even if it was no place particular in january

January 1, 2014 //

Hey! 2013 has been so RICH and full of love.
Here’s what kept me happy all year:

Mom & I – Unlikely Entrepreneurs?

{ new Triangle Farms packaging + foxes }

Quilting, knitting, crocheting, embroidery, felting…
weaving, tatting, printmaking, dressmaking, fabric dying…
African Violent propagating, birdhouse making, bookbinding…
woodburning, whittling, gardening, terrarium growing…

Name the craft and my mom has done it. And by “done it,” I mean: checked out some library books, taught herself the basics, MASTERED IT (during the quiet hours of midnight – 3 AM like any artist), and moved on to the next hobby.

The next hobby is: spinning fiber into yarn.

And her other hobbies paid for this one entirely. My mom has always given away her treasures as gifts (Ahem, or given them to US to give as gifts..) but in recent years I’ve started an online shop to sell her goodies and it has been quite lucrative! We just used her most recent earnings to buy a beautiful spinning wheel (built in Boulder!) and a tablet.. hooray for those famous fox mittens! I think she made & sold about 20 pairs in the 6 weeks before Christmas. Phew.

Dad’s 1st Visit to the Rockies

For Christmas last year, I bought my dad a plane ticket to Denver (mom prefers not to fly!) He booked a nice long visit for May, which is a great time to be in Colorado (and right when I got my own place, finally). We did a lot of adventuring– highlights included camping and hiking in the mountains near Salida, soaking in hot springs, visiting Boulder (my Colorado home for 3 years), and catching two Rockies/Yankees games.

{ local brews }

{ Yankees at Rockies }

{ tent reading near Mt. Princeton }

Sara’s Good News Galore.

While we’re on the family updates, Sara had a particularly fine year herself! She turned 30, Will got a job teaching at UMaine, they moved back from Philly and bought a house on the lake, and she rather quickly landed a job lecturing at UMaine, too, in that very familiar Chemical Engineering department where she earned all of her degrees.

2014 will probably be just as nice for her. That whole wedding thing. 🙂

{ at the lake house a few days ago }

Two More Half-Marathons!

I ran the Colfax Half Marathon in Denver last May. Aside from Miami, it’s the only time I have been able to get myself to the starting line without checking a bag or needing a ride, so that was a perk. While it was fun to run through the Denver Zoo, it was also the slowest mile on earth. Crowded winding tar paths with no room for passing. There were, however, precious signs like DON’T MONKEY AROUND. A better, ahem, attraction: the part where we ran through a fire station and got to high five firefighters. There was also a place where you could stop to pose with a bunch of shirtless firemen but HELLO, this is a race, people. The results live on the internet forever, I don’t have time to spare for your abs, SIR.

{ after Colfax, pre-extensive drinking }

Then in September Nick & Abbey & I rented a cabin for a weekend and I ran the Color Run in Buena Vista– so-called because of the pretty yellow aspen, not to be confused with one of those COLOR RUNS where they splatter you with colored powder. No. Not a funsy race, a real one. At altitude. We piled onto school buses and drove 13.1 mostly uphill miles to the start, where there was 1 portapotty. Most folks used the woods. It was a smalltown race and it was great. Until that hill at mile 7 or whatever, which my legs didn’t recover from. GORGEOUS and, again, followed by day drankin’ in the beautiful town of BV. We found our way to a whisky distillery when we should have quit. It was still broad daylight. It was worth it.

{ pictures taken by my #1 fan! }

My First Place

{ lilac door. I just ran 13.1 miles. }

I love my place. But when I started writing about it, I only reminded myself that I’m paying a whole lotta money for a place that I sleep in approximately.. 2 nights a month? (Granted, much-needed nights when Nick has male-bonding or I am sick or cranky.) So, I am grateful for my beautiful home: the sunshine on the hardwood, stark white walls, and revamped bureau from Nick’s childhood.. the quiet, the deck, the rose bushes, the lilac front door, and most of all– the bath tub. Motivation for many long runs. But it’s kind of silly, financially and logistically, so we may try to Tetris my belongings into Nick & Abbey’s place one of these days. (Where dogs are allowed, and he owns rather than rents.)

Traumatic Brain Injury Conference

My job– eh, I don’t even want to talk about it. I’m on vacation! But here is my 2013 JOB highlight.

