over and up.


i'm sitting her looking out at the mountains. from where i sit at my borrowed, wooden desk they eclipse my window completely. and in turn swallow me whole.

these are the mountains facing east. new york lies beyond them. and believe me when i say, that metaphor is not lost on me.

there was never any doubt about this. this little expedition i'm on. there were concerns and moments of terror, yes. but that divinely-inspired voice that lives right there in my gut was very clear. go, it said. go, and life will unfold, you'll see. trust me, it ever so calmly pressed into me. wrapped me in its message.

and so here i am.

but even with God's blessing or goodwill or what have you, i wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and wake up three months from now. i longed to nod my head once and with the genie's blink become the person i'd been promised at the end of all this.

i just didn't want to have to do the necessary work to get there.

but the mountains, of course. and their all powerful metaphor. a gigantic mountain range between me and the life i once lived. or the life i will live. or the life i dream of living.
this eruption of green plopped right there. right in front of me.

when i was little we'd take road trips through the western united states. and my mom would always say, imagine how the pioneers did it. how did they do it?

and the thing is i sure as hell don't know. those covered wagons. entire families in tow. rocky terrain. leaving behind all that is known, not only heading toward a new future, but carving out a never before seen path along the way. can you even imagine? the courage of it. startling.

the only way over the mountain before me is up. one small step in front of the other. a metaphorical tapping in to my own inner pioneer.

so okay. here goes...



a letter, indeed.




this morning in my inbox i found this lovely little message from my old friend, sam.


Dear Meg Fee,

Do not become an adult. I repeat, do not become an adult. I can tell you that I take my hat off (when I wear one) before I sit down at the dinner table. Heck, once I enter a building.
But I am not an adult, simply, I perform actions that fool the world into thinking I am an adult, when truly - I am not.

At somepoint I'd like to get coffee with you and see if you still dream of the woods of new england.

Love,

Sam





it was in response to this

i copied it into my notebook because it tickled me to no end. and, because i think he might just be right.



sam was one of the first guys i ever fell really, really hard for (i was just entering high school). and maybe the only one i ever fought with another girl over. 

that being said, new england woods...i don't know what he's talking about...

i love this yogurt, i love this yogurt, i love this yogurt




i don't like yogurt. it has just never been my thing. most especially i hate the yogurt with actual fruit chunks (and keep in mind i eat almost anything, so this is saying a lot). 

but this morning i made the oh-so-very-adult decision to eat my dan active yogurt and pumpkin flax cereal. 

i believe you can learn to love things you once hated.

when i was little and i didn't like to do something (let's say math) my mom would say, "i love the 500, i love the 500, i love the 500"

the 500, you ask? you're confused, i understand. does anyone remember Dan Jansen? he was this speed skater who endured tragedy after tragedy--a speed skater who could never seem to win that elusive gold medal, or any medal for that matter. and he hated the 500 meters. with a passion. so he would repeat, "i love the 500, i love the 500, i love the 500" and do you know what...his last race, his very last one, ever...the 500...he won it.

that is the story as i remember it. wikipedia has a different idea of how things went down (the seem to think he won the 1,000), but that's neither here nor there (though there version is pretty good too).

guess what ned? i love the 500, i love the 500, i love the 500







and all that makeup, 
in the picture?
i know. but i had to
work for the makeup company
today and they like you to wear
quite a bit. quite a bit, indeed.