pause.

our world is filled with gut-wrenching beauty. and each of us experiences it in different ways--some of us see it with our eyes, some with our hands, others with our words. this year, let's reflect on the amazing ways we are able to see beauty in our lives, instead of what we don't accept and what we think must change. happy new year, kids.

this is only five percent of my current thought load.

it is raining outside, and dark as though the day was turning into night rather than the other way around. i sit here at work, tying things up in preparation for being out next week, eating half of a blueberry muffin and pondering exactly how much motivation i will need not to fall asleep the moment i get home. i've exhausted myself this month, letting my passions drive me at work beyond all measures- writing, planning, running around shaking everyone's hands. and it seems to be paying off. we've received donations and cards galore and yesterday i went caroling at the hospital with a group of people that i didn't know, except, to find, i had met almost all of them in one capacity or another. i am a broken record of promotion. so i take a lot of naps. store up energy on the weekend.

although, in december, there's no extra time to do so.

this morning, my coworker gave me a plant, perfectly wrapped in crinkly red craft paper. it's called a creeping jew, which i find a very odd name, though equally odd is the thought that it probably has a more "acceptable," non-offensive pseudonym. i will bring it home to creep a little more. we've been eating many chocolates and making many more and i've been running around in a new wool trench, purchased for the amount of $8.20 at the hospice home store. most everyone has put up with my exhaustive cheeriness with a smile and a laugh. alfred takes care of me at home, beckoning me to cuddle on the couch and take a rest from running.
tonight will be some of the last fits of energy that i have left. being a bad friend, i have not yet sent out various cards and assorted trinkets, and must do so by tomorrow, so that they'll have their postmark before the magical date of December 24th. then i'll put out the new towels and blankets for the folks, wrap some presents, and finally set up my *new* early christmas present of the printer/scanner, so that i can share more with you than words.

maple leaves.

as fall transitions into winter, as yellow and brown move to bare branches and evergreen, this is for you. see you so so soon.

Pure Genius.

Instead of taking a nice nap at home, I am currently sitting in my dark office. This is because I skillfully locked up all of the gifts for the children in the car, leaving my jacket with the keys in it on the front seat.

know it all.

as a general characteristic of my life i am not a patient person (with the exception of small children and my work--i must put it all in one place and not leave enough for the other). like the swimmer in the middle of the lake, i must KEEP ON MOVING: GO GO GO NOW NOW NOW and there is no time to sit and muse. i tend to hit most things head on and with a swell of emotion, but have difficulty with the long and sustained plateaus. those, in important cases, take a great deal of energy and effort to maintain. i also have extreme difficulty with the fact that i am not generally knowledgable about every possible subject on the planet. logically speaking, this statement is silly, but again, in my person, knowledge is emotionally connected to self-worth. if i don't continually jump from one thing to the next, collecting a smidgen of this or a smattering of that, it is worthless. "i don't know" is a far more difficult answer for me to mutter than "i love you" or words equally as despised and avoided by others. And of course all of this, whether I like it or not, often makes me come across as a complete snob, or the most self-consumed person you've ever met. but in truth, i carry little tidbits of things i've picked up like a chimpmunk does seeds in its cheeks. and i spew them out in friendship whenever i am in conversation with someone. add to the "snob," "self-absorbed" list "completely socially inept." so, at a point in my life, in which i am so confused that my head is rarely straight, and when there is no end in sight for such lack of an answer, i must sit back and jumpily wait. something that i am having most difficulty doing.

"People say life is the thing, but I prefer reading."

Bookstores cause me to lose most of my self-control. Of the 50 alloted pounds I was allowed to stuff into cargo, MSP to AVL, i had a good 48. Accolades to Half-Price Books Maplewood, which, despite its size limitations, has always proven to be a serious compeditor to The Strand.
What i brought back, in no particular order:

Indian Killer-Sherman Alexie

The Naked Chef Takes Off-Jamie Oliver

Paula Spencer (Sequel to The Woman Who Walked Into Doors)-Roddy Doyle

Martha Stewart's Christmas (1989)

The Best of Martha Stewart Living Holidays (1993)

The Art of the Great Hollywood Portrait Photographers-John Cobal

Moving Out-Robert Frank

Time Life Photography Collection-16 books ($29.99!!! which of course, will have to be shipped book rate)

And thanks to Baltic Imports: The Hippocrene Treasury of French Love Poems

And you?

neverland.

in the winter, and most any time of year, we would go for drives along the western shores of the st. croix river. somehow, my father always knew the spots where we could park and crawl down the steep slope, grabbing on to branches that grew horizontally so as not to slip and roll down head first. some places even had old, twisted stairs that showed up in your peripheral vision, but the drivers prefered to stay on the platform in the lot, snapping panoramic pictures of wisconsin. i imagine that my father had gained experience in the founding of small holes in the conventional world by having similar adventures as a child with his two brothers.
time lost its sense down here, all there was were trees and leaves and the river and your imagination. we explored (with much trepidation) dark caves deep in the cliffs, full of foreign marks and dan was here, 1967. yes, you could still find arrowheads in the 1980s, and on one particularly bold expedition, he and maija even discovered their own secret waterfall. we carefully noted the types of rocks and trees and the stories of the people who knew this land far before we came into existance. you didn't want to get too close to the edge, because the st. croix didn't ease in as many other rivers and lakes do, it cut through the land in a way that it was a sheer drop, at least 10 feet deep right at the edge. its verocity decreased in the winter, when in certain places it turned to ice, and we would slide across (tapping a stick in front to check the depth) to a nearby island and do a little dance, both because it was so cold and because we had set foot on a previously unattainable location. i remember, his glasses would fog up in the below-freezing weather and he'd tilt his head down to look over them, which made him look particularly erudite as it made his eyebrows raise a little and his brow furrow.
this was the land before it was claimed down to shore, before it became someone's "beautiful scenic view." the caves are now boarded shut with cement and the signs to the stairwell taken down.
however, if you know where to go, you can still slide under the bars while no one's looking.