yardstick

Throughout my life I've been told that I'm;

Too serious.

Too sensitive.

Too cold.

Too irreverent.

Too uptight.

Cry too easily.

Too honest.

Too closed off.

Too afraid.

Too broken.

Too healed.

What yardstick is being used to measure me?

Did anyone ask for my measurements?

pb&j picnic

Sometimes on hot days mom would take us to the pool. In Iowa we didn't romantically call summer days "sultry" they were called "humid" in plain, Midwestern English.

In the icebox of the air conditioned house mom would pack up some squishy pb&j sandwiches, baby carrots - looking like creepy, wet, orange baby fingers, and a bag of neon Cheetos, or Pringles. Cheetoes were my favorite. 

I'd put on my bright shorts that looked like bicycle shorts and a colorful shirt over my swimming suit and we would all get in the massive blue van. The blue van was more like a house on wheels than an actual vehicle. There was even a TV and VCR inside! But we weren't allowed to use them unless our trip was two hours or longer.

Arriving in Monticello we'd lay down an old, worn blanket and picnic in the park next to the pool. After eating we'd play in the park for awhile because we observed the classic rule to avoid the Bends. There were some great wooden structures of playground equipment and I remember a large swing like you would find on a Victorian Veranda. I think we fit six kids on it once.

Once danger had passed we entered the dungeon-like locker/bathrooms assigned by gender and passed through to the pool.

Aquamarine aqua. Is there anything more beautiful on a humid Iowa day?

I stripped down to my chic green and blue two piece. Jumped in with my siblings and we felt great. 

GIRLS

"Let's have the type of night where it's, like, 5 a.m. and one of us has definitely punched someone who's been on a Disney Channel show." -Elijah

yeah.

I never expected that to happen to us.

imposition

Compelled to wander.

Don't settle here.

Permanence; the illusion we protect.

Fiercely.

Home is only made of concrete.

Home is not concrete.

What am I looking for?

The last goodbye.

A prized possession.

So sweet upon pink lips. 

academia

Starting school in August is comforting to me. It feels like a worn quilt; softened with age and love. A patchwork quilt for wrapping up by campfires or next to a lamp for late night reading. Familiarity. I belong in academia.

The beginning of school has always heralded my favorite part of the year; crisp, cozy, spicy fall! That's part of what gets me excited. The other part is the indulgence, the privilege of learning. I've wanted to return to school and finish my degree for years. It's strange to finally be here doing what I've hoped to.

I do miss the bustle of being on campus. Helping freshmen figure things out, greeting old friends and  planning adventures. That may return one day. But for now I'll sit here happily surrounded by books, papers and cats - barely believing I'm not dreaming.

dry

I'm using this dry shampoo today. I feel suspicious about dry shampoo just as I do about dry cleaning. As Jerry Seinfeld says, "The problem with dry cleaning is that we all believe that this is actually happening."

According to my new hair stylist I have basically spent my life abusing my hair between washing it everyday, using Tresemmé products since college, braiding it when wet and probably proving remiss in my duty to educate it culturally. So I'm trying to make up for lost time. (And bad parenting?)

But I miss the fresh scalp feeling... I cannot deny that my hair looks better but at what cost to my fragile psyche?

It's only day two...

Can you say #firstworldproblems ?

How often do you wash your hair? Do you use and like dry shampoo? If it wasn't obvious yet I'll point out that I'm not exactly into hair... Educate me.

rinse & repeat

That foolish trickster Hope.

He lures from around the corner. Enticing with baubles tied to a string

You want happiness don't you? Look how sparkly it is? Come and get it.

Held in the hand happiness is warm like a kitten. You cover it to keep it safe. To prolong it's life.

Memorizing street names and stories. Faces become familiar. Hope cracked the casing around my heart and months of root growth left me feeling strong. Roots will help you stand against the Wind.

But not tornadoes.

I see why people chase the baubles. I didn't know life could feel good. I thought that was a rumor.

But patterns are called patterns because they do not change.

3 steps forward. 15 steps back, Thrown back, head cracking against the wall.

Remember;

Pass by the pills. Don't look the bottles in the eye. Not everything has to be the same as it was before.

pants free

Sometimes you just can't be bothered to put pants on. Is pantslessness really as terrible as we act like it is? So indecent? So offensive? We all have a body, most of our bodies look pretty similar. We have the same parts.

I'm feeling lazy today - just let me check my mailbox judgement free; pants free.

a night with the shins

Wearing yoga pants we got in the car and I drove barefoot. Destination; fireworks. A last minute decision. Marty McFly in the back of our minds soon swept aside by The Shins. Through open windows the night sucked away the lyrics so fast that they barely had time to kiss our ears. No one else was kissing us anyway.

We didn't talk.

Together we were holiday orphans. No hot dogs, sparklers, potato salad or outings requiring coolers. But we had our sense of humor. And some wine. Oklahoma isn't somewhere you really want to be in July but if your blonde best friend is in the passenger seat and you drive fast enough either the heat won't catch up or you just won't notice it.

