holiday decorations have returned to my little corner of the island.
which means one thing:
i spend my days wondering when my daniel-day-lewis-of-a-canadian-tree-farmer will arrive on 181st just east of fort washington and i might get myself a little holiday cheer.
i'm gonna level with you. i'm a little bit granola.
and the promise of a week in boulder, colorado (or just outside it) come next tuesday has me breathing a bit easier.
a week of nothing but jeans, dansko clogs, zip-up sweaters, shopping at the spacious whole-foods (as only colorado can produce), family, good food, laughter, morning hikes followed by morning coffee runs, cool-fresh-mountainous air: all respite for the soul.
and then there's thanksgiving. my favorite holiday. something about the glow of a dining room against the quickly-darkening november sky. the people you most love convened in one room offering up gratitude for the gift of one more year.
i'm actually counting down the days...
it would have made more sense had it snuck up on me. had it been a slow, gradual kind of thing--approaching from a distance with blinking lights and low whistles.
but alas.
i was in the middle of the restaurant, navigating between tables and people and moving trays on the busiest night of the week when it happened. i stopped. i just stopped, planted my feet and puased.
and there amidst the swarming and moving, time reached elastically around me and i thought, my god, what am i doing?
it was such a simple thought. so clear and emotionless. it was as factual as a thought can be. a fraught-less though, if you will.
and there, paused in the middle of the restaurant in my own sphere of space and time, i thought enough. enough of this.
i have set up my life in such a way as to pursue that which i love. and yet the pursuit has stalled. for fear.
fear. oh, fear.
fear and i are well acquainted. bosom buddies, you might say.
it's just... well, the thing is... fear no longer seems a strong enough deterrent.
because that which i love may not always be clear. and it may not always be easy. but it certainly isn't sashaying to tables in a short black dress hoping that the men don't look too long in the wrong direction.
and so the thought simply was.
(almost as if it had been there all along, just waiting for me to catch up.)
i got home from a long day of work yesterday at an hour nearing nine. and i was meant to do laundry. but i couldn't find the card that would allow me to use the machines. and not one of the three dvd players i tried would play my exercise video. so i settled for another night all together--one that would be highly unproductive.
i was feeling a bit guilty about all that i had eaten, but attempted to banish those thoughts. i opted instead for forgiveness--reminded myself that some days a person eats more than others.
so i settled into the red armchair in the living room, took in a little bit of the thursday night line-up, put some tomato soup on the stove, asparagus in the oven, and toasted a bit of bread to enjoy with my hummus.
and i gave thanks for the end of the day, for an early and imminent bed-time, for good food to nourish my body, and the promise of thanksgiving just a few weeks away.
and for asparagus. isn't it just the loveliest vegetable you've ever seen? i like to cook it up in the oven with a little oil and top it off with some chili pepper flakes. yup, i like a little kick.
i'm off this morning to get in some physique before a long day of work. i am realizing that not one of my jobs encourages healthy eating habits so my goal for today is to be kind to myself and my body. and look forward to the promise of a light saturday.
i had a phone call to make this week. a little one. not the end of the world.
but i'm not so great on the phone. so the whole idea of it terrified me.
i was standing on 57th, shaking in my boots, on hold, when i looked up at the building across the street.
it was glass. and as the sun dove into it, it reflected another building. and something about the meeting of the two--the stone and blue and brilliance of it made me think of rome.
and i took a deep breath wishing desperately i was in the eternal city.
but then i thought, life would be scary in rome too. hell, life is scary everywhere.
and there was something simultaneously exhilarating and unbelievably comforting about that realization.
life is scary everywhere. that's just part of the deal.