Like most higher education staffers, I wear many hats despite my COMMUNICATIONS Coordinator title– a title that does not necessarily hint at owning an Event Planner hat. But oh, I do.

As the event planner for DU’s Grad School of Professional Psychology, I organized a daylong Continuing Education conference for mental health professionals and the CO Department of Education. Nearly 300 people registered for the event (a huge increase) and it concluded with our special guest– Kevin Pearce! If you’re not familiar, get familiar. He was on top of the snowboarding world along with Shaun White, until he suffered a devastating training fall and significant brain injury. Now he travels the world advocating for his “Love Your Brain” campaign– WEAR A HELMET!

This was the first of two 200+ attendee conferences I organized in a 4 week stretch this fall, but this was way more fun for me. Obviously. Kevin Pearce has my cell phone number and called me throughout his travels to Denver. I got to meet him on the sidewalk and hug him and usher him in, all while a video team from Craig Hospital captured our every move!! He is supposed to charge (a lot of money) any time he picks up a mic, so we were only scheduled to do a meet and greet. That sweetheart offered to come back after dinner and talk to us after we had watched the movie. I MEAN! Seriously.

If only he knew all the negotiating we had done to get him there. I think we earned our freebie.

{ promo }

{ with KP }

M(istress) of Fine Arts (like for real)

In my mind I was done with Grad School in 2012. I finished my thesis work in the spring, marched across stage with my classmates and bowed to the president in May, then luxuriated in 4 weeks of the Summer Writing Program before the job hunt began. HOWEVER! I was not done (what a lie on my resume). This past July I used an entire week of vacation time from DU (so bitter) and commuted to Boulder for my 8th and final week of Summer Writing Program classes. Due to the jaw situation of 2011, and the week I missed. That week was, of course, blissful and necessary and recharging, in addition to being inconvenient. Then one day this fall, my sealed transcripts arrived and my official Naropa diploma. Also, one last out-of-pocket bill since I’m already making loan payments. YIPPEE, I should only be paying those Buddhist hippie bastards for another 8 years. (JUST KIDDING, guys. About the bastards part. And I suppose I’m paying the loan company at this point, not the Buddhist hippies.)

Unless they realize I stole a library book.

{ soaking up summer rays at Naropa }

My 1st Show at Red Rocks

Yes, I lived in Colorado for 3 years before making my way to Red Rocks amphitheater! Though living in BOULDER counts as an excuse right? Not having a car? Being a broke student? Yes?

I daresay my first will be hard to outdo. Local Natives was my commuting music 20 hrs per week, on that dark and dreadful bus (to bus, to mall ride, to lightrail, to bus). I thought I hated The National, until I saw their Tiny Desk Concert. The greatest TDC of all time. Swoon

So when Local Natives opened for The National in September, WE WERE THERE. I think I cried with happiness. Most beautiful venue, most beloved bands, this delightful September wind.. maybe they’ll come back?!

{ Red Rocks after dark }

New DENVER Friends!

Nick comes with a big group of close-knit friends and (I am slightly shocked, as someone with a bit of social anxiety, to say) I love, love, love the time we spend with them. They have been so welcoming to me, even though it’s one of those situations where his ex is still a part of The Group and still at all of the birthdays and weddings. (That makes him more uncomfortable than me, if anything.) There are puppies and moms and dads and siblings and a bunch of sweet kiddos that are all a part of the gang, and it’s all very easy. Sports and celebrating milestones like turning 30, or home-buying, or marriage. And drinking delicious craft beer. What’s not to support there? THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT. I am so grateful for how much they love that Nick guy, which translates to a big warm welcome for me. They kept him company until I came along.

{ my favorite little family }

{ latest beer festival }

{ picking wildflowers for a wedding }

{ godbaby NFL dates }

NICK & ABBEYTAIL.

Last but not least.

As soon as Katelyn and I started working together in October 2012, we also became drinking buddies and were in similar (Just Dumped) positions. I remember her standing in the doorframe to my office that first week, telling me about her good friend/college roommate, Nick, “the funniest person I’ve ever met.” And she kept mentioning him. “I went to the animal rescue with Nick to look for a dog this weekend!” (Sounds like a keeper to me.)

