Its not you its me...

How is anyone expected to be as happy in the winter as they are in the blissful, bird songed, green leafed days of summer? And in many ways recent changes make me believe that I am as happy and more so, though my cold feet and numb fingers don't tend to share the same assumption.

Anyway, I'm spending my night with two lesbo cocker spaniels, Deliliah and Midge, the depressing edith piaf move "la vie en rose", a bottle of wine, some double layered socks and the sweatshirt that I haven't dared to take off in days.

So, this is my life in pink. That is to say, pink cheeks, pink nose, pink hands.
"La vie en frostbite".

Seriously people. 18 layers and frozen streets and boots that draw blood from my ankles? Gusts of ice that pierce my corneas? Bruised knees and aching wrists? Why on earth do we deal with this every year?

I go to bed with a Nalgene of hot water every night, poor substitute for some man's hairy legs. Much harder to warm my toes AND my arms with just one water bottle. I wonder if they make ho- water-fillable body pillows? If so, I am willing to pay the price.

Oh, and Happy Holidays and all that jolly crap!

Updates from the right side of the river...

Hidee Ho! It is already December 6 and I have no idea where the last month has gone. 'Tis the season , as the cliche goes, it rings true as the annoying Salvation Army jinnglers in Harverd Square.
Life has been hectic but really good. I am so happy to be settled in my new apartment in Davis Square. I love the location, being in the Cambridge/Somerville scene makes so much more sense for me and I feel much more at home here than I ever could have in Brookline. Here there are artistic hipsters in my age bracket that are not married and/or working at Fidelity downtown. Davis has everything I could want except for the majestic convienience of a Trader Joe's a few steps from my doorway. Alas, the sacrifice was necessary and so far have not starved for lack of pizza dough in my fridge.
I've actually only stayed in my new apartment half of the nights since I've moved in. I have more pet sitting jobs this month than I really would like. Julie already feels abandoned, but I am making some extra money that should help off set the rent hike that I've taken on.
We've had some fantastic and fun visitors so far, and I'm looking forward to hosting many a laughter filled nights here... and plans are in the works for a housewarming party in mid January.

Old friends...

Well, she isn't that old. Not yet 31 actually.
And I haven't even known her for more than two years.
But she is one of the best and most sparkling people in all of my life.

Now I am anxiously waiting for her cab to pull her up to my doorstep.

Tara, aka "HUNEEEEE!!!", not so direct from London, via NYC!!!!

Dreaming

Part One.

Sometimes
we talk about them,
never of interest
to anyone
other than ourselves.

I've met you all,
from those who claim
“I don't”

(Each night,
your breathing ,
even
in
out
in.)

I know the way
between the spaces.

To those who claim
“Crazy cheese dreams!”

(Some Gouda or
Extra Sharp
New Zealand
Grass Fed
Organic,
Rennetless
Baby Goat's Teet
Cheddar,
to pair with

the creative juices

on which we flow...)

And be it sober or
floating.

In a dirty dishpan
of whiskey
and wine

I say,

Your dreams are
Slumbering
out of consideration,

(whispering, “we can be far too polite”)


Part Two.

I've been sleeping.


Easily, and
far too much.


Last night a twelve month old told me,
“I know I am much more articulate
than you would expect,
given my age.”

And I laughed.

Because it made too much sense.

Part Three.

I lost my dreams once.

After buses and trains.

After all movement ended.

Each page of my daily living,
cheated,
and wind swept.

I indulged in fondue, and
diversions.

I let my body be touched

by anyone who would dare,

And still each night,
would sigh, in prayer,
and frustration;

My friends,
My dreams,

Where are you?

Part 4.

Now

I am waiting for the day

When you

Will eat breakfast

With me.

The newest idea...

Milan?

And not in any way to detract from the previous post...

I was walking home yesterday and passed a decapitated pigeon on the sidewalk in residential Brookline.

It was grotesque.

This is strange, right? I mean giant turkeys and headless pigeons?

I think Davis Square will be a good change.

Today was a very good day.

My very dear friend got me a very sweet new RIDE... complete with lock, pump and two lights! Two! I am so excited! I rode home in record time, not because I was in a hurry but just because I could. What a difference! I would rather put myself in front of angry Boston drivers than sit beside another bored, tired working man or woman struggling to keep their eyes open on the infuriatingly inefficient, depressing , smelly T.

I am so grateful and lucky to have all these beings walking in and out of my various loopy paths...

K

PS. I apologize for the excessive use of the exclamation point. I know this bothers everyone, including myself, but well, it had to be done.

Blibbery Hide

Something is not right...

Its after 2 in the morning. I am out of wine and so am eating strawberry licorice and spending too much time looking at the facebook pages of people I was never friends with in high school. The T ride home took over an hour. 'Last train' apparently means we will wait at each stop for 30 minutes for NO ONE ELSE. I almost lost my shit. I almost became one of the crazy people. I seriously considered it and acted out each mini psycho-scenario in detail in my mind.
Maybe I am spending too much time in Central Square in the company of the insane.
Maybe three days off is more necessary than luxurious.

So I lost my wallet,

Again. This seriously happens to me on average 1.5 times a year. It is sad to say that I have gotten used to it. My new puppy gigs and bi weekly tips allows me to carry more cash around, so my semi expensive night out to watch the final game of the world series (go sox!) turned into a very expensive night out. And it wasn't even one of those really drunk, left it in the bar sort of scenarios. Nope, I paid for the cab home and somewhere in that transaction of handing over 15 bucks, opening the cab door, and walking across the street, I lost my little black wallet, with credit cards, a $20 full charlie card, library card, and about $80 in cash. Ho diddily hum.

Bostonians have proved their worthiness in the past with my lost wallets. One man had found my tiny cloth wallet in the sleet and slush of Davis Square where it had fallen out when I ran in to return a movie. He called every possible number he could imagine to try to find me. UNH, the library in NH and eventually found my parent's home number. I received a call at work saying that he had my wallet and would I like it if he dropped it off for me at work! He did, this lovely lovely gentleman who would not take a penny for his efforts.
And again, in Cambridge a few years back, I received my wallet a week after it was lost in the mail, sent to my parent's address in NH. (I really should get a Mass licence this time around I suppose) with a kind note saying it was found on their front stoop.

So, not all Bostonians are bike thieving assholes.( Though a lot of them are! My poor sister just had her bike stolen from her front porch the same night I lost my wallet!GRRR)

Anyway, what have I learned from all this?
Not to be a moron.
Not to take cabs.

Or perhaps the universe is trying to teach me a more valuable lesson? Perhaps I am supposed to learn that stuff and money are not important and by freeing me of these material burdens I will gain a clearer and more precise understanding of humanity?

Or something.
I still miss my bike.

Belfast, N Ireland

She
is
frantic
water.

Daughter,
why do you sigh this way?
Impatiently
leaning left
arms crossed
weighting
your breath
as you reach for
your own hands
behind
your razored
shoulder blades.

Tell me that story
of the snowflakes
melting.
Tell me how,
in tall rubber boots
she danced in the puddles
of what once
was whole
and beautiful.

