baby, it's cold outside

new christmas martini i made this evening, which i will make for my fambly on christmas day:

2 oz ketel one vodka

1 oz creme de cacao

1 oz strong coffee, dash of cream, cooled

1 small spoonful of ben and jerry's "cinnanmon buns" ice cream

generous dash of nutmeg.... and voila!

you have my new creation, which i have taken to referring to the "Snow Flurry." I am still thinking about the name, though....

So wait. Having a glass of wine at 2 in the afternoon makes me a decadent lady of leisure and not a booze-hound, right?

letter from grandma emy

On stationary I gave her on a visit to Michigan over Thanksgiving, Grandma Emy sent a letter (which Aunt Eileen transcribed for her).  She is 92. [CC is noah's father, courtney.]

the letter reads:

"CC my first and only son; Noah my first and old grandson, with wife Kate;  my first and only stroke and for that reason I cry emotionally. it is lightly raining outside, no snow. i am so glad you were here for Thanksgiving. 

I cried this morning as I have told my sister Evelyn to accept Christ as her God so we will be in heaven together; she said no. 

 Thank you both, that I will truly see you in heaven. My hope is in there. I will see but may leave this earth sometime soon.          Love, Grandma Emy"

she has so much beauty in there.

thanksgiving holiday.

just returned from michigan. 

at thanksgiving dinner we held hands with noah's family and sang the doxology, and noah's 92-year-old grandma wept. [praise god from whom all blessing flow/ praise him all creatures here below/ praise him above ye heavenly hosts/ praise father son and holy ghost/ aaaammmen.]

it made my heart hurt, with gratitude.

later on thanksgiving evening we drove three hours to gladwin, to stay in the house where noah was raised and where his mother and sister still live. I made Evidence flashcards and talked to linda, and noah drank beers outside in the snow with mackenzie and built a magnificent snow-bot. 

the next day we took sleds from the garage and went down "the big hill." i drank way too much coffee, and helped linda make her pot-roast lunch. 

oh. this one, short life. 

i, in the tradition of holden caulfield, really hate phonies.  and yes, i am thinking of one in particular...

today noah and i met some friends in christopher columbus park and played football. the park borders the harbor, but is surrounded by city buildings. 

i haven't played football in years, since high school youth group meetings, but it was really fun. the day was windy and cold, with puddles everywhere. we made a mess of it but i felt very alive and happy and connected.

 you know how sometime that happens? when everything collides and you feel satisfied?

tonight i am going to drive down to bridgewater. i plan to watch home design programs with my  mom, and drink red wine in bed. 

doesn't that sound excellent?

clearly, i will spill some wine on the sheets. and anytime another person uses the sheets, they will wonder what that stain is from. 

I can't go any longer without writing! I am forgetting the entire purpose: to stay creative, to be purposeful in my days and look for things worth talking about.

Well, now there is not much to say, despite my desire for creativity. but i am excited that winter is on the bend: exited for new scarves, mittens, and hats. also making christmas cards (i have a brand new glue gun). and also all the special holiday beverages.

A few days ago I was walking in government center and saw the white pigeon. always creeps me out and makes me think something big is coming...

Trash Diving

i woke up this morning when tyler called at 7:45. There was an overstuffed chair on the side of Salem Street across from the beanstock cafe, and he wanted to take it to his apartment. 

We carried it up the street together, pausing every block or so... the chair is so cumbersome and large it was hard to keep a good grasp. [Plus it turns out I am not as strong as I supposed.] People commented on how comfortable it looked. 

We drank coffee in his living room and had a long meandering conversation that took us down many paths, and went to Theo's Diner for breakfast. As we sat down, the waitress asked us if carrying the chair went alright. She had watched us through the window. 

Feels like fall today, crisp and clear. too cool for sandals. 

The Bark Burner

 ...at the Oregon Extension. man... I still miss that place. for many months, it felt like i was living my best life. 