We finally met in late January (when I was a healthy distance from my Just Dumped experience), under the premise of “He’ll be our wing man, let’s hit the bars.” I scratched Abbey’s butt, she peed on the carpet, we drank whiskey shots and ordered a midnight meatlover’s pizza– the rest is history.

She was right: he IS the funniest person I’ve ever met, although cracking HIM up makes me feel even better. He’s very Italian, very tattooed, very good at drinking, and he has humongous biceps. And dreamy hair. And the sweetest family, and old timey manners. He is always ready for my weirdo art sessions, overambitious dinner plans, half marathon adventures, and outdoorsy ideas. So there’s that.

Best of all, it’s like. One of those HEALTHY grownup relationships. I never have to waste a single moment wondering how that fellow feels about me, I am always fully loved/possibly worshipped, and appreciated for all my weird habits and goofy songs and obsessive photography and half-on/half-off sock issues.. my wiggly feet and neglected drinks and inability to stay awake for movies. My whipped cream addiction, 89 cent rice package addiction, Dunkin’ Donuts addiction.. I feel loved every single day, that’s reeeeeeeeeeal nice. THANKS BOO.

{ handsome date, Crested Butte }

{ handsome date, Houston }

{ Halloween, American Horror Story }

Our puppy:
Abbey is a nutcase mutt and we love her so! She will absolutely positively murder anyone who ever tries to hurt me, I’m sure of that, so I am very well guarded here in Denver. (See: aforementioned fiercely loyal Italian boyfriend). She gets to play with her “brother” Jackson most Tuesday nights at FAMILY DINNER. She’s currently located under my right elbow. Hi Beanie.

{ those two }

{ smushy baby }

Well! Hi 2014. Already sounds exciting: snowshoe hut trip with my love in a few weeks, sibling wedding in Vegas, sibling wedding in Maine, tentative wedding in Florida in November, Nick’s 30th..

Ready, GO. We’re cheersing the new year with cucumber juice and gin. Happy happy.

Re: Post title:
a line from the poem Erin read at Calla & Joe’s wedding, it just KILLED US ALL.

Categories Uncategorized

a young red fox and so on

December 26, 2013 //

Hey! I brought you 3 poems.

Nothing fancy. I’m on vacation.

This is to prepare you for my return, tomorrow(ish), to blogging
with one of them YEAR END REVIEW type things.
(Talkin’ like a Mainer. Not working.)

I can’t promise a REAL return to blogging, because this thing called INSTAGRAM has become a much easier way of documenting the everyday.

Also, that whole JOB THING. Really interfering.
And my possible perpetual mono. Is that a thing? Or am I lazy.

K, bye. SEE YOU TOMORROW(ish).

THE POEMS I BROUGHT:

1. –just because– I mean, I’m sure you’ve heard this? In HS English class? I just saw it monogrammed on a tea towel in Denver, so. It’s obviously HIP. Poetic resurgence. A poem’s place is in the kitchen. Etc.

This Is Just To Say

by William Carlos Williams

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

2. Julie Carr is from Denver. She teaches at Naropa in the summertime. I wrote my critical thesis all about her. Okay, not really, but “100 Notes on Violence” and “Sarah–of fragments and lines” figured prominently. My books are in Colorado, I am not in Colorado, so here’s what I could grab from the internet – I BEG YOUR PARDON.

Lines of Refusal

by Julie Carr

Nothing here, just the sound of the heat, the sound of the cars,
nothing, nothing

Without failure, no ethics for one who from the very start would be an
exact coincidence with himself

To the oldest son a scythe, to the second a cock, to the third a cat

Sweet unrest

Avoid rivers, strivers, and voyeurs

I am not afraid to sound

Treasury is a boring word, whereas treasure is an exciting word

Not gather, not tether, no tie

The young brother came to a town that was completely hung with
black crepe

Wrote his autobiography in exactly thirty-seven words

No friend, no grammar, no end

Later, he too will become an imposing statue

Crawled into a crawl space and pulled shut the door

No wish, no fission, no sign

The hurrying across the avenue

Snow and so on

A young red fox and so on

Face or screen or book and so on

3. I’m scared to look back at my many Mary Oliver postings, for fear that I may have already posted this one. One year I sat on the counter drinking wine and reading two volumes of her poems out-loud (through undoubtedly purple lips), tearing up over every last line. (I repeat, she knows how to end a poem!) If you ever want to get a “bible” of sorts for someone who isn’t particularly religious, may I suggest you lend them some Mary Oliver? Anyway, here’s a poem about loss because loss abounds. What would Sufjan Stevens say? “..and He takes, and He takes, and He takes..”