Tell me
that the ripples
she made
sent waves
to the other side of the world
so tremendous
that only the few
and brave
would dare to ride and then
they crashed on houses
and smothered schools!

Or
maybe,
she just muddied
the entryway
to her home
in small sleet drooling,
independent
steps.

Icelandic chocolate for breakfast again

Julie and I went to the Barack Obama rally in the Boston Common on Tuesday. It had been a while since either of had paid any attention to anything going on in the honest world of politics. After so many years of Bush bullying, it seems important that we turn our chins up and try again. I mean, there are few people that are less patriotic than me, but as Julie said, "I feel a little too old to not know anything about the candidates."
The rally was interesting. I am not necessarily an Obama supporter, but wanted to hear what he was all about. I thought Deval Patrick's introduction speech was better written than Obama's, but that really just says something about their individual speech writers. Barack is indeed the charismatic man of the people that I had heard he was ( and by man of the people, apparently that means it is OK for him to make common grammatical speech mistakes... "We're doing good!"... ugh.) Of course everything was unsurprisingly hopeful and there were promises for a better tomorrow through extremely vague means.
Now I have the daunting task of checking out the rest of those political freaks.

In other news; I've been eating a lot of chocolate and am about to bake ginger snaps. I will hear this week if I got the apartment that I want so badly in Davis Square. The Sox won game one of the world series.

China Map

I was worn out, lost, and sixteen
in China at 6 p.m., everyone
suddenly in a purchasing frenzy,
when he stopped me with a smile
that just turned me upside down:
gold caps on one side, gaps on the other.
I could tell he was more human
than most people, or more kind.
He was old the way everyone is old
when you're sixteen: maybe fifty, or seventy.
I had passed through the village of pork,
the village of shoes, the village of cotton shirts
and linen. Each few blocks the commodity
changed, the sounds and smells trans-laundered
the air you walked in. He held out to me
a section of the oddly shaped fruit
with a rough, nubbly green rind,
smooth amber glistening inside,
a taste divine, beyond my tongue.
He was a busy man with buyers,
we were smack at the core of the village
of fruit. All of his globes were selling.
I was a ready target, fanning out
the colored bills, raising my brows.
He looked at my hotel's card,
looked into both of my eyes, as if to say
it was going to get dark fast,
and sat us down on two crates side by side,
and stopped his hawking then to draw,
in deft, meticulous detail, a map
to get me back: the splashing fountain
with the fish inside the osprey's mouth,
the statue of the sword-bearing giant,
the dog-legging street that led
to a cat's-paw alley just before the really
sharp turn. When he drew an intersection,
the stoplight had all three circles
with diagonal hyphens radiating out—
and that fountain! He spent a lot of time
making it sparkle on the paper bag
under his knife-sharpened, spit-greased pencil.
I remember his ropy hand veins working.
I remember this fruit I carried back
to my hotel and up the stairs, glowing and round
like the truth. Like the globe of the truth
of everything in the whole wide world.
I didn't know how to go about eating it
when I got back to my room:
no knife, no dish, no napkin.
I sat and watched it ripen in the dusk,
breathing its aroma, which seemed
the antidote to every wrong thing.
In the morning I can't believe I just
left it behind. That fruit.
Also, doubtless, the map.

J. Allyn Rosser

Feet

I find men's feet silly and awkward.

Mold as Art

I've never seen such a lovely colorful display of the common coffee cup mold. The picture does not do it justice. There is even silver mold, now growing on the green mold. I wonder if it will turn into diamonds if I leave it alone.

Seasonal

Those hairs
are so fine.
Silk like baby bird feathers
and I can't help but
ruffle them.
Puff them
like a
chill.

Is it enough
to sit cross legged
cool,
socks to my shins,
watching leaves fall lazily
and think
savage thoughts
of long white thighs?

We [women]
look skyward,
see a face
and hope it's Grace.
If the face is a painting,
if the face is pained
or panting;
we are there.

My wings.
Unnoticed in the trees
below the faces,
and above the sweat
of sheets
unwashed
or words
unspoken.

Autumn,
and the need for
a thousand hands
stroking me
in sleep.
I am stockpiling.
Books,
And plants,

Poetry and
Honey
for the tea
I wish I drank.
More of.
She needs.
Warmth on these lips.
These hands.
These hips.

Immortal Love

Like a door
the body opened and
the soul looked out.
Timidly at first, then
less timidly
until it was safe.
Then in hunger it ventured.
Then in brazen hunger,
then at the invitation
of any desire.

Promiscuous one, how will you find
god now? How will you
ascertain the divine?
Even the garden you were told to live in the body, not
outside it, and suffer in it
if that comes to be necessary.
How will god find you
if you are never in one place
long enough, never
in the home he gave you?

Or do you believe
you have no home, since god
never meant to contain you?

-Louise Glück


*There have been tremendous amounts of poetry penetrating my life of late (written and unwritten). I thought I'd share some of my favorites. L.G's short anthology "Vita Nova" found me at a random salvation type store in northern maine on labor day weekend in 2004 and our meeting was one of those fateful events that change your life. The poem " Mutable Earth" has followed me though many continents and relationships, rifts and valleys. Tonight I returned to her and was surprised at the last lines of her last poem in this anthology. It reads:

I thought my life was over and my heart was broken.
Then I moved to Cambridge.

Mutable Earth

I woke up at 5:15 this morning to get ready for a cold bike ride to work for 6 am. Opening my door in half wakefulness, I blinked several times to see that no, my bike was indeed not where I had parked it the evening before, and no, I still was not dreaming.

My beautiful Fuji Absolut 21 speed, a gift from my dad 15 years ago, of a shimmery teal green the color of emerald seas, has violently been snagged from my doorstep in the middle of the night!

And in quiet, moneyed Brookline of all places...
People suck.

A half full cup of cold tea on a cold night, though, is still a shitty cup o' tea.

But speaking of positive...
I have trouble finding anything redeeming about winter, or pre-winter as this may be. I can barely feel my fingers, have my pjs tucked* into my socks. Am actually wearing socks. To bed, no less.

I will be envisioning the hot burning sand of a Fijean beach as I drift off into a cold slumber tonight.

* My dear friend Tara taught me the art, and value of "tucking". Indeed, she left no corner unshoved, no space unsmothered with another layer of cloth. And she survived in a caravan in the winter of Southern New Zealand. I will thank her endlessly for the lessons she gave me about the priceless practive of tucking in.

The cup half full. Again and again. Until you fall down drunk.

So I've been told that I'm an impressively positive person. That I can reassure people that there is a good to every situation and that, if nothing else, there is something to gain in that there is something to learn. And truthfully I do believe that there must always be something to learn from every painful, scary, life altering, death defying, mud-on-your-shoes, shit-on-your-face, confidence-losing, guilt sodden, lost-in-a cemetery, never-walk-again, penniless, friendless, godless sort of situation.

I can be that annoying person who when someone says,
"Karen, my dog died, I lost my job and found I am pregnant and have herpes."
I would probably come up with something like,
"I'm so sorry! At least now you know not to have unprotected sex with high risk partners while ovulating!"

