because gratitude is a practice

(as the lovely bodhibound reminds me.)

on sunday afternoon I went to the animal shelter for volunteer orientation– I’m going to be a dog person (they make you choose between dogs and cats), so we took a couple of the guys out and about. felt really good to be around dogs– just the tail-wagging, panting, happyface energy of them did more good for me than I can say. so now I’m just waiting for the call to schedule my first real training shift.

first snows, bunchy drifty flake clumps. the other evening I stood out in it for a bit, just watching as I spoke on the phone with my sweet friend moni back in iowa.

payday and grocery shopping. making chicken soup from the carcass.

the anticipation of being reunited with someone you love and miss.

the signposts on my block without caps that yodel mournfully in the wind off the lake.

finding parking right away.

a cup of hot tea and a home-baked muffin.

knocking out debt bit by bit.

jaw and neck feeling much better.

vox friends. cell phones.

having a job to complain about going to. :)

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… is excruciating. watching one another stumble and have anvils dropped from above. any of us makes a fine target for whatever causes things to fall and break. bones break, hearts and minds. we heal and scar and favor the pink flesh– and sometimes we poke at it, repeatedly, to remember we are alive.

it is terrible to watch our parents wither before us– and surely unimaginably worse to look on our childrens’ wounds and misalignments. we grow crooked against adversity, or out of sheer perversity, we bend, we knot, we grow onward. our shape defines itself against an indomitable wind or wall. we wear out, run down, expire. there is dread in the undoing, in the unknowing– vulnerability in the face of– what? vulnerability itself, not even knowing. or only half-knowing. suspecting and second-guessing ourselves in circles, routines of preparation, edifices against the softness of the belly.


things I hate:
my end-of-day commute
hunting for parking
so-called friends who are not
squishy, flavorless american “gummy bears”
narcissists, users, and the self-righteously prideful
relentless political campaigning
irregardless unsensible languagistic usage
anyone meddling with my teeth
being the only person at work in a halloween costume
teutonic network admins
nostalgic regret

things I love:
haribo gold bears (aka the original gummi baren)
birds, especially ones that talk or cause mischief
clanky radiators
strong coffee
that man who makes me laugh & swoon
tights + boots
vintage raincoats
my art table
happenstance adventuring
kneading bread dough
tinkering & pottering
my niece’s cow saying “mow mow”