Ice

by Mary Oliver

My Father spent his last winter
Making ice grips for shoes

Out of strips of inner tube and scrap metal.
(a device that slips over the instep

And holds on the shoe
A section of roughened metal, it allows you to walk

Without fear of falling
Anywhere on ice or snow.) My Father

Should not have been doing
All that close work

In the drafty workshop, but as though
He sensed travel at the edge of his mind,

He would not be stopped. My mother
Wore them, and my aunt, and my cousin.

He wrapped and mailed
A dozen pairs to me, in the easy snows

Of Massachusetts, and a dozen
To my sister in California.

Later we learned how he’d given them away
To the neighbors, an old man

Appering with cold blue checks at every door.
No one refused him.

For plainly giving was an asking,
A petition to be welcomed and useful—-

Or maybe, who knows, a seed of desire
Not to be sent alone out over the black ice.

Now the house seems neater: books,
Half-read, set back on the shelves;

Unfinished projects put away.
This spring

Mother writes to me: I am cleaning the workshop
And I have found

So many pairs of the ice-grips,
Cartons and suitcases full,

More than we can ever use.
What shall I do? And I myself

Alone in that house with nothing
But darkly gleaming cliffs of ice, the sense

Of distant explosions,
Blindness as I look for my coat—

And I write back: Mother, please
Save everything.

Categories Reading, Writing

sometimes a blackbird will bring the wind into my hair

April 11, 2013 //

You know how I feel about Craig’s List house-hunting.

And you know I’ve been commuting 20+ hrs a week since October.

(*That’s a lie– now I just live at Nick’s and he says things like,
“tell me when you’re close, I’ll pour you a glass of wine.”
Why would I ever hop on that bus again?)

WELL,
I finally got the hoo-hahs to tell my current landlord (housemate? Jewish mother?) that I needed to leave sooner than June 1st. She wasted no time finding a replacement, so that was fine. But then the reality of securing a home in 30 days began to set in!

As a back-up, I asked Abbey if I could stay in her kennel.

But everything always works out. Usually at the last minute. (Thanks, guardian angel!)

I know nothing about Denver housing but quickly came up with a price range and sought out a 1 bedroom apartment in a quiet old house. With lots of sunlight and hardwood floors. In a neighborhood that didn’t feel ‘stabby.’

It was kind of dismal. I saw pink bathrooms. Green bathrooms. Bathrooms without doors. Sinks without cupboards. Lots of basements. Houses next-door to marijuana dispensaries. Next to trains.

THEN one morning I found this.

Nick and Katelyn, my Denver native advisors, insisted I jump on it. I toured it during my lunch break. A few days later, I signed the lease!

{Coffee patio. My open windows.}

The current tenant received over 100 emails in 24 hours for this gem.

The only rental in a neighborhood of 3/4 million dollar homes. Right along the running/biking path.

Hello, deal. Hello, housing crunch.

Hello, smiley hippy persona.

I really hit it off with the (California babe) tenant, so she told the landlord I was the right choice. HALLELUJAH.

If you follow me on Pinterest, you know that all I can do now is dream about patio decor and succulent gardens.

We even have a backyard and a picnic table! (We = me, and the 2 other units in the house. Out back: a reclusive girl who works at a movie theater, and upstairs: a couple in their 30’s / climate change scientists? / runners.)

9 days!

{Her furniture was divine, but I’ll try my best.}

{Should be sunnier with my white linens & birch bed!}

{Sunny kitchen: door to backyard next to sink!}

OH YEAH,

and my boyfriend lives a few blocks away,
just across the creek path!

YEP, I timed it:

{Time it takes to walk to Nick’s house!}

I swear, I wasn’t trying to move into his hood. I kind of liked the idea of us having a more-downtown-place and a creek-path-place, HOWEVER. Now I’m totally thrilled. NEIGHBOR! When he annoys me, I can go home!

Just kidding, see: wine comment above.

