May 24, 2010

Heat

We are silly people,
hiding from this
Heat.

We pay hard-earned cash to
maintain synthetic igloos. Then
lose an article or two to find that light brown,
that light brown like toast, but softer.

I am not the color of toast, I am
the color of my mother.
A beautiful pink, a rosy rosy freckle.

Please, yes, open the back door.
And maybe this weather will kill
those pretty vines choking the pines.

May 5, 2010

Leviathan

It seems as though I always write in every spot but this one - email, hand-written notes, grocery lists, research papers - and so this is a neglected place of old soul thoughts.

Sometimes, though, the written word is not enough. What is inside of you must be spoken, uttered, breaking the silence with small vibrations that are absorbed by another's eardrum or disseminated into the wind. It is why we sing hymns at funerals and why Arabic women wail in mourning.

Last week I stood on the curved slope of our dead-end drive and looked up into the purple afternoon (Georgia is very beautiful in the spring) and just said, "God?" It was a moment in which I felt the rotation of the earth. I felt as if it was turning so steadily that I might be flung into space. I think that Job felt this rotation too when God answered him. God asked where he was when He made the Leviathan, when He formed the foundations of the earth.

I know that there is a life beyond this one, and when I make it there, I will understand. Until then, I will trust and live and breathe in mercy.

March 8, 2010

Spring and Summer

This winter has been like the last party guest left at your house... they've helped clean up, dished on their life problems, taken a nap on the couch, found their keys... and then popped in a movie. What? Get out of here :) Snow, rain, freezing temperatures, and windwindwind. I've been bundled up in a warm house, but the hubs is straight-up sleeping on the ground on camping trips with Uncle Sam.

With the advent of the southern chinook, Anthony and I want to check out the end tip of the Appalachian Trail in Georgia, which is in the northeast region around Springer Mountain. It would be nice to do the entire trail consecutively, but that would require a trust fund, no job responsibilities and an eternal spring. So instead, we are going to do the trail a portion at a time over vacation breaks and long weekends and Saturdays. This is a no-pressure, fulfill at your leisure kind of goal.

(*Update: We received orders to be stationed here at Ft. Benning! Yippee! No moving! I will write more about this development soon*)

Now that I think about it, we have about 6 months left here. Although we still don't know where we're going yet, I need to think about transitioning again. Cardboard boxes. Jobs. Petey in the cab of a moving truck. Time to trust.

Go put on your sundresses. It's almost spring and we can daydream in bright yellow again.

February 1, 2010

Beachy McBeacherton Estates

That's what Anthony and I are going to name our beach house one day... when we have a beach house.

Since I'm now a housewife/grad student/about to be entrepreneur, I decided to share some secrets of my success with my reader audience:

1) Every three or four days, don't be ashamed to rock the pajamas until 10 minutes before your significant other or roommate comes home. Yeah, they mean "I haven't showered yet", but since when is cleanliness next to awesomeness?

2) Develop an intense emotional bond to your email. Check it as if your life depends on it, as least your social life. Also talk to your dog and expect him to respond, as he will.

3) If nothing else, make the bed.

4) Pray! And then write your paper.

5) Don't eat all the snacks in the house unless they are celery sticks and hummus. WiiFit knoooooowwwwws.

In all seriousness, I'm having fun with school and dresses and my little hermit life. So wherever you are, my dear readers, stay in your pajamas as long as you possibly can because before you know it, you are back again in the suit.

Ta ta for now.

109

The last surviving WWI veteran celebrates his 109th birthday today. Cpl. Frank Buckles was a 16-year-old Army ambulance driver somewhere along the European front. The West Virginian boy must have seen the full wrath of the new refinements of steel, power and nationalist zeal.

The 20th century fascinates me - its revolutions, advances and sins. Buckles is witness to two World Wars, boom times, conflcts in southeast... and southwest Asia, the civil rights movement, and hopefully many decades of peaceful existence with his family.

Many did not come home with Buckles, especially British boys, like sons of Sir Doyle and Rudyard Kipling. I do not think I will ever understand this type of interrupted silence, except to accept that war is a permanent fixture in our world.

January 29, 2010

LOOOOOOOOOOOST!

The Tuesday que viene. Anthony is going to be "in the field", so I'm being nice and waiting until he gets back to watch it.

I need to know:

-If Juliette died.
-If Sun and Jin will ever be reunited.
-If any more Dharma food will be eaten.
-If we get to see Clementine again.
-Does Kate end up with Jack or Sawyer? I say Jack.

Yay! Excited.

January 25, 2010

Take a map and point to anywhere.

Where to next? Do we pull the trigger or wait for the pick-up sticks to leave the hand?

I pray for Haiti and wonder about the extreme reconstruction. In a single day, the nation moved from "weak" to "failed" -- by political standards. God doesn't play by those rules, though.