i almost ran over a peacock today.

in

i was driving home from the coffee shop today (okay, starbucks {but doesn't it sound more glamorous if i say the coffee shop}) and there on one of the backstreets of my neighborhood was a gorgeous male peacock. feathers all ablaze and aglow.

i cursed myself for not having my camera in my purse just about the same time i slammed on the brakes (okay, okay, i didn't slam, i'm a pretty good {read: careful} driver so i saw it far enough in advance, but the story is better if slamming occurs).

i'd not ever seen a peacock in the neighborhood before.

yes, when i was in fourth grade there were those two that lived several neighborhoods over and we used to drive in search of them after school. and then there was that one school in dallas that seemed to have several that would mill about campus. but none before had been spotted in mine OWN neighborhood.

this must be a very good sign.

god it's good to be home.




{this post brought to you with much love by what now appears to be a brain made of something akin to mush.}


one last performance.

in

closing learly

it is my last day here in utah.

i am busy cleaning and packing and washing and post office-ing and the like.

i have had such a lovely time. have loved getting to meet so many of you. and have learned more than i ever imagined--in fact i imagine i'll be sifting through what i learned here for many, many months to come.

but words cannot express how grateful i am to return to texas tomorrow. to spend ten glorious days sleeping in my four-posted bed. to cook meals with my mother and sit with both my parents on the living room floor as we watch the u.s. open.

and then back to new york. to a life i have worked very hard to build. to a life i am breathlessly grateful for. to subways and roommates and early mornings and the hudson just out the window.

but before i go. there is one last performance tonight. one last chance for me to feel like i've sunk into this tremendous character of juliet (i don't feel like i've gotten it yet--close, but not quite). it's in memorial park (just off of center street in provo) at 7 and i'd so love for you to come. there is nothing like seeing your beautiful faces in the audience. nothing like meeting you after. so bring a blanket, bring some food, and know that we really do begin right at 7 (we're surprisingly prompt in this regard!).

and give me a chance to say thank you and good bye.

in




"It would be possible to describe everything scientifically, but it would make no sense; it would be without meaning, as if you described a Beethoven symphony as a variation of wave pressure."

albert einstein



almost there.

in

this morning i awoke.


and i hurt.

everywhere.

as though i had managed to sleep funny. all-over.

as though i had just run a marathon. climbed a mountain. pushed my body to the limits of extremity.

my friend anne said it's probably stress resolving itself. surfacing before it exits the body.

perhaps it is knowing that this (this utah adventure of mine) ends tuesday morning. knowing that this adventure which was harder than i ever dared imagine--that this adventure which forced more questions than answers--this adventure which revealed thousands of new things--this forced-boil--is almost over.

it has been impossible. this adventure. i'm not going to lie and say it has been anything less than impossible. and for i who lean toward the histrionic, this statement does not even approach hyperbole.

but it has been an adventure. of that i am sure. and for that i give thanks as i slowly and quietly massage the pain up and out, up and out.