But I AM thrilled to have my shoes and my clothes and my kitchen near his, and not a 2 hour bus ride away. I am happy that if I forget something, I can easily GO GET IT. I am happy that I can start taking more classes at the gym– earlier ones, later ones..

Now: packing. Loading up my friends’ cars (I LOVE YOU).

And saying goodbye to BOULDER. Mount Sanitas.

At least until that dang light rail is completed. 🙂

_____________________________________

re: post title:

Jacksonville, Vermont

by Jason Shinder

Because I am not married, I have the skin of an orange

that has spent its life in the dark. Inside the orange
I am blind. I cannot tell when a hand reaches in

and breaks the atoms of the blood. Sometimes

a blackbird will bring the wind into my hair.
Or the yellow clouds falling on the cold floor are animals

beginning to fight each other out of their drifting misery.

All the women I have known have been ruined by fog
and the deer crossing the field at night.

Categories Colorado, Life

no boyz allowed

April 8, 2013 //

First, let’s address the fact that your mind should have immediately gone HERE:

{I still want to live in a tree SO BAD.}

No? What’s wrong with you.

Now I’m thinking about the gigantic pumpkin installment.

FOCUS.

When I met Nick, I found out quickly that he was

a) a GOD DADDY (his terminology)
&
b) the best man in two weddings this year

Conclusion: he is loved. –THUMBS UP–

(Conclusion: am I NOT LOVED?
Get married already, oh-engaged-sister.)

We met a little too late for me to join in on the first round of festivities,
so I had GIRLS WEEKEND with Abbey dog
while he was best-manning-it-up in Austin, TX.

(..while he was drinking, drinking, toast-rocking,
getting further inked, bro-lovin’, speaker-phoning,
questioning why he slept with a sock on his hand,
and eating good good BBQ with his favorites..)

THIS STUFF HAPPENED:

{Highlight of my weekend: Abs vs. pinwheel.}

{Poetry. Third wheeling with my favorite love-birds.}

{Post Saturday 5-miler, The Licks.}

{6:30 AM, Sunday 6-miler, 35 degrees.}

{Cloud-gazing, I swear. She doesn’t get treats!}

{Where’s our coffee date buddy?}

{Girls and toys and smooches.}

{Did I mention the smooches?}

{Dick move, Abbey.}

{Lazy bones.}

{Normally not allowed to have toys in bed!}

{Okay, is my dad ever coming back?}

Good grief, I love this little ladybug.

We need to work on her anger re: skateboards,
but otherwise..

Hey! Our best man has landed! Phew.

Onward, toward beet risotto experiments..

Categories Colorado, Dogs, Life, Running

something that more or less kills me with delight

March 29, 2013 //

{Baby me, getting the party started.}

On Monday, at 6:13 AM east-coast-time, I turned 28.

But it was 4:13 AM here, and I slept through the transformation.

ThatGuyWhoLovesMe was like a little kid as midnight approached. He whispered, “I can’t wait until you wake up in the morning!” and, “I’ve been working on a project..”

Nick gets up before me. (Is this because he uses hair product and I do not?) Nick doesn’t giggle out of bed like I do, it’s more of a fumble toward the kettle and Abbey’s kibble. On Monday I stayed under the covers to read messages from the best coast– and then announced my GRAND BIRTHDAY GIRL ENTRANCE!

Oh, what’s that? My favorite Bon Iver song?

My (less sludgy) French Vanilla coffee in the French press?

Also, this and this.

{this heart radiates love.}

Confession: I was so impressed by his linocut carving that I didn’t realize it was an actual card with actual WORDS in it. I collapsed in laughter on the kitchen floor when he pointed it out. SORRY BOO.

YES I just introduced him to linocuts 2 weeks ago and he did this without adult supervision!

YES that locket has fiddleheads on it.
YES he knew of my love for fiddleheads.
NO he did not realize they were an edible Maine delicacy.
He’s been LEARNED.

{SERIOUSLY.}

{At work with my new BLING..}

My 3rd Colorado birthday. I thought I would only have 2 of those?

My PLAN was another birthday hike, but a blizzard happened.
I started to lose steam, but my Denver friends were troopers!
They even helped me navigate gross sidewalks in my ballet flats.

