Make your mistakes, take your chances, look silly, but keep going.
Don’t freeze up.
Thomas Wolfe
Tags: Quoting
We went to the library last night, returning a heavy bag of books, one of which, rather sadly, went unread because of a lack of time. Dorothy Parker, I may just have to buy your complete stories!
It rained, fiercely, sheets plummeting from the sky, with the whitest brightest flashes of thunderous lightning and little bits of hail littering the rooftops like snow. A genuine Colorado storm. When we lived in Portland, we sometimes lamented the fact that we never had what we thought as REAL thunder and lightning, having grown up with claps so powerful as to rattle the bowels and stun the ears. Pittsburgh had better thunder, the kind movie makers use to replicate the perfect summer storm, which was wonderful and I loved.
The poor neighborhood turkey ran fast and furious across the frame, shaken and stirred by hail and torrents of water. There’s the view from the library I’ve told you about, one to get lost in. And the mammatus clouds, hanging wild and heavy above. Eeek, how I love this place!
The two of us celebrated our anniversary, twenty-three years wed (huzzah!), with a very fancy dinner at The Broadmoor’s Penrose Room. I wore a beaded cardigan and a pearl ring that were once my Grandmother’s. He wore a jacket for the first time since New York city, circa 2004, when we saw A Raisin in the Sun. That time, I wore a snazzy dress and he wore the jacket, the pair of us alone and slightly defeated in a sea of shorts and t-shirts (this is not like Sex and the City!). Thankfully, our disappointment that we had so carefully carted such fancy duds from Portland to Manhattan was short lived because it was high summer, and beautiful, everything warm and aglow with night lights and neon. We strolled hand in hand back to SoHo and our rented apartment, everything New York quiet, the hush of a place that only nearly sleeps.
Friday night, not nearly as warm, but lovely still, with stunning views (oh my goodness, we live here!), was a bit of a dream. Every need considered, every taste bud tickled, amuse bouche, lobster bisque, lovely sweets, I even got a pillow for my back. We ate and giggled and laughed and ate and wondered and ate some more. We felt grateful, for all of our privilege, all that we have and can do.
Cut to my Sunday morning bath, the sharp contrast from Friday, me luxuriating in a tub without walls. Life is good!
Tags: Colorado Springs
We live through myriads of seconds, yet it is always one, just one, that casts our entire inner world into turmoil, the second when the internal inflorescence, already steeped in every kind of fluid, condenses and crystallizes—a magical second, like the moment of generation, and like that moment concealed in the warm interior of the individual life, invisible, untouchable, beyond the reach of feeling, a secret experienced alone. No algebra of the mind can calculate it, no alchemy of premonition divine it, and it can seldom perceive itself.
Stephan Zweig
Well, mostly earlier today, save these two, which were taken last week, in the same good company, however. A new friend, Jennifer, and I, out walking. Discussing that word, friend, how often it is tricky and not quite enough, sometimes too much.
In between oohing and aahing over the scent of pine and how damn lucky we are to live in THIS place, red stone and dust, spotted towhees, flowers, and giant gorgeous mountains peering over our shoulders, we shared the shorthand of memories, distillations of of selves more than forty years in the making. How did I come to be me in this instant?
Though we did not pose the question nearly as succinctly as that, it is a good one. How did I? I married young and made it last. The hubster is my very best friend. I knew when I was eight years old that I didn’t want children, and thank goodness because my body, strong and sometimes wicked dictator that it is, occasionally renders me helpless and tired and utterly and completely infertile. My wit is sharp, save when dulled by the hammer and illogic of depression. And siblings? Three, one of whom I no longer speak to. No, it is not sad. People always say that, but it’s not. One doesn’t encourage others to remain in abusive relationships.
Though I love religious iconography and people who hide such treasures for me to find (squee!), I am not religious. Deeply spiritual, yes. In love with humanity, yes. Willing to do good, to give, to share, to help, yes, yes, YES!!
And what else, in this getting to know me phase? I love to walk and hike and bike, mostly in that order. I am an excellent baker and cook. A decent decorator. I love flowers and art and cerebral fil-ums. I devour good books and toss the rest aside. I cuss. I am a speed demon when entering the highway, first gear loud and thrumming, then go granny goose and take in the scenery. Was that a bird of prey I just saw? Let’s smell, touch, taste that. Let’s travel there. Turn right now, I wanna see where this goes. Do you hear that? Isn’t it amazing? Oh my goodness, aren’t we sooo lucky? We are alive now in THIS place!!
