bubbly.

last night after a long day i came home to find a lovely thank you note from my soon to be cousin-in-law (though it feels more like sister-in-law and i love that feeling).

melissa wrote:

thank you so much for the champagne flutes. it was very fitting as you may not know, but brian and i hope to one day drink champagne like the fee's. and i don't mean quantity, but rather any occasion is a good occasion!

and i thought, gosh, do we drink champagne that often? (ironic, in that a friend and i had just had dinner in the west village and champagne was the drink of choice).

but then i smiled.

goodness, i sure am glad to come from stock that considers any occasion a reason to celebrate.

life is sweet and champagne is good.

the pile. by my bedside.

here's a question:

if i'm partway into all of these books, am i actually reading any of them?

maybe it's time to just choose one and go from there. find some focus, perhaps?

fresh air.

this morning found me in central park with little zoobie (my very dearest sixteen-month-old friend).

we pointed out all the ruff-ruffs (dogs) and made fish-faces upon coming to the pond. the carriage horses elicited long neighs which led to a detailed discussion of all other animals sounds. both of us noshing on our bianca (pizza bread) all the while.

and when my phone rang little zoobie looked up and asked, mamma?

i laughed, looked at the screen and said, yes, but my mamma.

i spoke briefly to my mother, aware of the little girl in front of me.

we spoke of oscar dresses. and who we thought looked best. and work. and guys. and how tricky that can be. and somewhere in our oh-so-brief-but-all-encompassing conversation my mother gave me the best advice of my life.

let me preface:

you see i've been a bit batty of late. working extra hours. and trying desperately to survive the last throws of winter and the inefficiency of the mta (ny's mass transit system). and feeling the need for a change but not knowing what that change need be. and if i haven't said it before, let me say it now, i do not. deal well. with uncertainty. and i suppose that's what i've been feeling: uncertainty. winter becoming spring. paying jobs taking back seats to pipe dreams. new adventures and necessary good-byes.

so my mother in her infinite wisdom said... (are you ready for this?)....(wait)...okay:

relax.

she chuckled and told me to relax.

and with that one word i felt my entire chest open up.

the tight coil sprang loose and my shoulders fell into place and i could breathe. and laugh.

and not take myself too seriously.

and space arose where before there was none.

perhaps it was the weather. and the little girl in front of me. and the trees overhead. perhaps it was all those things. because this morning that one word was like fresh-air in some damn tired lungs.

shared silence.

they walked side by side, her arm slipped awkwardly through his, the quiet transporting them to separate worlds.

overhead streetlights pulsed quickly--continuously, illuminating each of the thousand unanswered questions.

and it was there, amidst the questions and the silence and the faint glow of uncertainty, that she first wondered whether to silently un-slip her arm--to stop moving--to stand still and watch as the slow world's current quietly carried him away.

but she continued on. in an effort to match the unnatural cadence--to find a silence they could share.

{ps: regularly scheduled programing begins again. tomorrow.}

the question.

he was too far gone to be taken seriously--the question mark at the end of the bar.

but she felt alone and out of place and he made her giggle.

and he asked her what no one before had,

did she want to be beautiful?