We missed the fireworks so our purpose defaulted proverbially from the destination to the journey. The word journey conjures up a purpose but we were gypsies. I've often felt like a gypsy. Is it really so terrible not to belong somewhere specific? I prefer belonging to people instead of places.

pink shoulders & fish tacos

With the pink shoulders of a baby strawberry I reflect on an impromptu lunch in the sun. Small, soft tortillas heaped with bright lettuce, crispy bits of fish wink at you cheekily. I bet you can't wait to taste me.

Throwback music in the air and conversation with a throwback friend. Could the essence of happiness be distilled from moments like these? To be bottled up and sprinkled over gatherings not quite as lovely as ours? 

Trestle tables shared with strangers can bring new friends or the closer intimacy of two people together in a crowd. 

Watch. Listen. Taste. Talk.

A perfect Wednesday afternoon in a perfect place at the perfect time.

epidemic

How many broken hearts have you swept off the floor tonight?

The emotionally single moms, the mental widows with holes in their chests.

Their bodies are here but the souls are trying to escape.

Dissociation.

How many pills would it take? 

How long can I hold my breath?

Just a flick of the steering wheel in the right direction and I won't have to face him ever again.

Why do they lash themselves to us with no intention of love?

1, 2, 3, 4 - I could name half a dozen more.

What is this epidemic?

a saturday morning

Bits of dream still stick to my eyelids
While sun and shadow dapple homemade quilts.
Little paws demand attention
My commitment to unconsciousness wilts.

There's a lemon glow from my eastward window
Avian sun worshipers begin their daily chants.
Hardbacks, paperbacks are splayed to present points
Pull on those worn, plaid pajama pants.

resolute realism

I dislike Resolutions because blah blah blah... Anyway, I prefer yearly guidelines.  A loose list with no crushing guilt if things don't work out - because I'm trying to morph into a Type B personality over here. Also known as The Lazy Person's Resolutions (?). I prefer that we just call it realism.

• Travel, travel, travel
• Asking "why not?" instead of "why?". Adventures to hopefully ensue.
• Pursuing a degree I really care about instead of putting it off because it could literally take 10+ years to finish.
• 2015 is the year I will really dance. I LOVE to dance and I've always put it on the back burner but this is my year to cut all the rugs.
• Learn passable Italian (Refer back to #1... and so my sister and I can have secret conversations - though possibly hampered by the fact that most of our words will probably encompass food and toilets.)
• Write more things, even though you may never see them.
• Try to continue a 75% (ish) vegan diet because, why not?
• Become a Hugger (This may be the hardest one. Help me; Hug first because I'll probably forget...)
• And for the love of God; stop dropping my phone.

I never could have forecast all that happened in 2014, I'm looking forward to the same ambiguity from 2015.

pinprick

Out the window, in the grey, I see a twinkle.

The neighbor's light shines a hello.

A pinprick of fire.

Traveling across the fields, between the trees and through the fog.

This day feels lonely and cold, especially after my nightmares of the dark before.

You are not alone.

The light tells me.

Warmth, goodness and peace can still be yours.

A cardinal dressed in red dances through my twinkling reminder.

There are always bright spots in the darkest moments.

(Rescued from 12.03.11)

promises

gaping

I knew all of your small things.

Your shuffles. Your razor habits.

Your 80% cocoa preferences.

The greens and blues of your favorite plaid shirts.

Pauses while you searched each room for me.

Once you finished Gatsby in a tent.

Smiles. Toothbrushes. Shampoo bottles.

Hats we bought to perch on your head.

Nothing on earth is all light

Or dark.

Get in the car, let’s drive somewhere new.

nebraska nights - for Bonnie

Sunsets bring conversations
Deep like the bottomless night.
Two hearts and souls laid bare
Witnessed by a Sky Full of Stars.

Peppermint Schnapps & cocoa,
Black cat slinking into cold sunflowers.
Starting the goodbye months in advance
Didn't stave off the pain to come.

Black pens & lined paper
A homemade story baked fresh.
We examine how we got here
As the city sparkles in the giant's shadow.

Wiping our eyes on blankets
And catching our fogging breath.
Grafted hearts returned to chests
Mingled lives with no regrets.

interlude

Rain & Covers
A pair of curled up lovers

Snow & Wine
Everyone runs out of time

Mountain views
When you leave I won't feel used

12" x 12"

I watched as something I'd thought was sinful become sacred.

I've also seen sacred things turn black and die.

Grey seems to be the defining color in my life at the moment.

I've been governed by rules for as long as I can remember. At first they were implemented by my parents, then church, school and finally myself.

If rules could form cages I've lived in a 12" x 12" box of bars most of my life.

Because I chose to.

The door has never been locked. But I thought God would punish me if I ever crawled out.

People told me that He would. But if I understand even the simplest thing about Jesus, I don't think God wants me in a cage. If all of the Christians are in cages what good are we? Just an idealized exhibit.

What's the point of pretending to live in our cages in front of other Christian's? The illusion of control is potent.

It seems counterproductive to live your Abundant Life in a 12" x 12" cage.