wisdom for the week.

decreasing toxicity includes asking really hard questions and just saying no to drama. and, most likely, running for long periods of time.

things i've loved (and want to remember) about the last seven days:
my uncle approving my choices and listening to my food recommendations.
hearing the truckee bar tender ask me if i like to get things done.
the text that said, "i'm a fly trap for freaks"
erin's potato bread infused with ramps.
connecting the many dots of permanency at work.
hearing wimberly say, "i've been dreaming about my bachelorette fashion show for years!"
my first bite of duck. (quack)
receiving a small piece of mail with a big question from my best friend.
taking two steps forward and no steps back.

"i bought my girl a jacket!"

i'm reminded of the love i have for my kitchen and dining room when i host friends to eat. i put together a fennel and arugula salad, pappardelle with spiced butter dish, and a chocolate cake with blackberries and mascarpone cream. a few glasses of wine later and my belly is satisfied as i reflect on the preciousness of j, m, and l; their compassion and drive encourage me to do better, be better, and see better. especially as we reflected on our war wounds and would-you-give-it-back-slash-leave-a-note-slash-return-it stories. or would you just buy your girl a jacket? either way, at the end of the day, i am satisfied.

reinventing mondays.

the goal: start the week off right, even though it's the most tiring day of them all.

the tasks: dress up a little bit more than normal (this can involve wearing a dress or curling one's hair. perhaps, even a tie?) and bring in baked goods for co-workers. also, write one hand written thank you note.

the recipe: for a successful week. boom.

looking forward to our friendship.

you, with those big brown eyes.
the way the crows feet surround them,
i look at you and feel the sadness;
the weight of how much you hold:
your family, your love, your desire to change this world.

you cause me to come home
and swallow three chocolate chip cookies.
the ones you would have eaten
if you weren't afraid of what's up my stairs.
the ones you would have eaten
if we didn't already spend so much time together.
the ones you would have eaten
if you weren't debilitated by the idea of poison.

your presence urges me to read more;
to listen to the words and understand the history.
to invest in word play and expand my skills.
your intuition is astounding and overwhelming, too.

and when i'm around you i feel safe.
safe to tell you the dark secret
about bin laden's death without judgment.
safe to tell you the bright secret
about my relationship with the inanimate objects in my house:
cupcakes and clothes, they don't actually talk back.

ultimately, though, it's your wisdom.
i am absolutely and positively attracted to your experiences
and the way you interpret them.
and i'm reminded of them,
every time i see the crows feet around your eyes.

it's going to be a good year:
i'll continue to listen
as you continue to share.

on this eleven hundredth post.

all i have to say is: don't break another wine glass. remember to take big deep breaths. and smiling is good, too.

grateful in these days.

for the link sent to me by michele: it's changing my life every day.
for quinoa salad with the redhead who has a frozen face.
for unpacking and color coding her closet, reminding her she's not in walnut creek anymore.
for unexpectedly attending dave chappelle.
for humboldt fog's cypress grove goat cheese.
for losing my voice on a roller coaster.
for the ears of the bearded southern california boy who is becoming a man.
for my constant laughter rather than tears.
for every single text from my favorite thirteen year old.
for all fourteen days that my manicure lasts.
for the wise words and support from my favorite ocd friend. especially regarding death and bin laden.
for my unfortunate timing which forces constant focus on forgiveness.
for my legs. and my running shoes.
for my will and desire to not give up. on me.