{Atomic Bloody Mary = a hint of dark beer, we’ll TAKE THAT.}

{Denver Biscuit Co.}

{Denver = good, good, good people!}

{CSU game blues, until this guy woke up.}

{Cheer up, god-daddy! We’ll get ’em next year.}

{Miles doing the Harlem Shake with my scarf.}

{Coke bottle + Snickers box = the best toys on earth?}

{Birthday 6 miler}

Sunday:
Another day, another brunch! I’m SPOILED.

At least I burned a few calories running on the ice for an hour?

More Bloodies, check.
ALL THE FOOD? check
Note to self: Eggplant at Lucille’s, forevermore.

Speaking of food, the Italian cooked me an Italian feast!
And there was wine with a mountain on the label.
And .. we are addicted to Breaking Bad, finally.

No birthday would be complete without some love from home:

{Maine love from Pasquina’s camp.}

{Maine love from Kylie, who just won this canoe!}

{Maine love from Kylie: canoe winner!}

Brought you this.

You know how I feel about Mary Oliver.

________________________________________

Mindful

Every day
I see or hear
something
that more or less

kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle

in the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for –
to look, to listen,

to lose myself
inside this soft world –
to instruct myself
over and over

in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant –
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help

but grow wise
with such teachings
as these –
the untrimmable light

of the world,
the ocean’s shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?

________________________________________

to Emilie: I know, right? Every time. ❤

Categories Art, Colorado, Life, Running

the daughter doesn’t sit in back

March 17, 2013 //

I brought you these poems. It’s been a while.
I know some of you don’t find THE POEMS without help.
I’m here! It’s almost poetry month!

So, these are not happy. Violent and sad, like I do.
A Boulder babe wrote them. (NOT this Boulder babe, THIS one.)

{Get ready to get the sads.}

3 poems from Michele Battiste:

One Method of Avoidance

Mustaches are sinister. Raccoons, black ice, curling irons, clipboards, roofing guns, absinthe, marketers, head cheese, every male gynecologist I’ve encountered, all sinister. Maybe you’d protest mustaches or raccoons, but you must agree

about the clipboard. Its destruction of creative spirit, its Linnaean categorization. Let’s talk about this. That our lives are littered with artifacts of aggression

masquerading as implements of order, coherence, bureaucracy. Staplers are sinister. Scissors are sinister. Paper clips can be manipulated to serve the sinister. And language. Inherent connotations condemning the left through Latin

roots: sinistra. Let’s talk. “Chlamydia” is sinister. “Evacuation” is sinister. “Agenda” as a joke is sinister. Let’s talk. Knives are sinister. Deadbolts are sinister.

Junkies, sinister. Car keys, sinister. Don’t let me sleep. Jugular veins are sinister. Dream. Coroners are sinister. See. Marilyn Sue collapsed in her kitchen, stab wounds emptying out, linoleum so drenched the hazmat team exacto’d (exacto is sinister)

the stains away. Sinister. Sinister. Sinister. (Don’t let me) Say it enough and any sense it could have made

_________________________________________

Sinners Union
for Marilyn Sue Gillespie

Only small people hate god. I’m getting smaller each day.
– Leslie Anne Mcilroy

The day before the service we lost our
way, got turned around on roads dividing
corn field from pasture. The same dun acre

repeats from Greenfield to Lamar the month
of February. Your children were abashed
at the forgetting. I had a folder.

It was no help when Pastor Robert asked
when you were saved. We stumbled. Insisted
though the phase began to fade when your

husband left you with two babies and ten
dollars, your salvation took hard, held fast.
“I’m Catholic,” I told him, as if that would

explain a dereliction that was mine,
not yours, afraid he would refuse because
your family could not hold on to facts

he deemed to be your toll. He was kind. I
had a folder. Rifled through it. Made certain
Mary Jacobs knew all the words to “In

the Garden.” I don’t have to tell you what
Baptist mourning sounds like but I thought
it would be livelier. I wore a suit.

Gina wept mutely, and I tried to tell
her that the daughter doesn’t sit in back.
I was hoping for a hidden wine skin

or a florid uncle. I figured you
would have enjoyed that. Remember last
summer? We drove the dirt roads, taking turns

blindly, coming up on the church that seemed
abandoned, broom grass and Queen Anne’s lace to
our thighs. The door opened. The lights turned on.