Or something along those lines.
Anyway, I blame my mother, for always trying to look at the bright side of things. She is excessively positive. Readily willing to admit if something sucks, but also sure to remind me that most hardships are not the end of the world. That people have suffered much worse and that I have no other choice but to deal and move on. She, unlike my dad who would bring me teddy bears and gumby dolls if I was home sick from school, would medicate me with encouraging words like, "You're not that sick, Kare. You'll feel better tomorrow."

And most often, I did.

Anyway, in a half hearted attempt to make myself feel better about the current friend-pain that is slightly tormenting to me, I've decided to come up with the positives of emotional turmoil.

Here is my list:

1. Appetite (un)control. Rather than the foolishness of 'everything in moderation', lately I prefer 'a few good things in excess'. Mostly, I have been surviving on several cups of coffee, interjected with wine and evening binges on bad-for-me foods like potato chips and chocolate. The great thing is that I cannot possibly feel guilty for having a dinner of french fries and Italian cheese if I haven't eaten all day AND I am feeling "emotionally unstable!"
That and I still think I've lost a few old lbs.

2. Emotional Instability. I've actually found that number 2 can help me to justify pretty much everything in terms of careless spending. So I want to spend $128 on new jeans that I don't need because they make my ass look great? Do it! You're going through a lot right now! So I want to go to the movies by myself in the middle of the day and eat an entire bag of popcorn with "butter-like topping" for breakfast, lunch and dinner?( see number 1) Of course you can! You deserve it after all you've been going through! So you want to drink a bottle of wine (again, see number 1) and write poetry and then eat some more cheese while wearing your new jeans? Why not! Italians do this every night!

3. Perspective, mindfulness and appreciation.OK, so admittedly, this may be the best of the three, but truly I can be thankful for the amount of consideration I've given to myself, my family and friends, and to our environments and our exquisite moments of beauty. Right? I mean, the flip side of one's self being in chaotic, confused disarray is to experience pure and honest clarity. Clarity often comes to me in taking myself out of a situation and placing myself in the midst of couple laying happily in each other's arms in the grass, or a child skipping joyfully down the street or a man who reaches out to hold the hand of his wife absentmindedly on the T. There is so much goodness, and love and beauty in our daily lives that I think, overall, my tough times, or yours, are nothing in comparison.

The fruit basket

So I've had the good luck to be able to sleep a great many nights recently in the company of the sweet dog Mia in a cute apartment to myself a few steps away from the Boston Public Gardens and the Esplanade. Staying here, beyond being a nice reflective time to myself, has also made me view the city that I live in as a tourist. I would guess that more than 90% of the daily amblers through the gardens are foreigners, appreciating the city that we all forget to.
In my time walking Mia I've had the chance to see the many flowers, statues and fountains that actually make Boston a worthy place to visit. We have such beautiful space here! Who knew!
And my most favorite observation is the replenishing fruit basket in the stunning angel statue on the corner of Beacon and Arlington. Maybe once a week a mysterious person or persons (or God himself) fill her empty basket with fresh fruit and veg.
The first time I saw the fruit I thought it odd that I hadn't noticed it before, and odder still that it looked so real in comparison to the bronzed woman of the heavens. The next day though, the fruit was gone. I was confused, and a little disappointed by what I considered a child's harmless prank.
Another week later and the fruit reappeared, and disappeared yet again. This was one fiber starved angel.
This morning Mia stubbornly woke me at the rough hour of 6:30, rougher still after a post-3 am bed time. Anyway, this morning her basket was full of apples and a yellow pepper and perhaps a pear.

It warms my heart to know that we live in a city and world that feeds angels.

I return to this picture every few days. The woman haunts me. I wonder if she exists.

And so I will eat blackberries beyond midnight.

And so I will eat blackberries beyond midnight.

These indulgences that further
my understanding of what it is.
A woman.

For example,
I know now
that we once had wings.

That in us still,
is the fluttering of a memory
of a million tiny transparent flaps
of silk fibers
woven together by the hands of our children
spanning a million tireless ages.

That we birth and rebirth ourselves,
And though further from flight,
we know.
We know.

Like we know with each individual
ingested bulb of blackberry juice
we will be feeding
the hope,
of a lonely and wise,
more-than-a-bird.

Buy Music. Be Happy.

Ok, so I like most love the access to music that we have given that we have the correct expensive tools (a computer, the interweb, an ipod and credit card). Surprisingly, I have spent less money than I would have thought on music in the last year given that access is so easy, with the stored numbers and expiration and itunes constantly asking me to buy buy buy! Still, I am not sure where a few of my purchased items have come from. Like the Gorillez songs, that I am not disappointed to have, and still do not remember purchasing. And of course I miss the hours spent browsing the music aisles, but not the frustration in packaging and actual bad cds.
Anyway, I just bought the soundtrack to "Into the Wild" which is entirely done by Eddie Vedde which I have yet to see but have heard good things about. Anyway, Eddie Vedder could be saying the words "moist panties" over and over again and still I would only cringe slightly and might still want to lick his face.
Goddamn his voice is sexy.
And so I feel good, really really good, about the purchase. :)
And I am realizing that spending money, the invisible thing that goes in and out of my invisible accounts is actually quite amusing. And I suppose that this is not an entirely new realization, but seriously, money is such a joke! I made the mistake of looking at my credit card statements yesterday, which haven't really gone up or down in the last 5 years but stayed at a pretty steady $5000 of debt, and wonder how this has affected my daily life. And the point is that it has not. And I am so aware of how irresponsible it is to think this way, but honestly, what is more real than my day to day? And any extra money I earn goes to nice dinners or more bottles of wine or new underware or a trip. I will never pay off my credit cards and I am happy to admit that I do not care.

Television

Strange how you can actually feel your brain rotting with every minute you spend watching boring television shows...
unlike most things, even wine doesn't make it better.

-----
So, it was a good day. It throws me off kilter having just one day off versus two in a row. My "weekend" feels less like a mini vacation and more like a sick day. Still, I managed to accomplish a lot at least in exercise. I walked to some new dogs in the Fenway area that I am going to be hanging out with in a few weeks, then to Coolidge Corner, which unsurprisingly already feels awkward. I then biked back to Boston and walked with Mia to the somewhat disappointing Oktoberfest in Harvard Square. Not so German, and not a sniff of beer, but I did enjoy a delicious dinner with Laura and Andy and Jackthedog at their house. Jack and Mia played amazingly well and Andy's long awaited "Torta Rustica" was worth the wait.
-----

And the emotional week has been peppered with good news too! Tara is coming to visit for Thanksgiving and my mom assured me she would pull out all stops to present the Australian with a true American feast, Esterly style.

Sense and Sensibility

What a good girlie movie.

And I love

The satisfaction of blowing out a candle in one red breath.

Poem

I light a candle
and watch the shadows
of dried flowers
on the wall.

Aren't they supposed to dance,
these shadow plants?
Shouldn't they flicker
in unison
and sympathy
to my bleeding heart?

