So today's high was 1 degree. No, I'm not kidding, that's a one. As in one single degree. It snowed all day, which honestly I wouldn't mind so much if it wasn't so freaking cold when I have to go shovel. They have no idea what "snow days" are here either. Which would be okay too - except that I'm the one that has to drive my child to school in the morning. As you can all imagine, I am not the best snow driver in the world. Much as growing up in Oklahoma completely obliterated any chance I had of becoming a successful parallel parker, as I can't think of one single place there that doesn't have at least a 20 car parking lot & that includes the convenience stores, it has also made me an extremely nervous snow driver. But, the kids love the snow. What are you going to do? Please think nice happy thoughts of Eli getting a job very, very south of here.
So it's been almost exactly a year since I decided to quit working for the man and stay at home. I'm sad to report that I'm still not very good at the whole domestic goddess business. Not all days are failtacular, of course, but I do often worry that my head may implode at any moment. Rachel Ray, Martha Stewart (Raywart?), I'm not (amazingly this does not keep me up at night). Lucky for me, I have the best, sometimes strangest, kids in the world.
Barefoot children scramble across searing cement through acres of brambles bare-armed & legged wiggling through barb-wire fences & tumbling on mountains of rocks smiling triumphantly carting turtles & beetles & pies made of mud chattering at butterflies & making epic castles of cardboard boxes to be so brave & love so much.
seriously, I'm never going to get this how I want it. Ok, so the real question is: is the girl just a pretentious hipster douchebag or is she just bored & alone & contemplating why the hell she's still paying back a student loan to a sub-par university for an education that has never been used & if she was so smart how come she didn't just go to trade school and hey, the water looks cool............
Ok, so this is for Jen - who brilliantly pointed out that I haven't actually posted a word here yet. I expect that anyone reading this already knows me pretty well, so I'm not going for a giant profound hello, welcome to my world here, yet. Maybe the blogging will be cheaper and more productive then the payment each week to my lovely counselor, I guess we'll all find out soon enough. I am unfortunately slightly overwhelmed by the narcissistic nature of this whole process, but hey, I'm not making you read this drivel. Love you guys, here's a very old poem I wrote just for you ;)
She stands arms outstretched towards the sun glinting highlights of dormant winter pushing them in the light struggling in impatience for the rays of warmth to wash away the past sometimes it almost seems seemless the boundary of her body & the sky one aglow - stretching as high as the fingers of the trees touching eternity that expression that impression may one day save the world may save you may save me in childish glee for life paused on the brink like the second before descending off a slope of earth ready to fall but caught in defiance by something so instinctual to be invisible but to outshine the very sun just a star but just as magical an unfathamable beauty felt more then seen purity as a metaphor caught for a second in a gorgeous girl in a gorgeous heart in a gorgeous day
And here's one (obviously not by me) that sums up my feelings about this at the moment, although the question remains in my mind am I the girl or I am the opposite of the girl?:
Under the awning, where the light yellows a little like chardonnay, she is her own portrait, moody on the Boulevard St-Germain, pouring little puddles from her glass onto the tabletop, noting how the water holds steady as the glass tilts away, not minding the waiter's stares, because she is on the edge of metaphor & feels very french (by way of Ohio): The day tips & everyone spills toward evening - yes, yes - & she writes this on her soggy napkin, the letters bleeding wide into a blurry watercolor of which she is the main subject.