Inside – salvaged pews, a plywood altar.
You played a blues riff on the piano,
smirked at your own audacity. It was

hot and we waved paper fans at hornets
and our throats. The backs were stamped “Sinners
Union Christian Church” and you remembered.

It was a glorious afternoon. Your
service was nothing like that but it was
not for you. I had a stupid folder.

You would have laughed. We hosted supper
at the old bowling alley, the one wedged
between the train tracks and the swimming pool.

Some Nebraskans turned it into as much
of an Italian Bistro as southern
Missouri can stand. Uncle Shep asked

if he could pay and I almost told him
you would roll over in your grave but you
didn’t have one yet, just a locked drawer

at the coroner’s office. We tried to
pretend it was a normal death. Steve took
me aside to say he knew the date, that day

you flung records from your house because
the music wasn’t holy. Thank God you
got over that. When the dinner ended,

a waitress stopped me as I wrote the check
to say you didn’t feel a thing. God was
watching. God took you before you knew

the knife was coming, before it pierced your
neck and you praise God felt no fear. Your
body on the kitchen floor, your killer

on his knees, finishing, and you were in
the arms of God rejoice. Sue is home rejoice.
It was a miracle praise God. Sue, I

said Amen. I did. And meant it. Rejoice.

_________________________________________

Remains

                       Five acres               border ed
                    by land no               longer
              your father’s.               The stone
               schoolhouse               that saw you
             married, my               husband
                 already                waving
                his fists               inside your
         womb.  The gate               knotted 
                 up with               overgrown
              broomgrass,                guarding
                 a path to               the creek.
              The neighbor’s               goats have
                  escaped                 their pen, crossed
                 the dirt               road always
             giving up               dust, have
            their run 	            of the place.
        This is the               land you
        saved, the               asylum
of your planned               escape
  when the world               goes 
      nuts.  Sue,               we have your
     license plates,               the red
            toothbrush               you bought my
              son.  My               husband thought
          to put aside               the
     butcher’s block               I loved.
    You know what               I am
        avoiding:               ashes
      in the box               on top
    the bureau.               You are
     not home.               We are not
safe.  Nothing               ended
         like you             wanted.  What
          remains:               the trial.
              I mean               pilgrimage.
            Terror.  I               mean rage.

Categories Reading, Writing

have i told you lately

March 4, 2013 //

I’M BACK, ~~BITCHES~~ loyal friends!

Usually when bloggers take a mega hiatus from blogging, they inform their dear readers. Warn them, reassure them, leave them something pretty to look at. Instead, I left you HIGH AND DRY.

Why? JUST BECAUSE.

My weird job gets weirder. (2 of 8 staff members left.)
I still commute 20+ hours a week. (Until May 1? June 1?)
I try to frequent the gym/hit the pavement.
(Some weeks are unimpressive.)
(Screw you, 360 degree mirror at Target!)
Also, there’s this guy. (Did I sneak that by anyone?)

I’ll try to do better. Is anyone out there?

Here are ~~10 things~~ nay, 15 things, via Instagram.

{Still commuting– sometimes there are puppies.}

{Still in love with the view from North Boulder.}

{Still healthy and running, knock on desk!}

{Still favor cold runs over hot runs, any day.}

{I went HOME to Maine. Snowy front lawn.}

{There were writers and donuts.}

{I gave Jax kissing lessons!}

{I clung to my redheads and they clung back.}

{So much Jon time, and I fell for Portland, ME.}

{I bought my dad a plane ticket to Colorado!}

{I love my Naropa girls. Also, Bloody Mary’s.}

{I celebrate coffee and cheap sunglasses.}

{Midnight meat-lover’s pizza, the rest is history.}

{Denver boys are cuter than other boys.}

{I love your dog.}

That brings us to last night! Golden hour puppy face.
Also, to the end of my lunch break. MORE SOON!

Categories Colorado, Dogs, Life, Running

the hardest thing you ever learned

December 30, 2012 //

I’m at home in Maine, surrounded by my favorite books.

{Big Creek Missile Agency image from the book}

Below is one of my favorite excerpts of all time,

from Homer Hickam’s book, Rocket Boys, which was also published (and made into a movie) as October Sky. Jake Gyllenhaal. Just sayin’.

