December 2022

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How absurd these words are, such as beast and beast of prey. One should not speak of animals in that way. They may be terrible sometimes, but they’re much more right than men…They’re never in any embarrassment. They always know what to do and how to behave themselves. They don’t flatter and they don’t intrude. They don’t pretend. They are as they are, like stones or flowers or stars in the sky.

Herman Hesse


Happy Christmas Eve! Here is hoping you are safe and warm and surrounded by those you love. What a literal shit storm of a week it has been across these United States. I am grateful for electricity and heated spaces, boy howdy.

This cute tree is the invention of Michael and Mary. We enjoyed a most wonderful time of the year sleepover at their house last Friday, complete with epic meals made by Michael and cookies made by Mary, as well as cider sipping, coffee guzzling, puzzling, and gaming. All of our usual with a nice surprise, too.

Dear Jesus the dog dearly departed this past summer after fourteen magical years. This is the newest addition, Leo. He is a 100% sweet and 1000% energetic puppers. Seriously. So much energy! He and Juniper ran around the yard for literally hours, which was wonderful for us humans as the temperatures were not terribly walk-friendly. They exercised themselves good and proper!

In advance of our visit, Michael and Mary said they had a surprise for us, one requiring sturdy shoes and warm garments. Greg guessed a snowball fight, while I came up mostly blank. This Chatfield branch of the Denver Botanic Garden stroll was it, and boy was it delightful! At 19 degrees, we walked swiftly through the magical affair. It took ages to heat up afterward, with mulled wine and hot beverages and the warmest of conversation. Worth it!

Michael’s not world famous but probably ought to be canelĂ© for breakfast. So good!!

A moment of stillness…

After our Michael and Mary sleepover, it was time for another with my parents! Daddy is the best napper I know, even beating out the hubster.

Game time! Greg and I reigned supreme at Sequence this time round, but there were no hard feelings. We also did some binge watching – Nine Perfect Strangers, continued to eat like kings, more delicious homemade treats along with a whole host of store bought. The best.

Juniper sings the praises of a new sweater while also wishing you a very Merry Christmas!

Go Slowly

Smile, breathe and go slowly.

Thich Nhat Hanh



The chief beauty about time
is that you cannot waste it in advance.
The next year, the next day, the next hour are lying ready for you,
as perfect, as unspoiled,
as if you had never wasted or misapplied
a single moment in all your life.
You can turn over a new leaf every hour
if you choose.

Arnold Bennett


Brian Patrick Hagman. I knew Brian in junior high, only vaguely, boyfriend of a friend, giant smiled and preppy, winner of the science fair. Fast forward two years, Junior English, and he’s lanky and much more handsome, the best hair at school, seated next to me. No longer preppy, sporting shirts emblazoned with my own recent obsession: SKULLS. I am instantly smitten, duh, duh, duh. Though he has zero romantic interest in me, we are fast friends in all other arenas.

On our first outing, he picks me up in his coolest of cool cars, a red convertible VW Bug. We sail down I-70, hair whipping, a cacophony of tunes and voices shouting over the din. Destination: Mushroom Tables, me a lone female among a sea of skaters, the magic and splendor, joy and ease. There will be more of this and other hangouts, caffeinated evenings, diners and dives, Paris on the Platte, too.

Brian will form a band – Wretched Refuse – named after the Emma Lazarus poem, cementing both his daring and intelligence. He was ALWAYS the smartest person in the room. I’ll attend shows, mostly in shady warehouses downtown: deafening, rowdy, moments straight from fil-ums, and stand in awe of his wit and charisma.

Always open to novel experiences, I organize an evening at a theater above Paris, Sam Shepard’s Seduced. If you’ve seen it, you likely know where I am heading. Imagine being seventeen, sitting next to a boy you fancy, while simultaneously trying to pretend this creepy, long nailed, Kleenex flinging weirdo isn’t simulating masturbation right before your eyes. I don’t think the pair of us ever worked so hard NOT to look at each other.

In that youthful time of firsts, my season with Brian was a source of many: first ride in a convertible, first cigarette (oof!), first and last porno play, first (only?) friend to show up wearing the same shirt without prior planning, first friend to get a tattoo (and later name his second band after it), and first friend with whom I will play pool and stay out until dawn, in one extraordinary two-fer.

That halcyon night into morning, testament to Brian’s story telling prowess, had him conjuring us, as we all wore Army inspired garments, as veterans of Vietnam, our detailed fictional history brilliantly woven from the ether. After a smashing defeat at the pool hall, with me at the wheel, Joy Division on the speakers, we zoomed the back way to Boulder and across the diagonal, to Longmont, nearly Ft. Collins. The laughter and stories, going, going, of our dreams, of landscapes, of Rudy (Ru-dayyy) the Zippo lighter, a gift from Mike Lombardi, also present, though no longer, lost more than a decade ago.

Life separated us, for painful and practical reasons, and this conjuring of memory, a joyful opening of a precious time capsule, the result of me wondering if he breathes still. My kindly friend who never belittled nor diminished me, who smiled, who filled rooms with thunderous laughter, both his own and in response to him. How I loved him. How I loved who we were together.

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