My destination is no longer a place, rather a new way of seeing.
Marcel Proust
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Tags: Quoting
there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock.
people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love.
people just are not good to each other
one on one.
the rich are not good to the rich
the poor are not good to the poor.
we are afraid.
our educational system tells us
that we can all be
big-ass winners.
it hasn’t told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.
or the terror of one person
aching in one place
alone
untouched
unspoken to
watering a plant.
Charles Bukowski
Tags: Quoting
A fun night in and around Union Station! Me and my best love in and among the masses (hidden from these photos but definitely there) on a beautifully balmy spring-like evening. It was our first time visiting since the complete renovation, and boy oh boy does everything dazzle like a new penny.
We supped at Tupelo Honey Cafe, for the sweetness AND the song , though mostly for the song, and no, they didn’t play it. Troy, this is the drink tipped in your honor – a Frose, which was sweeter than I like but pink(!) with a cherry on top, so all was forgiven. We also had some marvelous ribs, a cobb salad with fried chicken, and a biscuit big as my fist. High carb and worth the tickle of tastebuds. Indeed.
The Icehouse and the Wynkoop – two of the last bastions of our youth in ever-changing LoDo. In our 11th and Lafayette apartment living days, we spent many a night here, eating, drinking, playing pool. To continue in the Van Morrison vein, there was a jukebox with Brown Eyed Girl on it, but the barkeep had an override button that would send it along to the next song! The chuckles we had when it happened.
On Tennyson now, really getting as much bang for our buck as possible!
How about that handsome face?!
We sipped lattes to a toe-tapping French quartet at Tennyson Street Coffee before calling it a night. Many thanks to my parents for watching Juniper during our night on the town!
Oodles of zoodles, and a few meatballs, too. Zoodles, if you don’t know, are made by spiralizing a zucchini, which is pretty darned awesome. Heat them in the oven, and they, to my mind, are the best substitute for pasta. But that isn’t really fair, because I would honestly rather eat the zoodles. Really!
Why? I have been trying, and succeeding a good 90% of the time (sweets the weightiest albatross), at eating low carb. Not to be part of a growing bandwagon, but because my body has gotten very LOUD about what constitutes its best fuel. After trying just about every food combination imaginable to keep my hormones (and dreaded endometriosis) in check, keto (low carb high fat) works THE best. I have very little pain, fewer hot flashes, better digestion, more energy and focus (I didn’t know how foggy I was until I made the change). Also, to quote my friend Chrissie, “Where did your wrinkles go?” She is exaggerating, but my skin looks and feels great for a forty-six(!) year old. So zoodles, and casseroles consisting of my favorite pizza toppings (fennel, roasted bell pepper, mushroom, & Italian sausage), salmon, hamburgers without buns, bacon, and piles and piles of green things: broccoli, asparagus, cucumber, kale, lettuce, avocado, cabbage. These are my staples. So good.
Such a sap for this sweet girl, who, even in sleep is almost always on the move, wiggling, panting, stretching, smiling, cuddling. Juniper Beulah, I love you!
And to make this post an even more odd assortment, tomorrow I am going to my grandparents house for the first time since my Grandpa died. For reasons both obvious and puzzling, I am feeling a bit wrecked at the prospect. My family, member by member, is taking furniture and knickknacks, items random and sundry, and dispersing them to the four winds and our respective homes. My list includes a ladder-back chair, a whisk, bookends, a bowl, muffin tins, and a stool. Every single item touched by my grandparents hands, well used, loved even. Soon enough the house will be empty of Lewis and Sohn and Johnstone traces. With laughter, the sound of traffic, the flutter of toilet paper by the heat register, the creak of stair to the basement, a glimpse in the mirror at the end of the hall seen and heard by other eyes, filled with other voices. More than sixty years of memories. My whole life, thus far, and I am at a loss. Say a little prayer for me…
Letting go gives us freedom, and freedom is the only condition for happiness. If, in our heart, we still cling to anything – anger, anxiety, or possessions – we cannot be free.
Thich Nhat Hanh
Tags: Quoting