Lavender.
It figures.
What with the frumpy satin
bridesmaid gowns
and old lady talcum
powders..
I wouldn't expect much
in the way of
compassion.

But the orange balls.
(How else to describe them?)
Of natural fiber and formed
against the
high
and
unjust expectations
of beauty.

I wanted more from you.

Ani, Coltrane, Etta, Miles and randomness...

Our friends, the music we go to when alone we must be, and silent we cannot handle.

It is interesting, the remedies for sore hearts. Mine seem to turn almost immediately to music, and then wine, perhaps peppered with random hugs and bruising. And then more wine.
----------------

And I remind myself that change is good and highly necessary as catalyst to growth. As is challenge.
And so from conflict can come resolution.
Peace most often is recognized after stormy circumstance, etc. etc.

And even though I am afraid to leave my room (man, i've gotta pee) I realize that ultimately, if it comes down to it, I can pee in my closet.

---------

But back to the music, it is not entirely the most appropriate for the situation, but I do think that Etta James' "Mystery Lady: Songs of Billie Holiday" is one of the sexiest, most soulful, yearning, and perfect recordings that ever there was.

It might be blasphemous to say, but I think she sings them better than the Lady herself.
Etta sings like real romance and real love are possibilities and that the hurt ain't so bad. In fact, the opposite... what is real love without all the pain and confusion? ( Ok, so I admit that my experiences may help facilitate this conclusion.)

"I don't know why,
but I'm feeling so sad,
I long to try something
I've never had
never had no kissing
oooh, what I've been missing
lover man
oh where can you be?"

And it is not just about lovers. It is not about men, or women... it is about the truth and yearning in her voice.

Its that it doesn't sound like she is singing a song it sounds like she is singing her heart.

-------------
Is it lazy to buy screw top bottles? Or does it just make more sense? Studies show that cork does nothing to add or diminish flavor and is not an sustainable material...

And bad people don't ever know they are bad, say some.

And what is bad? And what is good?

(a feeling, a feeling)
-------------
I had an amazing eggplant dish at Baraka Cafe in Central Square tonight. I've spent some time on epicurious.com and other Tunisian recipe sites with no real luck finding an adequate recipe, though have found some fabulous ideas for veggie dishes.

I'll keep you posted for the themed dinner parties that I hope to someday host...

------------

I'm returning to Mia tomorrow, the bra eating, sneaker chewing bitch that loves me so fearlessly...

I'll watch
closely
the light
slivered
under your door
like a piece of paper
waiting,

I cannot read
again,
my eyes are blurred
in the smokiness of night
when the rods
(or is it cones)
are working double time
unencouraged, and
under appreciated.

Under the pillow
lay my head
curdled in the fluff
of kamikaze non-geese.
Synthetics to muffle
any noise
that I will not make
anyway.

And I am thinking
of ships,
and the non horizontal
which is the inevitable position
for slumber
and wonder,
Does crooked sleep
lead to crooked
life?

Into the Wild...

The new movie, based on Krackaur's account of Chris McCandless' voyage into the wilderness is nothing in comparison to my outdoor adventures this evening. Wanting more than anything to make it into the woods and be surrounded by trees and leaves rather than people and their filth... I talked my sister into letting me borrow her car for a camping trip. Sickness, a sister in Chicago and poor planning on my part led me to none of the above. However, Laura and Andy did decide to take pity on me and my somewhat urgent need for naturescapes, and invited me for a hike into the wooded wilds of Lincoln, MA.
I'd never been hiking in this area before, but being with Laura, Andy and Jack, their dog, all whom had spent many sunny afternoons exploring the woods and wetlands I followed along happily like a puppy in a new park, noticing little of my surroundings and happily being led into a forested calm. At some point, Andy decided that bushwacking off the trail would bring us closer to, well, something... which eventually led us to nowhere we wanted to be. We walked into Carlisle, along long rural but populated streets and then back into the woods along a trail that we thought could get us back to our parked car. The sun was getting lower in the sky, and we began joking about getting lost in such a small wooded space. After going back and forth on a few more wrong trails our jokes turned less jocular and more, serious.
We eventually made out way to the car, in the dark, with the heroic jack dog by our sides, but tired and happily full of our fun "close call" with the nighttime wilderness. I almost got my camping trip in after all.

Now I am home and drinking hot apple cider with a smidge of rum for effect.
I was told I am to work tomorrow which has completely foiled my well intentioned plan for a vacation weekend, turning it into a mere one day off and 7 day work week, rather than the fabulous and dire time away to refresh myself.

We'll see how long this lasts. Seems I've already made the decision for change.

Never Beaten...

Two gardenias for you...

It has been a strange few weeks in great empty spaces of my head. Tornadoes followed by extraordinary calms, ever wondering when the true storm will hit. I am on guard, boarded, taped and signed, my body in wait for something that I can't quite tap in to. And so my corporeal being submitting to a measly early season cold, despite my stubbornness against it.

Something is going on...

There has been music and tension and hurt feelings and exquisite clarity.

I love when my friends surprise me with poetry and understanding and wisdom.
I love acting in accordance with my conscience.
I love travelers.
I love the idea of love.

I witnessed a memory

I didn't feel well, though had an interesting evening at work. Good people, and the millionaire who predicts my future and calls me radiance and tells me the meaning behind $500 dresses (and I believe every word he says)...
Anyway... tired and throaty and achey-chilled, I passed by the church on the corner of Marion and Harvard and saw two young lovers in the grass. She, barefoot and dancing with moonbeams reflecting off of her grin and he, bearded and serious, singing with his guitar as if the shine of the stars depended on it.
Imagine them both... 10, 30 years from now. With different lovers, new families, a wealth of experiences and friends behind them... thinking back to that moment... dancing and singing on the lawn of a church at 12:30 on strangely warm fall night.

How lovely and happy and real.
-----

And I had a crap filled day, but in my numerous attempts at fresh air and perspective I thought of these two and thanked them for the borrowed joy of their memory.

And then recieved a post card from a kindred spirit in West Jerusalem.

And then a smile from the toothy happy North Korean boy who grins so hard each day that I cannot help but laugh back at him, no matter how sour my mood.

And finally, to cheer myself up officially, I bought $34 of new underwear. (to replace the damage done by Mia)
My sister gets her hair cut when she is distressed. My friends get their nails done. I buy underwear.

Still feeling sick and disgruntled but unsurprisingly much happier in my soul.

I feel great when...

I peel an entire apple in one spiral.

This is not as funny...

Favorite Books

• Never read a book all the way through I'll stick to the King James Bible

The Urban Turkey

Moose and I were taking a leisurely stroll Saturday evening hoping to catch the sunset at the reservoir in Cleveland Circle. He puttered along happily observing his vacation surroundings while Leigh and I did a speed catch up on our lives over the phone. Suddenly I tuned in to my walk and noticed ahead of me there was a strange creature moseying forth along the sidewalk of Beacon Street. After a double take, I realized that this creature was a large wild turkey, maybe 2.5 feet tall, strolling without indication of the slightest anxiety of it being in such a foreign urban landscape.
There were few people around. I stopped to share the moment with another human being, (Moose was not very taken in by the sight) and exclaimed to the first trio of people passing by "Look! Its a turkey! Do you see it?!"I had a strange moment where the trio ignored me and my claims completely, and for a second I believed I had entered a portal into an alternate universe where I was invisible and the cities were populated by strutting fowl.
Alas, they were merely foreigners who did not recognize that my excitement was directed at them and not the dog.