I used to smoke cigarettes with my friend jon berger and have our young philosophical talks, about ayn rand and the like. wearing a red llbean fleece and a bandana, with long tangled hair (on both of us). I also went to a memorial service held on the inside of the bark burner, standing in a silent circle one year after September 11, 2001.

walden

I went to walden pond today for the first time. the leaves are beginining to change and I walked the edge of the water with mike and mags and felt really, really nice. 

daily plans.

today i will spend alone.  every now and again its good to be quiet with myself. still looking for balance this second year.

what i want to do is get some apple cider and drink it warm, after coming in from a game of touch football on the greenway with all the friends around. i love shit like that.

 but instead? the agenda is reorganize closet, begin outline for corporations, and write overdue letter. drink coffee and eat a sandwich for lunch. go running before the rain comes. oooooh, and take a nap.

from our anniversary

mid september

the smell of cut grass was in the air tonight, by the greenway. we walked to an italian restaurant, a favorite, and shared a bottle of red wine. maggie's brother was visiting from ohio.

he picked up the tab, saying, "it's on me."

tomorrow   i interview with a law firm, expecting nothing to come of it. and then i get on a plane to chicago to go to sara corbett's wedding.  these friends i esteem as the people i will know in my bones forever.

lately i have been lonely, so aware how quickly communities fracture. it will be nice to be surrounded again. 

bird on a wire

must say: i have everything i need. hopefully i can remember this when i feel otherwise.

today was lovely outside. bright and warm, with a soft breeze. i traded jokes on boston common with two friends--mikey and kevin--and avoided doing my first assignments for this, my second year of law school. 

when i am old and gray (and nodding by the fire)...

this past weekend will go down in my chronicles as one of the best. 

almost ten years later, i have friends that are as close as family, with whom it feels like home. 

that is some spectacular luck and good fortune.

and now, a few hours after my friends have repacked their bags and loaded the car to travel across the small New England states until they find Pennsylvania, I am reheating the enchilades we made last night and contemplating a mojito. 

Noah is reading a book while I klog, but have little to say besides: I am so grateful.

lists

i love making lists, and especially lists about things i plan to do for life-improvement purposes. the  contents of my lists generally include things that i already do but hope to do more of

(running, cooking, writing letters to friends, reading poetry) and things i don't do but harbor intentions of beginning (taking part in exercise classes at my gym, traveling more frequently, spending time in deliberate solitude). 

the good thing about these lists is it allows for a good deal of egotistical self-examination--of which i am a master--that in theory leads to a more balanced life.

and then every once in a while this process reveals to me my own darkness. bad motivations or  disingenuiness. that is a always unsettling.

i have been trying to finish a short story but the words and plot keep stalling on me.

last night in the south end

i sat on a bench with one of my oldest friends and his new love and drank a sparkling water. he had coffee. 

there is something so powerful about knowing and understanding someone in your bones

 and feeling that in return.

eldad when you come home we will take you out for a night on the town. it will be magical. 

(in response to sugar mags and mikey's talk of missing you.)

going to the maine house for a while. 

here is a photo matt lowe took up there a few weeks ago.  that is tyler on the rocks.

also

my husband has the sweetest kissing lips

fortune

On the 4th Meg and I went out for Chinese food and this was what my fortune cookie had to say:

"You are the man of righteousness and integrity."

Then we ran like maniacs to the esplanade, slightly drunk and happy. Somehow I lost my money and lipgloss though, as we ran past the crowd.

believe in abundance.

change is good. change is good. change is good. 

[convincing myself]

improvements

so, day one of pulling myself out of this small slump is underway.

I went for a long, hard run through the north end, over the little wire bridge, and into charlestown. it was my first run in about two weeks, so i wore my leg brace. no problems!

also, have been on a virgin bloody mary kick. in fact i am enjoying one right now. i like it heavy on the horseradish and prefer to use V8 with extra calcium. 

and  began writing a short story. the goal: completed copy by summer's end, rough draft by mid-july.

all day i have wanted to step out of myself. 

sick of my voice, thoughts, clothes, life. sick of my habits and the intonations when i speak. certainly sick of my hair and my stupid side swept bangs. sick of my feelings most all, they are so tiresome.  in some ways wish i could start again, or fade away, or something.

i am being tremendously ungrateful. but today, can't shake it. 

sign of things to come

today, i found myself leafing through the kids section of a j.crew catalogue and picking out the children who might look like a blend of me and noah.

is this a sign i am approaching thirty?

incidentally, we have a sweet-faced blonde girl and a sandy haired little boy with a shy smile.

monday

tonight i am bored but drinking a glass of red wine while noah listens to baseball on the radio. he is whistling while he makes lunches for tomorrow.

from the open window in our apartment i can smell the asphalt after the rain storm. there was thunder too, but no lightening. 

