Funny how the smallest of things can inspire.

For me, I put some of my nearest and dearest trinkets at eye-view on the window sill above my desk. I find it calming to have a tangible, three-dimensional object to focus the eye on when in thought. Of course, my items have the potential to make the mind wander: The sea urchin shell recalls a recent trip to Troncones, Mexico. The two dinosaur figurines have, a time or two, sent my mind reeling on extinction (no good), and the marbles take me back to attempting still lifes in art class. Yet as I stare once more at these items, I realize it’s more than what they represent to me… it’s how they look. The way the clear glass marbles catch the light coming through the window, the dinos’ bright colors, smooth lines and hysterical extremities (look at the left foot on the orange one!), and the urchin’s spiky texture—it’s as good as a lake view for me. What are your little things?

‘He said mysteries work that way. If you want to keep people interested, you can let them know only so much.’ The rest is enshrouded in the vast sunny stillness.

And so ends “American Stonehenge,” one of the most enthralling features I have read of late, on page 126 of Wired‘s special mystery issue (May 2009). Written by Randall Sullivan, the story details the Georgia Guidestones, what the dek claims “may be the most enigmatic monument in history.” Yowza! As a Georgia native, I had never even heard of the guidestones, which are located in Elberton, about an hour and a half east of my grandmother’s Braselton home. Built by an man in 1980 to seemingly instruct survivors of an apocolypse, the monument is part guide, part calendar, part clock and part compass. Yet the identity of the man is unknown, and the purpose of the guidestones unrevealed.

I am certainly intrigued, and can safely say that this issue has been one of my favorite Wired releases. From the mind-bending puzzles scattered throughout the issue to the explanation of the Donnie Darko plot on page 40, it’s all brilliant. Certainly, the quote from page 126 is right… there is something about mystery that captivates us. One thing’s for sure: On my trip to Georgia next month, I’m going to high-tail it over to see the granite wonder. Stay tuned for more mysteries revealed…

Yesterday, as I prepared to leave for my first day of mountain biking this season, Chris helped ready my bike, then loaded it into my car. As I pulled away, he stood there waving incessantly. “It’s like the first day of school,” he said. Indeed, it felt like the first day of school—the excitement, the slight tinge of butterfly in the stomach, the “do I have everything” anxiety.

First days are often the best and worst of days… everything is new, or new again. You’re fresh, you’re pumped, you’re ready. Yet you’re also perhaps naive, undertrained or ill-prepared. Lucky for me, my first mountain biking day was on the positive side. I didn’t crash or ruin my bike; I didn’t have an asthma attack or feel too out of shape. And despite being a little rusty (or just plain “not good” in the first place), I managed to learn a few things and have fun. Now that’s a first day to remember (rock climbing is another story).

Yes, that’s right. I am an official WordPress dork. I’ve bought my ticket to WordCamp San Francisco and will be convening with some experts in the blog biz on May 30. Look for some exciting post-camp changes to my site—I’m sure I’ll learn a fancy trick or two.

Check out the Mother’s Day cards Chris and I made for our mommies. Stamps + coffee made from a percolator = one creative evening… don’t you just love the fireflies made with the exclamation mark stamp?