I still did not notice them, or anyone else, blink at the sight of the giant bird...

And wonder now if the sighting was some sort of majestic angel bird encouraging me to send money to PETA or begin campaigning against the unnecessary consumption of poultry in order to ' give thanks.' (Think about all of the turkeys readying themselves for slaughter....!)

"She's got the urge for going so I guess she'll have to go..."

My parents, quite possibly knowing me better than I knew myself at 17, added this Joni Mitchell quote to my high school graduation yearbook baby photo (a charming photo of me with "My First Barbie"). I think I had been going through a Joni phase then, which I haven't quite left. Now Joni is played by myself and others far too frequently at the coffee shop in one of the many early morning play lists which will be put on every day because we are too sleepy to remember the names of any other artists. Too often the "folky rocky bluesy am stuff" is on when I get to work at 8, and day after day I will hear the same Joni, Bob Dylan, Billy Bragg, Ray Lamontagne and Neil Young songs so that by 9:30 I want to chuck scalding hot coffee into people's faces while singing Dylan's "ONE MORE CUP OF COFFEE FOR THE ROAD, BITCH? CREAM OR MILK IN THAT YOU, UGLY SKINNY BASTARD! GET OFF YOUR F--king PHONE!".
At least it is no longer Norah Jones,( who I have wholeheartedly banished from my shifts via punishment of dismissal) whose voice once made me think of a candlelit love, and now makes me want to simultaneously vomit while forcing a fork into my skull and amputating my left leg at my shin.
So, Julie, this lovely woman comes into work yesterday all beauty and smiles and pleasantly asks how I am and, am I by any chance thinking of a new trip?
I had just walked out of the kitchen after losing myself in thoughts of travel... of my friends in Japan and contacts in Argentina. Of the benefits of South America versus Asia. Of opportunities to make money versus opportunities to explore.
I had been awake for a long time.
Her question made me blush.
"You have that look on your face." She smiled, knowingly.


And today I read this:

"When the virus of restlessness begins to take possession of a wayward man, and the road away from Here seems broad and straight and sweet, the victim must first find in himself a good and sufficient reason for going. This to the practical bum is not difficult. he has a built-in garden of reasons to choose from. Next he must plan his trip in time and space, choose a direction and a destination. And last he must implement the journey. How to go, what to take, how long to stay. This part of the process is invariable and immortal. "- Steinbeck, Travels with Charley

Steinbeck, at the age of 58, begins another destinationless trip that he realizes is a thing beyond him. It is not a something he admits to love about himself... saying things like "I fear the disease is incurable". He wanders not because he chooses, but because he is a "victim" and though he never claims to dislike his restlessness, he also never claims for it to be convenient, healthy or under his control or reason. To embrace loneliness, solitary train rides, language barriers, sickness and endless hours of waiting, uncomfortably in small seats with entire cultures and starry skies passing us by all for the sake of seeing something, or learning something new, to many is insanity, but to many is the purest form of joy.

I'll never forget my dad asking me "what are you running away from?" when I left for NZ. I answered defensively then,(and probably still would now.) So maybe I am afraid of loving people too much in one place, or loving a place itself too much to never want to leave it? But I think that is all besides the point. Wanderers are just as flawed as those of us who choose to stay standing in one spot. We just seem more briefly flawed perhaps, to more people.

All this occurs in the wake of my dream, where I am being tugged by a dog on a leash whose name is Journey. We are flailing through an early spring campy/foresty site... and I am indeed the one being "walked."

She's got the urge...

Sunset...

What a gorgeous end to a gorgeous day.



Mia ate another bra today. Ho hum.

senses...

I've managed to create a smell that has forced the combined memory of my mother and I in warm kitchens on cool nights, covering school text books in Shaw's paper bags, and spreading papers across the dining room table, it is the smell of ballet shoes and sulfurish water bottles and bare blistered feet and recipe hunting and sharpened pencils and bonnie raitt wafting in from the living room and the evening news from the family room . It is a a garage door opening and the dog barking and my father sneezing so loudly and the phone ringing and my friend Amy asking if I can sleepover this weekend.

The recipe for this dreamy series of soothing recollection is simmering tomato sauce and baking zucchini bread.

Today's Poem, from Poetry Daily

The Same River

Yes, yes, you can't step into the same
river twice, but all the same, this river
is one of the things that has changed
least in my life, and stepping into it
always feels like returning to something
far back and familiar, its steady current
of coppery water flowing around my calves
and then my thighs, my only waders
a pair of old shorts. Holding a fly rod
above my head, my other arm out
for balance, like some kind of dance,
trying not to slip on the mossy rocks,
I make my way out to the big rock
I want to fish from, mottled with lichen
that has dried to rusty orange, a small
midstream island that a philosopher
might use to represent stasis
versus flux, being amidst becoming,
in some argument that is larger
than any that interests me now
as I climb out dripping onto the boulder
and cast my line out to where the bubbles
form a channel and trail off in a V
that points to where the fish will be.

Jeffrey Harrison

Mia

I was convinced that I should get a drink after work.
I had two.

I missed tha last train.
Took a cab.
I got home and half of my new shoes,
the ones I never would wear but love (with heels, even)
so cute...

There was half a shoe on the bed.
grotesque , sort of like half a limb.
Blood in the form of tiny scraps of plastic and paper littering the sheets.
That and the cover of e.e. commings 100 selected poems.



Dogs are a lot of work and certainly a lesson in patience. I don't think I am making enough today dog sitting to cover a new pair of shoes, a book and a bra, all of which Miss Mia have "had her way with".

Good thing I like the cute little thing.

And then?

Words are funny.(Odd. Not haha)
In that they can never quite reach where they need to reach...

----------
Where is the italian in the blood?
(Garlic, tomatoes, oregano...) etc.

----------
"Buona notte" she sighs.

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Something about whales and cuckoos makes the instruments sing. I Understand This.
It is all in the sunset and breezes through the leaves.

Just when I thought I had cut all ties...

So there are very few people I know, and only one that I would still call a friend (and he in Australia, so it doesn't really count) that still work for my former company... the one that killed a small part of me and still encouraged the better parts of me to resist the world that it is a part of...
Anyway. Mia, my current lover, the girl who wakes me up each day with her face on my breasts, licking me seductively... and I are out for our evening stroll. We are sitting on a bench overlooking the Charles River. It is another in a string of perfect peach colored evenings. Along comes a large German Shepherd whose name I cannot remember but means "little boy" in Swedish, and "fuck" in Danish... He and his youngish preppy friendly owner, Johnathan are coming back from the Park Street dog park. We get to talking about dogs, leash laws, Boston... He is Swedish, here for a few months doing research with HMS. We are making easy and casual conversation and I ask him if he had been to Boston before moving here last March. "Just once." he says, adding, "For a birthday party."
"That must have been some fun birthday party, to fly across the ocean and all"
"It was! For a man who started a company, just over there" He pointed in the direction of the Museum of Science. ""EF Education. It was incredible. He hired Elton John and put us all up in a four star hotel!"
"You went to Bertil Hult's birthday party?" I ask, completely astounded... not that this young man knew Bertil, who he practically grew up with as a second father, but that the world of EF continues to follow me.

