im feeling homesick.

today dr. bob compared regular eating to driving along the highway in texas. 

he said, can you tell me the difference between mile 209 and 541? no? well, that's what regular eating is like--it all kinda looks the same.

yes. texas is flat. and much of it looks the same. and it's not exactly scenic (well, not always). 

but oh how i'd love to see the bluebonnets growing along the highway right now.

as best as i can tell

this image is by Darrell Gulin/Corbis

(i found it using google image search--the larger

version is even more beautiful, find it here)

about *him*

last week i found the following:

After working a fundraiser at Mongolian BBQ -complete with the cheap hat, apron tied around his armpits (he's tall), and hair curling in every direction from the heat of the grill-- he gave me the slow look over, winked, and said "you know you like a man in uniform."

He dresses for his own entertainment. He showed up at my door wearing a pink paisley tie, vest, and a newsies cap. And he looked good.

I was falling asleep leaning against a wall- waiting for his friends to decide which bar to go to. He opened his arms and gave me a look. I stared at him blankly. "HUG ME." I walked up to him and dropped my head into his chest as he wrapped his arms around me. One of his friends commented that technically, I still wasn't hugging him. "I know. This is hug rape."

Last summer, he was bored. He then completed the Burning River 100 Mile Endurance Run. During the run, he hallucinated and a saw miniature horse and then a koala bear waving at him.

He gave me dancing lessons in Kohls. The dances included tango, waltz, and polka (to name a few). I think the polka was his favorite.

He once asked me if I would like to smell Egypt. I now know what Egypt smells like. There were no bodily functions involved.

After he does anything especially dorky- he'll look over at me, make sure he has my attention, then say, quite seriously, "you like me" while pointing at his chest. He thinks he's reminding me... like I could've forgotten.

i found it here, on technical support. isn't it perfect? it's entitled "about *him*"--doesn't *him* sound delicious?

it prompted the following letter:

dear husband-to-be,

i would like to smell egypt.

love,

you-know-who

fizzy water and twizzlers

It's raining here in New York. Raining so, that suddenly--for the first time--the phrase cats and dogs seems perfectly apt, but don't ask me what it means.

Edith Piaf is playing in the background (as she must when it rains). And I'm drinking diet coke (heretofore known as fizzy water) and eating twizzlers as I recover from a beast of a chest cold (hence my unusually prolonged blog world absence). This chest cold--cough and all (and I never get a cough) is most likely punishment for weathering the entire (yes the entire) winter season in near perfect health. It is also a product of allergies, the present day Greek mythological curse. Present day Greek mythological curse, you ask? Remember the story of Tantalus (that's okay, I didn't either and it took me a good thirty minutes of searching the web to find the following)... Well he chopped up his son and attempted to serve him to the Gods,

"Tantalus's punishment, now proverbial for temptation without satisfaction (the source of the English word "tantalizing"[10]), was to stand in a pool of water beneath a fruit tree with low branches. Whenever he reached for the fruit, the branches raised his intended meal from his grasp. Whenever he bent down to get a drink, the water receded before he could get any (Wikipedia)." 

My point is, the Gods gave us Spring to behold in all it's glory and yet it's near impossible to do (to behold) through bleary eyes and a running nose--it's like reaching down to drink the water and finding it gone.

It took me so long to find the Tantalus story that I've completely forgotten the original idea for this post. 

But.

This much I'll say (in the spirit of the rain),

I have been dreaming of English countrysides as of late. I love the rain. Desperately, I love it. The sound of it, the mystery. It's always struck me as a cloak for magic in the world. But rain in New York can be trying. Travel here undoubtedly involves being outside. No car to garage to house scenarios. And showing up to auditions or the work-place waterlogged is not always ideal. But in the English countryside, in the warmth of a house, where the doors and windows would stay open all day long (no threat of burglars or mosquitos) and the cool drops would stain the edge of the stone floors...can you imagine? Giant windows, thrust open. Shutters. And big doors. Big, wooden doors. Extra wide--an invitation to precipitation. Shorts and Wellies, a uniform of choice. And thunder, the rolling music of Mother Nature (a thing so rare in New York that tonight my roommate confused a glorious few thunder rolls for the fighting of our landlords overhead, a much more commonplace occurrence). Mmmm, a girl can dream.

And in other news when I was laid up in bed (the cold) I wandered over to facebook's networked blogs and attempted to register this little blogspot lover of mine. I found it had already been done. By an anonymous facebook follower. Well, thank you anonymous facebook follower. You're description of my blog as "real-life" and "writing" seems spot-on and tickled my flattery-bone to no end. So if facebook is anyone else's thing and you wish to follow me there, I'm adding a link to the side. Plus, I need nine people to confirm that I am in fact the writer of this blog so if you could do that, many thanks would be owed. 

Photos found on {this is glamorous} (slightly altered).

mmm. sunday.

i beg you...to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. don't search for the answers, which could not be given you now, because you would not be able to live them. and the point is, to live everything. live the questions now. perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.

rainer maria rilke

i love sundays. the solitude. the quiet. the time to contemplate and revel in and love the questions. 

i'm about to crawl back into bed with a good book. 

perhaps my questions will be reflected on the pages and in the lives of not-so-ordinary characters. 

sunday perfection.

photo by Cig Harvey found at una bella vita

a deal with God.

I have an irrational fear of throwing-up. 

The possibility brings on something of a panic-attack.

So when I woke up this morning and thought that I might...first I lied on the cool wood floor of my bedroom and prayed. Then I moved to the tile floor next to the toilet and prayed. I splashed some cool water on my face and made a deal with God. 

It went something like this, Dear God, I promise I will never again drink. Please just don't let me get sick. Not only will I not drink, I'll never again misuse this wonderful body you gave me. 

{more water on face}

{more prayer}

And slowly it was revealed that my prayer was answered. The shaking subsided. And color drained back to my face.

So if the next time we go out for drinks and I get water, know this...I've made a deal and I fully intend to stick to it. All healthy food into the body shall go. 

The ridiculous thing is that I only had two glasses of wine last night. That's it, just two. But I'm a light drinker and the last three times I've had anything at all have resulted in bad experiences. Prosecco, as much as I love it, has been crossed off the list entirely. Wine itself, may be next. 

But Gottino was lovely and I'd highly recommend it.