sunday, sunday

warm and bright in boston! on my third cup of coffee and taking a break from reading the Sunday paper. 

good news: this summer has been a spectacular time so far with friends and family, my ankle is healed [almost] from when i sprained it, i discovered how to make a new chick-pea salad. 

bad news: noah spilt a beer on his computer and we need to buy a new one, gas is super expensive, and i spend too much money.

tomorrow i am playing softball on the ADA interns team, against the interns of the law firm Ropes and Gray. here's hoping i hit a ball out of the park. or at least hit one. 

on the drive to maine dave the man (my little bro) sat in the backseat and carved out a poem from a new york times article .

dave's poem

 

It always

begins at noon

with brisk salutes

of mustachioed horse-men in three-piece suits.

Let others

spend lazy summer afternoons at 

revered sporting events

"We don't live," said

a 51-year old

who

is the United States.

today i do not need to be at court until 11, and I am working in Boston and not Worcester. and then i take lunch with matt lowe at 12:30 at the food expo on the waterfront by the courthouse. 

so far: the fixings for a good, simple day.

observations

so when i walk into the federal courthouse two very large photographs greet me: President Bush and Vice President Cheney, each posing in front of a majestic American flag. 

Bush looks pleased with himself and amiable, like he just came in from a day on the Crawford ranch and would like to have a margarita and grill up some BBQ ribs. Cheney, on the other hand, has this maniacal smugness on his face. Like he knows that YOU know he has evil in his core, and finds this knowledge delightful. 

Also, as the drive to the courthouse involves numerous toll booths, i have been wondering: how do those people get into their little boxes? where do they park their cars?  is that job fun? I have come to the conclusion it is, like garbage collecting, the secret best government job.

updates

today was my first day at my internship. I was late; I got very lost in Worcester and surrounding towns. I got  a tour of the courthouse and met all the people that make it run, and set up shop in an office with the other two interns (including Amy-Right-Way!). 

i have been cooking like crazy lately. mostly quiches. but also risottos and soups and apple crisps with roasted pecans. mmmm. has my cooking gene been reactivated? here is hoping!

also, i saw rob lowe eating a cannoli at mike's pastries today. he was just as darling as he appeared in st. elmo's fire.

been alone alot lately. VERY hard for me. but also sort of nice.

i have been ravenously reading  Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri.

I can't put it down. everything she writes is lyrical and fluid. she reminds me of gabriel garcia marquez or milan kundera.... bur more modern and accessible than both. 

this book is filling these early summer days and making me quite happy.

this is the first sentence to the first short story: "After her mother's death, Ruma's father retired from the pharmaceutical company where he had worked for many decades and began traveling in Europe, a continent he'd never seen. " 

She has the gift of making a reader want to learn more, to follow her wherever the story leads. 

exactly my sentiments.

..."I am tired of being a skeptic, I'm irritated by spiritual prudence and I feel bored and parched by empirical debate. I don't want to hear it anymore. I couldn't care less about evidence and proof and assurances. I just want God. I want God inside me. I want God to play in my bloodstream the way sunlight amuses itself on water."--Elizabeth Gilbert

lesson learned:

do not enter sex shop if you do not wish to talk about your clitoris.

the fifty year old woman with an arm of tattoos hands me a small pink contraption. "You will love it," she says. this is after she directed me towards the book "A Straight Chicks guide to Girls."

It is a collapsing U-shape. and neon pink. with one end covered in rubber bristles. the box says it is discrete and petite. there is a motor somewhere, but i can't tell where. it seems unclear exactly how a person would use this toy.

She seems to sense my bafflement, and says "This part goes in your vaginal cavity. This tip rests on your clitoris. It goes a million miles a minute...you will be in ecstasy."

"oh," i say.

She starts restocking vibrators on the shelves, of all shapes and sizes and dimensions. "Alot of happy lesbians this weekend!" she laughs. "Look at our inventory. We got raped!"

I am not sure how to acknowledge this statement, but would like to recover to my earlier meek response, so i say: "You know it!"

She turns again to me, takes the toy from me and looks me in the eyes. "If you buy this, you won't regret it." The heavy-set bulldog wandering in the store with the leopard print bandana comes and rests beside her.

I tell her I am thinking about it, and retreat.