------------------------

I am again smoking out the apartment because I needed to eat something and all I had was this frozen organic pesto mozzarella pizza that I bought last week from the Co-op and refuse to microwave. I have now nearly eaten the entire thing, and feel fairly ill. The good news is that I biked back and forth and then walked back and forth between Medford and Boston a few times today so must have at least burned a quarter of the calories I just consumed.

Turns out it is another night in with a lovely dog. It is soberingly sad that I have spent the most romantic moments of my summer in the company of dogs. So soberingly sad that it calls for another glass of wine.

Zucchini Pancakes

So I made this delicious Zucchini Bread batter, but had a problem with the oven smoking me out of this small apartment. I left the batter in the fridge, determined to clean the oven this morning and bake the bread as planned.
Well, I am not being paid to clean ovens, and frankly do not enjoy it. I decided to try using the batter as pancake batter instead and my god! Yum. I just cooked one zucchini bread pancake and it was really filling and really really good. I made the bread a reduced guilt version as well... using less oil and yogurt and fat free sour cream. I have tons of batter which will probably last me a few weeks, so maybe should host a brunch.
Anyway, I highly reccommend trying this. I am sure it would be tasty for most quick breads. It is not as light and fluffy as a pancake. The texture is really good though, not tough or chewy, but also not overly bread like or sweet. I just ate it plain, but it would probably be really tasty with raspberry jam or fresh berries.

I didn't really follow a recipe, but looked at a few for guides.

Zucchini Pancakes

3 cups all purpose flour (i bet 2 c white and 1 c wheat would be good and heartier tasting)
1/2 sugar
1/3 c dark brown sugar
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/2 chopped walnuts
1/2 tsp baking powder
3 eggs beaten
1/2 c vegetable oil
1/2 c fat free sour cream
1/4 c yogurt
3 cups shredded zucchini
1 tsp vanilla

1. Combine all dry ingredients in mixing bowl
2. Combine all wet ingredients in seperate bowl.
3. Add wet ingredients to dry ingredients and mix well for a minute. Add zucchini. Mixture will be quite thick.
4. *Heat skillit on medium and melt small amount of butter. Add spatula size of batter and cook as a pancake.

*I'm not sure if leaving the batter overnight in the fridge caused any sort of reaction that made for better pancakes...

Eat and enjoy!

Post Script

The only problem is with the way they pack the pint. (And by pint, I mean quart).
Everyone knows that that when you get two flavors you do your best to pack them side by side, not one on top of the other. Geez. This is common ice cream packing procedure.

Busy busy....

I thought things would be slightly less hectic after Laura and Andy's wedding, however it seems that the opposite has proved true. Dogs, plants to be watered, pruned, picked and eaten... interviews to hold and walks... and walks... and walks.
The good news is that the week has been beautiful. Dog watching is not only fun because of the animal, but fun because it forces me outside for long periods of time. I discovered parts of the city that I never would have. Like Herter Park offering Shakespeare and Shaw through September 16 at a beautiful outdoor amphitheatre.
Busy is good though, so I keep telling myself. And busy leaves for less time to ponder over the ever present 'what should I do with my life' questions.
Right now I am living royally in a place I could never actually afford on my own. A lovely small Back Bay apartment with a beautiful, sweet and lovable dog named Mia. Today she found a bra of mine, and has torn at it as her new favorite toy. I never wore it much anyway. And I feel much closer to her because of it...
I attempted to make zucchini bread tonight, nearly smoking the dog and i out of this small apartment. I need to do some serious oven cleaning. Damn. I get to sleep in tomorrow and was hoping to have some zucchini bread for breakfast.

Bryan and I went to the annual Cambridge International Festival, ie, the Caribbean festival, on Sunday. Quite good times. We watched a totally cool, all girl, brass Haitian Afro rock band. We also watched pre teens in small outfits shaking what their momma gave them. Serious ass movement here. If I had a genie and three wishes my second wish (after #1, " Genie, I want to be able to sing the blues...") would be to be able to shake my booty like that. Still working on my third wish, but I do feel good to be prepared.

Perhaps my third wish would be to have an endless supply (and endlessly unupset stomach because of it) of my new most amazing favorite combo of ice cream Ginger and Black Raspberry Chip from Christina's.

Oh My God.

Flickr

Does anyone really understand how to use Flickr? Because I can't really figure it out.
So, I have this long term project of putting travel pictures on there to share with the two people that might be interested... also added some wedding photos from the weekend.
Anyway, what am I doing wrong? Anyone willing to give me a tutorial in exchange for , I don't know, some tomatoes or something? I don't think it should take me this long.

--------

So I walked from Harvard Square to Back Bay to feed the ugly-cute toothless, claw less, hairless cat named Belle... to find a bitchy roommate on the stairs outside saying she had already fed the alien being because "it was so annoying". I can see why Heather wants to move out.

--------

Something needs to change in my life.

------

Listening to CocoRosie and I love it.

-----

Cinematic Orchestra coming to Boston Sept 25!!!!

Alone

ineededthis.

And now that I've eaten...

I will dare to reflect on the perfect weekend that was Laura and Andy's wedding.

I know I have the ability to sound truly cheesy and sentimental. Whats so wrong with being optimistic and in love with things as they are? Anyway... they wed and we all are better for it!
I am so glad to have had the chance to spend some time with my sister before the"big day".
Thanks to wonderful friends of ours we were able to enjoy massages and pampering. We were calmed and beautified on Friday in preparation for the arrival of family and fun activities of Saturday and Sunday.
Walden pond was beautiful. My first time there, and now have such a need to return. We ate well Saturday evening, drank with friends in Cambridge on Saturday night and slept semi well in preparation for a ceremony that exceeded my expectations.
All sisters probably say they have never seen a more beautiful bride, but truely I never have! Laura was stunning. Before, during and after. She shone with happiness, nervousness and love.
Their vows were heart felt.
Their love is real.

For someone like me, a cynic to the idea of everlasting love and an "other" in completeness... I was definitely swayed.
I guess weddings are meant for that. To share the loving optimism of a few people who want, rather than need, to be together, through it all.

In any event, I know that Laura and Andy are blessed by whatever it is that blesses beings... be it their friends and family or some other, higher force.

And the best of it is that I get to hang out with their dog for a few weeks while they go to our neighborhood in the north. Canada.

There is much to write on...

