What the Living Do

Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil
probably fell down there.
And the Drano won’t work but smells dangerous, and the crusty
dishes have piled up

waiting for the plumber I still haven’t called. This is the everyday we
spoke of.
It’s winter again: the sky’s a deep headstrong blue, and the sunlight
pours through

the open living room windows because the heat’s on too high in here,
and I can’t turn it off.
For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street
the bag breaking,

I’ve been thinking: This is what the living do. And yesterday, hurrying
along those
wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my
wrist and sleeve,

I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush:
This is it.
Parking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called
that yearning.

What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter
to pass. We want
whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss — we want more and more
and then more of it.

But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in
the window glass,
say, the window of the corner video store, and I’m gripped by a
cherishing so deep

for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I’m
speechless:

I am living, I remember you.

–Marie Howe

At our staff meeting yesterday we were discussing twitter. It came up that you have to be consistent in your "tweeting." You can't start off tweeting all the time and then fade off, because your "followers" create an expectation when you post regularly, and then lose interest if you taper off.

So, my dear readers, of which I know there are at least a few... I've let you down. A year ago I was posting almost every day, and I've become terribly irregular in the past year-few months-ish. I don't have internet at home! But I am going to try to be more regular with posting at least a sentence or photo.

Today, it is snowing. Real, sloppy, sticking to trees and cars and grass. I am wearing a turtleneck. And I am cold.

Brr.

I love days when it's hard to decide which part was the very best. Each of these moments was the best of yesterday, in that moment.

• Avett Brothers pandora at my desk during a particularly productive stint.
• A smiling welcomed visitor in my office.
• Blue skies, warm breeze, 70 degrees!
• Communication with one of my absolute favorite people. A former camper turned dear friend who flows in and out of my world but always stays in my heart.
• An absolutely delicious and challenging yoga class- celebrating five years of relatively consistent practice!
• Happy hour with a few of my boys. One cold Sunshine Wheat with an orange slice, spinach salad, chicken pizza. Laughter.
• Snuggling into a zero gravity chair with a woven blanket to watch a round of horseshoes and the sunset over the sleeping giant.

“Where we love is home—home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts.”

- Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

Happiness is....

• Visiting friends in town for the weekend- delicious homecooked food, good conversations, laughter and a little dance party.
• Two big ski days over the weekend. Wind, snow, sun.
• An evening Easter Brunch with a few of my near&dears. I made fruit salad, muffins and breakfast casserole. We feasted, drank mimosas and watched a movie.
• Tuesday- ski day with my boss. Trees, powder, awesome.
• Today- staff ski day. A few runs with two coworkers, 21 inches of powder, floating, burning, assorted friends, one hike up, a perma-grin.
• Now- ready to go lie down.

"Joy has many different flavors. It might overflow from us in song or dance, or it might gently arise as a smile or a sense of inner fullness. Joy is not something we have to manufacture. It is already in us when we come into the world, as we can see in the natural delight and exuberance of a healthy baby. We need only release the layers of contraction and fear that keep us from it."

-James Baraz, “Lighten Up!” (Summer 2004)

From Two Tramps in Mud Time by Robert Frost( 1934)

The sun was warm but the wind was chill.
You know how it is with an April day
When the sun is out and the wind is still,
You're one month on in the middle of May.
But if you so much as dare to speak,
A cloud comes over the sunlit arch,
A wind comes off a frozen peak,
And you're two months back in the middle of March.