I am clearly too puritanical to be cool or collected in sex shops.

as we leave, she begins a joke to another customer: "You know the difference between a bitch and a butch?"

vacation.

my last final has been taken! we will see what all this means when the dust settles. for now, my first year of law school is finished, which is a stunning thought.

and i am going to provincetown to a bed and breakfast. i plan on drinking red wine in the jacuzzi and watching home design shows. also eating oysters and taking at least long walk alone. writing lindsey a long overdue letter. a massage, a pedicure, a facial. whatever i want!


try to relax. hard to do when you have been wound up so long! but so nice to have relaxing as an assignment.

look. everyone knows cute animals make them happy. I, for one, am not ashamed to say. go to www.cuteoverload.com. of particular note is the video of the black lab nursing a litter of abandoned kittens.

gets me every time.

new day.

time to remove the contracts flowchart from its place of prestige and power underneath my white board.

tomorrow, civil procedure will be slowly graphed like a spider web over a brand new posterboard. coffee will be consumed in excess, frantic emails sent to Professor Blum seeking enlightenment, and many, many snacks will be eaten. probably i will need to take a walk at some point, which tyler says was one of plato's learning methods: a walking school. walk and talk and learn.

goodbye material (or partial?) breach of contract , hello non-mutual collateral estoppel!

and then: who knows. Wednesday is the end of my first year of law school, which has meant many unexpected things to me. uncertain what that will feel like, but doubtful as good as i hope.

"and if indeed you would know my worth it is that i have more in my heart than upon my tongue, and more in my desire than my hand." -khahil gibran

bright spots

To begin: admittedly, today has been a pretty wretched, terrible day. almost all around.

a few bright spots though:

the old man i saw riding a bicycle and smoking a cigarette. he wore bright purple shorts. brave and reckless, a hard to resist combination.

also the weather was baffling and haunting... warm and wildly windy, like the hours after a hurricane.

talked to my best friend meghan.

the fountains by the green way have (at last) been turned on. the mist sprayed me as a i walked by.

amber gave me a cigarette, which was really awesome.

glass of red wine just now. soooo deserved.

may

i had a teacher once who told me to believe in abundance.

trying to do that.

wet rat kitten

These are pictures I found of Ophelia when she was a tiny kitten. she was mangy and soooo little. look at her next to my hand!

dreaming mid-finals.

oh man i can't wait to read a book this summer. many many books.

law school is the first time in my life i haven't had a books on the side.

some options:

re-read an old love. brother's karamazov or duncan's brother k? finish a hundred years of solitude? that new book by jhumpa lahiri that meg loves?

should i get the best short fiction of the past year. i love anthologies. full of possibilities.

or: should i go and pick the first book it seems like i will fall in love with? after finals, find a bookstore and buy first book that gets my attention.

or consult the new york times best seller list? what are other people reading, and why? oprah knows! i will check out her opinion.

maybe read a book that ties this last year together for me. Something on the supreme court, or the relevance of law in society.

suggestions welcome.

fun with photo booth!

property law

today was my last property class as a first year law student. Professor Barry Brown (known affectionately to the students of 1A as B. Brown or BB) said goodbye, and told us to keep aspiring to help this broken world with our law degrees.

to keep focused on the goal of helping construct decent lives for others and ourselves... believing in justice and equity and fairness as guiding principles for a society to flourish.

to realize that nothing is fixed and certain, not really. the law is fluid and constructed, and will adapt when required and someone has the clarity to say so.

he told us to keep our creative spirits. to make sure we question the validity of old laws and utility of new ones.

before class i had coffee with tyler and we spoke of many things, but mostly about how hard it has been to nurture the other sides of ourselves in law school... creative, spiritual, philosophical sides.

BB's closing to this monumental year was moving and appropriate. just what i needed, anyhow. So thank you, Professor.

marriage

so one of the more surprising things about being married is seeing yourself through the eyes of your spouse:

When I wake up from a nap, i immediately get up and eat something. preferably sweet, which is the only time I have an exception to my general rule disfavoring deserts. if not sweet, then salty, like tortilla chips. mmmmm.

i can tell if noah is going to be in a good or sour mood based on which coffee mug he selects in the morning.