But mostly I must share this evening moment because I haven't been able to experience this happiness in far too long (for a girl like me who used to live on these moments...).
I am housesitting in a beautiful woman's beautiful house. I am drinking wine and listening to Bessie Smith sings the Blues on record, and what a difference that makes....
I just made a delicious meal and even though no longer have an appetite to eat much of it, enjoyed so much the process of the creating. Especially with the instructions of Julie to eat the massive amounts of garlic, zucchini and tomatoes from her garden that have taken over her home.
If I must!
And I will even embarrassingly admit that it took me a while to recognize the garlic, in beautiful long stemmed form in front of my eyes.... What? No giant pre packaged elephant bulbs from Trader Joe's?



Spinach Linguini with Fresh tomatoes, garlic and zucchini

2 tbls extra virgin olive oil
3 heads fresh garlic chopped
1 medium zucchini chopped
4 large fresh tomatoes
salt and pepper
dash white wine vinegar


Boil water for pasta and cook for 9 minutes, al dente.

Heat olive oil and add chopped garlic til brown. Add zucchini and cook for 5 minutes. Add tomatoes and simmer for another 5-10 minutes on reduced heat. Add vinegar, salt and pepper to taste.

Serve with Parmesan in large serving dish with sourdough and wine.

Yum diggity.


And the Orange tabby Michael is so lovely as company. A pet-me whore. I love him and his unembarrassed need to be touched.

So I didn't go to ballet class...

Though it was my intention to. I was going with the expectation of the lovely woman Anna with her beautiful piano accompaniament from last week and instead was face to face with a tall thin grumpy man in tight spandex, gripping a casette tape. After fighting off images of Larry, my instructor from college, in shiney red tights I decided it was best for me to slink away before class started. I had only eaten a banana and juice all day, and was sufficiently grumpy yet unhungry because of it.

Instead though, the saint that is Bryan offered company in my confused, distracted hunger driven state. We got some Thai food (Penang Curry with vegetables from Pepper Sky, better than green curry but still no Rod Dee) and sat on his roof while the sun set into a beautiful (though slightly too reminiscent of autumn) night.

And I just rode home and ate half a pint of blueberries that taste suspiciously like candy and am now leaving blue finger prints on my white keyboard.

And drivers suck. I nearly got killed 8 times on my ride home because of idiots driving cars.

(Maybe I should actually put that light I bought for my bike two months ago on my bike. It doesn't have the same effect from the inside of my bike bag.)

Favorite person of the day:

Amelia
because she is beautiful with curls and energy and zest for life and she is and not afraid to be passionate.

Least favorite person of the day:

(Myself, maybe?)

Food, Wine and Music

So there are those people that know all there is to know about wine, and know exactly which bottle to go with which flavor. While I've tried to understand the pairings, my palatte is limited, often due to my lack of interest consuming anything formerly of breathe. Most of the combinations of the wines I love, (ahem, that is, anything reddish in color) seem to go really well with meat... and still I enjoy them. Most vegetarian dishes seem "best consumed with" with a white wine, which unless is a hot summer day, is not my first choice.

Anyway, this is not my point. My idea is that there should be a new specialization of wine sommeliers whose job it would be to pair wine with music. Specific music... some album that is obscure and beautiful and created as if to go with the bottle. And maybe there can be some appetizer or something around for accent purposes, but have the focus be on the experience of wine and music, both living breathing and deserving of adoration! A new tasting room concept restaurant! You go out for a nice date in some dark, heavily red, curtained place and have a listening booth where you choose a wine, and they bring you the appropriate appetizers and then play for you the music that must be paired with the bottle!

Tres romantique,non?

-----------
J'espere dormir mueux ce soir que la nuit passee!

I woke up at 3:00am to use the restroom, and tripped and fell over the plant and giant tupperware box that Meg considerately left in the middle of the hallway, directly next to the bathroom. So, I return to bed, highly annoyed and cannot fall asleep. My mind is racing with the upcoming wedding (isn't it the bride that is supposed to be restless?), my job, my life, my loves, my many many faults.... it is not good. By 4:24 I am still awake and decide that perhaps I am hungry and in need of juice. I get said sustenence and browse myrecipes.com. I find some delicious sounding recipes for black bean veggie burgers with spicy cucumber and red pepper relish, some fun peace and blueberry deserts and some table decorating ideas.

And then I decide I should go into catering.

And then I decide I should buy a one way ticket to Paris because I watched Amelie for the millionth time and for the millionth time fell more in love with the idea of Paris... ( and all the recent parisian movies... ratatouille, science of sleep, paris, je t'aime...). And the recent email remembrances of my own Paris lovestory.

"We'll always have Paris!"

Maybe I should start studying French, not Spanish, oui?

------------
Dinner Plans?

I bought so many veggies and fruits yesterday in the hopes that I would be able to cook for people. So, come over for dinner! I made a delicious corn/blackbean/avocado/tomato salad with spanish onions and parsley (and probably some other things) which I have been eating in vast quantities on top of herbed salad greens. Yuuuuuum.

Today, I bought fresh dill and cilantro. Silly purchases seeing as I have no one but my little unhungry self to cook for, but I love love love farmer's markets.

So come on over! I will feed you well.

Pet sitting

For those of you who don't know, I pet sit pretty regularly and love love love it. Tell all your friends and check out my new dog blog! (Call me lame, but I think pet owners will love it!)

The Dog Blog.

Dreams

I was leading a tour through the forested bush of northern Russia during the summer. My group and I stopped to camp. I sat with one of my group members and started to build a fire, eventually beginning to cook rice. We heard a rustling in the tall grasses which made us nervous, but soon the rest of the clan was with us in a circle all cooking, chatting and reliving adventures of the day. A giant bear appeared as if from nowhere and began attacking the group. People were running and screaming and we were trying to delegate calm to our group. My friend, the older pudgy man in baseball hat and Reeboks was the first to be attacked. He found his way to a ditch screaming where the bear could only inflict surface wounds. The camp was ablaze from scattered ashes and burning food. The trip was ruined.
Flash forward and I am calling this member to check in on him. We talk like old friends and he brings up all that he missed on the trip. I try to make light of what happened and ask surely he will travel again. He replies never.
-------

Not applying any great meaning but this was more vivid than anything I've dreamed in a while. The jungley green and river flowers were spectacular. The aftermath of guilt and responsibility were so distinct. Our flight over the land was inspiring... deep jade green covered in pools of ice clear water with deer and moose running underneath us...

Why am I not dreaming like this every night?

Health Care

So I haven't had health insurance since August 12, 2005, which is very close to two years ago. Other than the strange green tonsil fungus I grew for a week while in EnZed and the two toenails that I lost in the Andes, I've had very few health concerns. Now Massachusetts has passed a law that requires all adults to have health care and even offer semi reasonable plans for low income folks such as myself.A step in the right direction. What they have also done is passed a law for businesses, mandating that they provide a health insurance option to full time employees. Again,this seems progressive in our country and another step in a good direction. I met with my boss today to review my new options and realized the glitch is that the kind of insurance that a small business can provide, at least the one that I work for, is nearly twice as much a month as Commonwealth Cares. So why not just sign up with CC you ask? Because now that my employer provides an insurance option I am no longer eligible to enroll with CC.
I can't really afford either plan, but I have the feeling that I am actually getting quite screwed.
And if I continue sans insurance, I get screwed at tax time, slapped with something like a $300 fine. This is at least slightly cheaper.

