if a blog with only a few posts can have a trend, apparently mine would be the trend of quoting what other people have said. i am sort of wordless, as though i'm incapable of any original thought. i feel like the world of blogging has contributed to this. as though i have become increasingly aware that my thoughts are not my own, that other people really do feel what i feel and think my same thoughts. it feels like a violation in some way.

content

i needed to write this down because i know that i will forget it otherwise and it will fade into a million other moments such as this. moments that were treasured at the time but yet didn't make it into that place where memories stay.

i am working in my bedroom going through about 4000 wedding pictures. i don't mind. the reason is that from my window i can see my sweet husband working his heart out in the backyard. even better is that i can hear him singing as he works. attie is bounding joyfully through the yard behind him. it is 6:35 and still light outside. spring appears to have arrived.

for all of these things, i am thankful.

someday

someday i will paint this. or write it or something. i mean, re-write it. because i didn't but wish that i could have. for the second day in a row.

When we are old one night
and the moon arcs over the house
like an antique china saucer
and the teacup sun follows
somewhere far behind

I hope the stars deepen to a shine
so bright you could read by it

if you liked

and the sadnesses we will have known
go away for awhile
-- in this hour or two before sleep--
and that we kiss standing in the kitchen

not fighting gravity so much
as embodying its sweet force,
and I hope we kiss like we do today
knowing so much good is said in this primitive tonguef

rom the wild first surprising ones
to the lower dizzy ten thousand infinitely slower ones --
and I hope while we stand there in the kitchen
making tea and kissing,
the whistleof the teapot wakes the neighbors.

Prayer for a Marriage
Steve Scafidi

will you hear me and know?

If I could write a song today, this is it what I would want it to say:

Can i get up in the moming

Put the kettle on

Make us some coffee,

say "hey" to the sun...

Is it enough to write a song and sing it to the birds?

They'd hear just the tune

Not understand my love for words

But you would hear me and know

I want only this: I want to live

I want to live a simple life

I dreamed you first

But not so real

And everyday since I've found you

Such moments we steal

Like little thieves, we rub our hands

We hold our hearts between them.

But will you hear me and know?

I want only this: I want to live

I want to live a simple life.

Move on, move on

Time is accelerating

Drive on all night

Traffic lights and one-ways

Move on, move on

Parking violations waiting

Turn off the car, breathe the air

Let's stay here

I'll kiss you awake, and we'll have time

To know our neighbors all by name

And every star at night

We'll weave our days together like waves

And particles of light

I want only this: I want to live

I want to live a simple life.

The Weepies have song lyrics that resonate with me in a way that I'm not sure I have heard throughout an album since probably the Indigo Girls. I am grateful to be brought back to that place. Still to come: some of my thoughts/favorite parts/things I hated about the last real book I've read in six months: Eat, Love, Pray. Also, more pictures from Mexico.

post script: to live a simple life is not really all that i want.

reentry.

it was a really good weekend.

i was semi-looking forward to it and knew we should jump on the chance for some time with corey's fam in the country while we could get it. we have missed them a lot lately. turns out it was probably my favorite weekend we've ever had at "the lake" and we have had a lot of great times there. contributing factors were alex's new puppy, incredibly beautiful weather, lots of magazines, picnics in the yard followed by lazy naps, and the inaugural nolen/hershbine game of baseball. i won't tell you who won only that it was not the hershbines. it is just as hard to explain to a five year old why you don't get to bat every time as it is to explain to a golden retriever why no one wants him in the middle of every game involving a ball or a frisbee. i discovered that maybe i don't hate riding on the four-wheeler as much as i thought that i did (which in itself is somewhat of a miracle).

it was just good to get away.

i hope that i will still be able to take pictures this week, that people will look at my blog, that someone will call me about setting up a shoot. each week it feels miraculous that these things happen and each week, i am sure that they will not repeat themselves.