I am more committed to routine and schedule than I thought. I wake up always directly before noah leaves. I smell his cologne as he hovers over, telling me his plan for the day or asking when i want to wake up. (he sets my alarm. not even sure how to do it.) I wake up and roll over to his side of the bed and sleep an extra hour.

i brush my teeth with warm water. never thought about until noah pointed it out. i do this because dishes are washed with warm water to make them more clean... why not teeth?

tuesday

sometimes, I worry I am not doing a good job.

I really really want to be honest, gracious, generous, courageous.
a kind, funny friend, acute observer, consistent wife, creative and loving. i want to leave something behind. I want to see God. I want to do the best with what I have. I want to live the questions. I want to give good advice, good kisses. I want to be connected. I also want to learn about being alone, and living a bit in silence.

but in my every day life, in the moment, it is impossible to always know that my behavior aligns with these principles... sometime I think "I am standing up for myself!" only to realize later I was being a brat, and short-sighted.

I still wrestle with shame.



p.s. the "biggest loser" is heart warming. despite myself, i love it.

long time no klog!

Today, I had such an unyielding headache that I had to pray for a little mercy.

It was in the front of my skull, and so intense I wanted to throw up and step out of my skin, like a pair of dirty pajamas. I roamed back and forth in my very small apartment, and ended up laying down on the floor, placing my cheek on the cold planks.

but then i fell asleep and woke up and restored! no headache. phew. God is good. and also modern medicine.

It is almost spring-like weather in Boston and that has everyone feeling a bit crazy in anticipation. I am looking forward to the baby green leaves that will come back on trees, and also the Boston Garden as it starts to bloom.

spring also means finals are approaching.... the end of my first epic year of law school draws near.

spring break so far:

monday: wake up late (10 am) and paint nails bright red. drink coffee out of the mug bought on our honeymoon in mexico. watch LOST, read blogs about LOST. Apply mudmask. nap. write a few Torts notecards on Res Ispa Loquitor. Drive to Gloucester and drink wine with Sarah in her kitchen. Marvel at all the home improvements since I was last there. Eat dinner with Alyssa and TJ. Go to Old Timer's Tavern and play pool. Sing Journey (Don't Stop Believing), and congratulate ourselves for bringing the house down. stay up past 3 AM with Syssa, discuss everything you can think of. end by arguing for Hilary Clinton as President.

tues: wake up late. go to lunch with alyssa, drink champagne. send your food back, but make nice with the server. go to a used bookstore (dogtown) and buy a collection of stories by lori moore (birds of america) and an erotic novel by anais nin (delta of venus). walk down the streets of my old town. run errands: get glasses tightened, buy fancy chocolates, do banking. go home bearing gifts. nap.

wed: wake up early. take T with noah to the Isabella Stewart Gardner museum, feel overwhelmed and peaceful. see the movie Juno and also feel moved, despite the (almost) annoying hipster elements. find the sweetness pleasing. determine to find more opportunity to use the word "bitchin" in daily dialogue. go to legal seafoods, order more food than can be eaten. walk home in the misty rain, consider how the word "misty" is silly and girlish, reminiscent of when I would pretend to be a monkey in the circus with my girlfriend and call myself either misty or trixie. watch law and order for two hours, write this blog. go to bed.

Poem

"Thirst" by Mary Oliver

Another morning and I wake with thirst
for the goodness I do not have. I walk
out to the pond and all the way God has
given us such beautiful lessons. Oh Lord,
I was never a quick scholar but sulked
and hunched over my books past the
hour and the bell; grant me, in your
mercy, a little more time. Love for the
earth and love for you are having such a
long conversation in my heart. Who
knows what will finally happen or
where I will be sent, yet already I have
given a great many things away, expect-
ing to be told to pack nothing, except the
prayers which, with this thirst, I am
slowly learning.

Speaking of Faith

A few weeks ago Noah and I drove to the South Shore to visit my parents and happened to hear a celtic poet by the name of John O'Donahue on the radio. It was a beautiful bright day and we listened in silence for the entire hour. I downloaded the conversation to IPOD and have listened a few times... for those of few from the OE, it reminded me of Doug Frank both in tone and content, which is admittedly a striking part of the appeal. The interview is titled "The Inner Landscape of Beauty"... the interview helped root me back to things that I believe in, refocusing my direction. So easy to get bogged down by the wrong things in this busy world.


Since I have enjoyed it I thought others might too... you can listen or download it here:

http://speakingoffaith.publicradio.org/programs/john_odonahue/index.shtml

my cat, the narcissist.

When I hold Ophelia in my arms and show her our reflection in the bathroom mirror, she purrs like a lawnmower.

thanks eldad.

last night my friend eldad said that i was a woman of "salt and texture."

in the light of this cold march morning, i think that might be one of the nicer compliments of my lifetime.

The birds are making a racket outside my window.

nostalgia

today, I miss the salt sea air in my Gloucester apartment. the cool wood floors, in the summer sprinkled with beach sand. the red dining room where we broke bread with friends.

I believe I will be able to remember the smell of the Atlantic in Gloucester harbor even when i am an old, unfolding woman. That I will almost be able to taste it.

important development

I think we have concluded:

we want to have kids someday! I never knew if I wanted to be a mom. And it still weirds me out a bit, but someday noah and i will make actual babies. part of me and part of him. part of God.

and then something all together new.

ophie

noah has trained our cat, ophelia, to meow for a treat whenever he is in the kitchen. it has a nice rhythm, their process. he goes into the kitchen, she jumps on her chair and leans towards him, perched, and meows. he slips her a treat, she devours it. but now she won't stop asking. and i worry the treats aren't doing her any favors in the weight department. the belly on her small frame seems swollen with treats.

snow day

Friday night, and sitting at my kitchen table. the same spot as that photo in the entry below. I opened some wine, and Noah just came home in a playful mood, bearing gifts like toilet paper and new sponges from Target.

hopefully he will take me to dinner, and we will talk over some sushi. i will put my boots on and we will traverse through the city snow.

Apartment in the North End. Noah took this photo from his desk. I think I am studying.


Nope... on closer inspection I am talking on the phone.

To whom?

Empire Records

Remember that movie? Being 13 or so.... wanting Liv Tyler's outfit or Renee Zelwigger's brazen sexuality. Cool friends and a cool job. Aching for the boy--with the hair in his eyes and slouchy sweater--to fall in love with me.

Empire Records was how I dreamed of 17.

sundays, part 2

tomorrow morning i am making blueberry and walnut pancakes. how about that!

Sundays

...are the best day of the week, minus my guilt for always skipping church. Sometimes I read the Bible, sometimes I read some poetry, sometimes I try and write some. usually i read the boston sunday globe and skip most everything until i find the Ideas section. It only comes on Sunday and is always full of promise, like I will read something that will fill me with a whole new direction. brand new wonderings and insight. usually this does not happen, but you never stop hoping.

actually most sundays i wake up at 9 hungover and put on dirty jeans. trudge the same route i always take to school. listen to my ipod, lately josh ritter or older loves, like patty griffin. i love patty griffin. she has a gritty hard voice.

my dad is a pastor. he spoke at a church in arlington and afterwards called to say "can i come and have a cannoli with you?"


we sat at cafe victoria on hanover street and talked about the red sox spring training, and how he--a republican!--voted for obama.

Nana Parsons

Nana P is 89. She recently told noah and me that football is why she "keeps on ticking" and that she "lives for the patriots." she has a closetful of patriots sportswear, and the only ornaments she put on her small fake christmas tree this year were Pats ornaments. (small plastic footballs with santa hats, and so on.) she might love the patriots more than anyone i know.

I have never known my Nana to write poetry... but i suppose in times of great sorrow, it can help a person cope. she wrote this on sunday night and gave it to my mom.

"Ode to the Patriots"
by Betty Parsons


oh that a dream so sweet, so long enjoyed
should be so cruelly, so sadly destroyed

time. is on our side?

it is febuary in 2008 and i live in boston. i walk to school everyday and listen to my ipod or talk to papa on my cell phone. i spill coffee on my mittens.

this time last year i was a restless bartender living in gloucester. i took walks on the beach with sarah and her dog remi, and drank martinis and watched soap operas and worked late nights making other people happy.

three years before i was living in bridgewater, stir crazy with my parents and engaged. noah and i took dance lessons for our wedding and fought like cats and dogs.

the previous year i lived in a shoebox apartment with tina, sam and missy. titi and i had no windows in our bedroom and on saturdays when we didn't have to waitress could sleep until noon because time meant nothing without sunlight.

and before that, in a cabin in oregon. which changed my life in most every way. i had a hoop nose ring and ran naked in the woods with a group of women. learned to love reading poetry outloud.

and in 2001, spent most of my time at 609 wingert drive, with my boyfriend and college friends. i was there on September 11, after chapel, which is where i first saw the footage of the second plane hit. in the boyfriend's arms as we watched people jump. and the footage of the tower falling.

and the year before that, meghan was my roommate on naugle 3. we locked the door and listened to the cars or elton john and danced like wild. we fought like crazy, too. screamed at the top of our lungs.

the year before that i lived with a really conservative mennonite girl, with the hair covering and everything. she used to read me excerpts of her christian romance novels aloud and i would fall alseep to the sounds.

recipe

so, i discovered this evening the best omelet ever, born out of necessity: no food, hungry kate, sparse ingredients.

ready? here goes.

4 eggs, with a splash of 2% milk.
four kalamata olives, sliced and diced.
two slices of deli honey backed ham.
6 shots of franks red hot sauce. (not too hot, i promise.)
several twist of the pepper mill,
a dash of kosher salt.
"mexican style" shredded cheese.


it is utter perfection.

parol evidence rule

Sitting in the law library, with a wall of windows to my right. Overlooking the steeple of the Park Street church and the Boston Common. The Prudential in the distance and the gold dome of the statehouse reflecting sharp sunlight. Reading contract law... how deals are done and undone.

hungry. quiet. smudges on the lens of my glasses. but what is new anyhow.

"All the pieces matter"

So. While my readerships is slight.... it must be said: The Wire needs to be watched.

it is epic in scope... with small, real characters that add up to the whole; season 1 you meet drug dealers and the cops trying to build a case. season 4 you see the kids of the folks in season 1. politics, money, codes, personal morales, and government offices all interplay, making a real world mess with hope fringing on the sides. T

"the wire" is stark and stunning. precise in writing, darkly apt in character formation. watch it. commit to two episodes of the first season, and you won't stop.

Redeemed where I now stand.

First, some background: I was studying and falling in love in the Oregon mountains. My Professor Jim Titus--whose wife died of cancer a few years before, and who still spoke of her through tears--read this poem aloud one morning with an old coffee cup in his hand. His pain was still palpable and I had heart to feel it in those months.

It was fall and the leaves were turning; I had just turned 21 and left my boyfriend. In a different time zone and totally alone, unaccountable. Free for the first time of the roles resting on my shoulders.

I grew up in an evangelical world, where shame and fear were driving forces. This poem liberated me; I know it almost by heart, like the Lord's Prayer or the Nicene Creed.

Hope I do not infringe on her copyright.


"Wild Geese "
by Mary Oliver


You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to legt the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting----
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

things that are yuck

I have determined

that the grossest smell that I know of is a sponge. sitting in a kitchen sink with food particles and water.


soooooo gross.


although also gross: the other day my friend was over and I told him to drink some cranberry juice. There were giant loafs of mold swimming around.

What a bad hostess!

stolen

It is Sunday morning and very cold outside. I walked to school to get some books and the streets were desolate, which I enjoyed because I could sing the songs playing on Noah's ipod with abandon. I always want to sing the songs.

On Friday my bag was stolen, with several important things inside like my laptop. My friend Margaret's coat was on top, and they took that also.

Nothing of mine has ever been stolen before. It is so invasive, so unkind. Things that matter to me and not to them. Photos of my family at Christmas, of my friends celebrating this summer Fiesta in Gloucester. Many briefs of cases and notes from law classes. Short stories I have been writing. Also: the purse my best friend Meg gave me as a gift. My favorite lipgloss and mascara. All of my identification. My IPOD.

So the thieves really hurt my feelings.

But, strangely, there was some lovely moments that followed: margaret and I sat in the suffolk law lobby, and our friends pulled up chairs and helped us file police reports. they hugged and shared cigarettes. mikey marshall bought french fries at burger king and we ate them with barbeque sauce, family style. he also got me a gigantic diet coke, which i have been abstaining from.

So I didn't feel so alone. and all in all, it was the best sort of way to have important things stolen.

this is a picture of my good friend lindsey's little girl. it always makes me happy.

i realized while a bit drunk last night that the closer I am to someone--the more intimate and emotional our relationship is--the less I touch them. The only exception to this rule is a few relationships that I began by being affectionate--that is to say, not close--that grew more connected over time. I wonder why. Meg seems to think I am cold-hearted and viciously independent. [I disagree.]