Supreme instants.

I got a new dress for Laura's wedding. Much better.
And Coffee Oreo ice cream.
And there is this emotional dog saga.
And the beers were flat when my friend came over.
And Beatrice the puppy destroyed a beanie cow.
And now the beanie toxic beans are littering our porch.

And I cannot sleep lately...

And today was a stupidly long work day.
And how many day-old bagels?
And pounds of red peppers?
And colors of tortellini?
Inventory.

And I was actually going to go to a ballet class at 7.
Intermediate even.
(How frightening.)
And then there were too many brownies to count.


And now I have a new bottle of wine.

And I just purchased a superbly fantastic album by Descemer Bueno. Sort of latin reggae/rap/world/dance greatness.
And I heard from Tara and miss her
and she texts me "smile babe and stay positive. u're an achiever
and all that patience that i so admire-"gd things come to those those who wait"...

And she is happy and laughing after Cabaret in London...

-------

At least I have the day off tomorrow.

Greenbean and couscous salad with blue cheese and almonds

I went to the Trader Joe's and bought ingredients that formed this salad. Yum.

1 cup whole wheat couscous
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 tsps tumeric
1 tsp curry powder
1 tsp ground ginger
a handful of cherry tomatoes, or 2 equivalent diced beefstake etc tomatoes
1/4 cup dry roasted unsalted almonds
1/2 cup black beans, rinsed and drained
1 cucumber diced
1 lb whole fresh green beans
salt and pepper to taste
1 tablespoon fresh chopped parsley
1/2 tablespoon fresh chopped mint
4 oz crumbled blue cheese

Boil 1 cup water with olive oil. Add couscous , cover and remove from heat. Stir in tumeric, curry powder and ginger. Fluff with fork and let cool.

Boil 2 cups water, add green beans and blanch for 3 mins. Drain and rinse under cold water to prevent from continuing to cook.

Add all ingredients, stir, chill and serve.

Rafting photos

Ray brought his camera rafting and sent me these:


Ray and I, standing over the accomplished river:
Don't I look like a professional?

I wish I could sing the blues.

Wet smudgy people standing in doorways looked at me like I was a fool walking in the downpour on the way home from work, laughing blissfully. True, the damp coffee stink of me was somewhat distasteful, but luckily no one was getting too close. Now I smell of old coffee and wet dog, which is unsurprisingly, not a winning combination. I feel quite refreshed though.

Jack the wonderdog is much less wonderful today. We are having a bit of a lover's quarrel. He bit my friend last night. Right in the face. Bad dog! Bad! Friend says he is ok and dog has been spoken to harshly, punishing himself allnight much more than I could ever punish him myself. Still, biting people's faces is not ok. (Unless it is done in a loving manner, which in this case, it was not. Bad Bad Dog)

------------

I am enrolled in a TESOL course for the end of August but am beginning to have the inclination to put it off until next month. It seems I should have a clear idea of where and when I want to leave. And if I want to teach at all. Too bad I am not one of those smart, skilled people who can easily gain employment in foreign countries because of my numerous technical or medical skills. Too bad I am not independently wealthy. Too bad I am not something other than a starry eyes wanderer whose short skill list includes making a decent latte, arranging food in pretty ways and bonding with dogs.

With September looming a few short weeks away I am feeling the need to figure out a plan for myself. A new job, a new place, a new trip. I need to know something is going to change in the fall to ensure that I do not have a mid-autumn freak out at the first signs of frost.

Its that time of day

Where the light is perfect and I have a beer and a book and my favorite dog at my feet. I am sitting on my sister's porch and there is a breeze and I am happy.

To the lighthouse...

Feeling slightly calmer with some food in my belly and a book by my side and the night so soft on my lovely green infused porch. But I am wondering, where have all the moths gone? So light here, and not even a small gray winged beast has fluttered by me....?

Sleep deprivation

" So what do you do for fun?"
"Uhhh, mostly I like to sleep."

I had much more caffeine than any other injested substance today. My delicious iced double soy latte at 6:45pm is having serious side effects. I have to be at work in too few hours and am seriously grumpy when I am deprived of my favorite past time.
Watch out world.

So I'm A

Dreamer-escape artist-back to basics-love bug according to my visual DNA.

One more cup of coffee for the road....

Soccer in the Plaza:

Grenada:




Hola! I am blogging all the way from the sunny brown earth of Playa del Coco, Costa Rica. I've had a hugely relaxing and fun trip to some of the centralist of the Central American countries. Though highly unfortunate that I didn't get to see any other parts of Nicaragua I was hugely impressed with Grenada. I had been looking forward to the city and had heard travellers tell of its colorful colonial splendor, but I had expected something perhaps slightly more bedraggled and run down. But Grenada was lovely and clean with testy street dogs, smiley old men and charming children. We encountered very few tourists and spent our days mostly wandering through the brightly painted neighborhoods, taking pictures and stopping occassionally for coffee or beer(Victoria = muy bueno) The coffee was incredible too. I am kicking myself for not buying any to bring back, as it tasted much better than the Costa Rican coffee I've experienced while here.

The central plaza, Grenada:

Cute Girl jumping a fire hydrant:Colorful Grenada:


On Thursday we took a taxi for about $3 to Puerto Asese and submitted ourselves to one of the three or four skippers that approached us. We then walked a quarter of a mile down a pleasant jungly path while parrots and butterlies flew about and monkey's howled in the distance. We eventually came to a boat and puttered off, going slowly through the warm calm waters, passing Nico childrenlaughing and splashing.There are over 2000 people that live on the hundreds of tiny islands off the coast, fishing and farming and rowing their children to the one main school. It would be a highly isolated, though extremely peaceful way of life. I am sad to report that I did not see any sharks or crocodiles. Our guide told us they were not in that area of the lake. Bummer.

An island:

Friday we made the long journey back through the border. Though we are probably two hours from Grenada itself, the trip home took at least six or seven hours. When we got the border, the two earlier busses were still waiting to have their luggage examined by the "customs" officials. By the time they got to ours the officials looked pretty bored with their task, took one look at us and looked at us waved us by. On the way back our bus was stopped twice by police to inspect passports, I am guessing in attempts to cut down on illigal Nicaraguan workers in Costa Rica. The word is the $9 a day they can make working 13 hour days in Costa Rica is better than anything they can find in their own country.
Now I am enjoying a day mostly by myself. Mike left early this morning to fly home to NH so it is just Charlie and I for the next day.I've done nothing today other than take a long walk, swim in the ocean, swim in the pool, take a nap and read. Now I am drinking a Pilsen and hoping to find a nice spot to watch the sunset. Tomorrow though I am planning on doing something slightly more adventurous, white water rafting in two person inflatable canoes with a few people I met down here.
I am a bit burnt, but at least I know if get lost in the night I can use the blinding whiteness of my boobs to help guide me home. Safety first, my friends.

I think this is the male. He was the loud one. (Howler Monkey):

Playa del Coco in the morning:


Another amazing Costa Rican sunset: