men in suits, holding a briefcase in one hand and coffee in the other. Shop owners switching their door signs from Closed to Open. Moms walking their uniformed children to school.

Homeless nomads, tucked under blankets on door stoops and sleeping soundly amongst the morning bustle.

We walked briskly and with purpose, but then this.

An older gentleman walked toward us, just as briskly and with just as much purpose, apparently heading to work for the day. One of those locals, doing what I suspected was his everyday normal.

Seemingly by second nature, that man leaned down mid-stride toward another still peacefully sleeping on one of those door stoops, and laid at his head a paper bag filled with breakfast.

In a matter of seconds, I hoped it was a fresh-baked pastry, topped with some of the most delightfully sweet sugar. Or a buttery, flaky croissant that was still hot with steam.

In another second, I wondered what that man lying on the ground would think when he finally awoke.

And in the next second, because this servant expressed goodwill so naturally, I believed this was his ordinary. I believed this was as much a part of his routine as grabbing his briefcase on the way out the door.

It was one of the most beautiful acts of service I've ever seen, because it was executed in front of thousands of people, yet without fanfare or attention. That man never made eye contact with a soul, because he cared nothing for honor or glory.

I think my breath caught in my throat I was so touched.

This man. This kindness. This ordinary.

These are the red-letter moments, people. Make them happen.

baron fig

Of late, I've been on a mad hunt for the perfect to-do-list-holder and note-taker. I was hankering for a "planner" that gives me some flexibility, but that has plenty of pages for meeting notes, random ideas, and sporadic jots.

No pre-made calendar pages or ruled paper inserts would do.

Here were the preferred criteria:

1. Dimensions around 8" x 5"
2. An elastic strap closure
3. Blank paper (i.e., no lines, no dots, no grids)
4. Smooth and stately paper
5. Visually beautiful

I was close to going with a Moleskine, like this ...

... but frankly, I didn't want to be like everyone else. And that guy's kinda stuffy, I think.

And then my research yielded something else that intrigued me, something different and classy: the Baron Fig Confidant.

Here's how he stacked up to my wish list:

Dimensions are 7.5" x 5.25". I quite like that it's a little wider than the 5"-wide Moleskine.

It comes with blank, lined, or dotted paper. And that blank paper, oh, it is fine. Smooth and ivory.

It only comes in one color, and if it were black, I'd not have tolerated it. But it's this very chic silverish-grayish-pewterish linen, which I believe whispers, "I'm unique."

There is no elastic closure, which was a definite con, and a criterion I wasn't sure I could compromise.

But this sealed the deal for me:

It opens flat. FLAT. No flipping.

So at a very reasonable $16, I decided he was worth a shot, and so far, I'm glad I did.

If you're in the market for a journal of any sort, give Baron Fig a chance.

If nothing else, you'll feel very hip for trying it out.