I have:

(a list)
The radio on.
A slight hangover.
Dolly Parton on my arm.
A stupid crush.
Purple shampoo.
New running shoes.
Talented friends.
A messy bedroom.
Too many pairs of socks.
No food in my fridge.
My window open.
No clothes on right now.
Two fun jobs.
An obsession with silk.
Good ideas.
Dog envy.
Patience (sometimes).
Diamonds on the soles of my shoes.
Fun.
Strong arms to hold you.
Coffee in my system.
Many, many foibles.
Legs, lips and boobs.
A good family.
One foot out the door.
Two brains.
Three paycheques to deposit today.
An irrational desire for $600 shoes.

--
Sent from my mobile device

Sometimes the stars seemed so far away.

I know I have written about this before, but it is on my mind this morning. And it's important.
For years I thought they were my flowers. But they're totally not.
They're Nancy's flowers.
I feel like having them on my little kitchen table brings me closer to this woman that I didn't even really know as a real, whole person with
stories and faults and humour. She was my aunt, and our bond is that she died on my birthday.
It is my favourite part of my birthday.
The celebration layered with something somber. It's entirely beautiful. It's humbling. I know that I don't deserve it. At all.
I love being part of the remembering. I hope that I accept these flowers with sufficient grace. How did I manage to be on the recievin end of all that love? With something so tangible and fragrant and lovely.
I am honored. Deeply.
It is actually beyond my understanding. But then, it's death and flowers and love and mystery. I don't think I'm supposed to understand it.
So thanks Becky, for cracking my heart open. Sorry it took me so long to see these flowers as more than flowers.
Incidentally, this year's bouquet is the most beautiful one I have ever had.

"Rough seas, they carry me, where ever I go."
-Josh Ritter

I love this line of music. It speaks. We expect that peace alone will carry us. But there is bouyancy in choppy water too. And movement.
We may be lost, and sick over the side. The point is that we are carried.
And next time we'll read about stars and pack some gravol.
So don't worry.

On unanswered texts.

It's a freefall; the space between 'yes' and 'no'.

HOW ART WORKS? - a serious movie about problems and solutions.

"I can do some good here." -Chaplin

PARIS in the springtime. Ballet flats with jeans. Lipstick. Sunny
noses. Apertifs.
Crippling insecurity, which I hope is due to my oncoming period. These
days are so good at making you ugly and needy and like you're being
leftout of life.
The Mysterious Benedict Society.
Catsitting for a week. Netflix, alright!
Making weird into good (I hope! becasue I don't like weird. Ever.) It
only takes cinnamon hearts.
No nailpolish for a week. I like my naked nails.
Ukulele. The only song I know is "Hard Times Come Again No More".
Discovering that I sing.
Majorly inconveiniant, super annoying, tunnel visioned, crushes on
guys who are slow or blind or not into it but won't say so. See me
already.
Weird, weird, food.
Sherlock Holmes.
Flappers.
Meetings about Oak Trees.
This feeling of urgency to put it out there. Go and be wise. Do and
Make. Laziness. I can do it tomorrow.
Two brains always at war.
Being too old for shows where there isn't a working toilet.
Feeling ok naked.
Learning to sew and finish and iron all my seams.

For Carman (the big d-uh)

When we first met, I didn't know what to think. You had this pineapple
haircut, and wore eyeliner sometimes. You were older, and rock-er, and
intimidating. Then you quoted "Jump" lyrics at me, and I liked you.
The years our little friendship have seen are sweet. You might think
that's not very tough, but it's true.
I have seen you through some crazy times, and eating fads. Like when
we were roomates (still my favourite) and you went through your
edamame and grapefruit phase. It was weird. And you would call me at
work tell me to bring you chillie.
I have worried about you sometimes.
You have made me laugh other times.
Lately, a new thing has entered in. Pride. I am proud to call you
friend. I love our pancakes times. Or sitting at Crab Park with our
books working on our suntans.
And now your story is unfolding in this really amazing and beautiful
way. You are stepping up to the plate. You are thrust into a place
where love is being requested of you, and you are giving it freely.
Like a man.
I am so excited to see what happens next.
Aren't you?
I am excited to be at your wedding. To celebrate love with you and
beautiful Lana.

Things to remember.

When you bought Chanel nailpolish for me on the day my boyfriend moved away.
When I would pop by your house on the way home from work with a cold beer.
When we would run to the pool and swim and talk about relationships. I
became your secret keeper.
When you convinced me to take the train to Wanssee and we got caught
in that amazing snow.
When we sit quietly together, doing crosswords and reading books.
When we dance.
When we went for dinner and made big plans to live on farm on the east
coast, and raise our families together.
When walking home late at night, we got to spilling our hearts open,
stuck for twenty minutes on that triangle of sidewalk at Kingsway and
Fraser.
When we take long walks on the North Shore. You, me , and the dogs.
When you met me at the airport.
When you wrote my name in the snow, because I've never been able to.
When we meet for coffees and run down our week. Unafraid to cry in JJ Bean.
When we run into each other right at the right time. When our full
hearts need to be heard.
When we laugh so hard we cry, and laugh some more.
When you send me love texts late at night after you've had a few.
When we always order the spicy cactus roll together.

Little things.

How do you know if anything you make is any good?
I spent all day writing a little story.
I like it, I am happy with it, I want to do something out of it. But
for the past few hours I have really been wondering if it's good.
Like good, good. Like people could spend money on it good.
I don't think I've ever made or done anything that I thought some one might buy.
I need about 20 totally unbiased opinions.

"We must face tomorrow, whatever it may hold with determination, joy,
and bravery."
-Mr. Magorium