__________________________________________

“What’s the hardest thing you ever learned, Dad?” I asked abruptly.

He leaned on the rail of the stoop. “Entropy,” he said finally.

I didn’t understand the word and he knew it. “Entropy is the tendency of everything to move toward confusion and disorder as time passes,” he explained. “It’s part of the second law of thermodynamics.”

I must have looked blank. “No matter how perfect the thing,” he continued patiently, “the moment it’s created it begins to be destroyed.”

“Why was that so hard to learn?”

He smiled. “Because even though I know it to be true, I don’t want it to be true. I hate that it’s true. I just can’t imagine,” he concluded, heading back inside his office, “what God was thinking.”

(Page 160)

__________________________________________

If you’re not familiar, it’s one of my top 3 book picks– about a boy in a mining town who struggles with breaking free from the mining path to pursue science..rocketry! NASA! I love mining history, even more now that I live in the west. I read this for Coming of Age in America at UMaine with Jim Bishop. I read it with a red pen and left a trail of red stars on every page..

Categories Life, Reading

black friday

December 11, 2012 //

{Eldorado Canyon}

As my first official HOLIDAY as an employed-person, the 4.5 day Thanksgiving weekend felt like an eternity. So restful. (Our Dean let us have an extra half day off, though that is less enjoyable when you commute a couple hours just to hear the news.. surprise!)

I walked off my Thanksgiving feast with the final member of my

Top 3 Favorite Boulderites: MICHAEL!

First we braved Pearl Street during Black Friday madness to take advantage of Patagonia’s lifetime guarantee on Miguel’s climbing pants.. note to self! I should shop at Patagonia..

Then to Eldorado Canyon, much the opposite of Black Friday madness.

{Just south of Boulder}

{Sharp little mountains!}

{I’m too lazy to crop photos today.}

{Golden Hour}

When the sun started to sink it got CHILLY. We played a game called “sprint to the sunshine.” I lost, not an impressive showing.

He also invited me to partake in another game of the rock-climber variety, called “try not to get run over by trains in train tunnels!” –I passed. (You’re welcome, mom.)

We replenished our calories at Avery Brewing Company, with beer and a DOUBLE CHEESEY burger, no big deal.

{Easily amused in the parking lot!}

I LOVE HIM. The end.

{ROOMMATES!}

Categories Colorado, Life

every day is moose day

December 10, 2012 //

Moose is known for claiming every major holiday is really MOOSE DAY. My birthday? Moose day. Thanksgiving? No exception.

{Now it’s official.}

Now this banner is hanging over his food and water bowls to drive home the point.

So I spent a 3rd Colorado Thansksgiving with the boys. YES, that beardy guy who broke my ice cold heart just two months ago. I’ve never had a dysfunctional family before–thanks mom & dad!– so now is my chance. (In all seriousness, it’s almost too-good-to-be-true that H & I have managed to stay close without skipping a beat– I probably haven’t gone more than a week or two without Moosey time, which usually involves breakfast with Jules at our diner across the street first. It’s STRANGE and unexpected but– don’t question it?)

Thanksgiving # 1 = our Great Sand Dunes adventure, complete with frozen beer, campfire salmon, and a feeling that the sun would never set in that open desert space.

Thanksgiving # 2 = we rented the cutest old ranger’s cabin in Walden, CO (Grizzly Creek) and had a beautiful drive through Poudre Canyon listening to a seriously spot-on day of NPR programming. But the stove didn’t work, so it was freezing. The carbon monoxide detector kept going off. We tried to leave the doors open and air it out while going for a little drive. Then we went into a ditch on the icy road and had to wait for a tow truck on Thanksgiving night in the middle of: NOWHERE. H also threw his back out during our unsuccessful efforts at digging ourselves out of the ditch. (Read: re-injured an old EXTREME KAYAKING wound. Amiright? Waterfalls and shit?)

We set an alarm to wake us up every hour, to avoid carbon monoxide poisoning. We did not eat our feast or stay the second night.

{Before shit got real.}

So this was our first attempt at a non-adventurous Thanksgiving.

The day involved spiked coffee, competitive scrabble, home brew, feasting, frisbee time, and.. a viewing of Easy Rider? Because I’m sure that’s a holiday classic? Or something.