my texan mother in armenia

Most of the past week I think I’ll save for my novel/memoir/perpetually-put-off-piece-of-literature.  That is both a artistic decision, and a way of avoiding the impossibility of putting into words this past week with me, Mom, and Armenia. But, despite the length, consider this a taste. I saw her at first down the hallway, behind the glass partition, my mother looking much skinnier, a little lost, and washed over with anticipation.  She saw me jumping up above the crowd, waving one arm and holding a bouquet of flowers in the other, this little collection of green, white and lavender, a message…

she lives

Before I get to business, look what I got for my birthday: Yes, I do indeed consider those bright, little weeds early summer’s gift to me, but really though, check out my feet in new Chacos!  Mom and Dad, you are wonderful to me! Now, the business.  If you read my last post, you have probably sat biting your nails, probably tossed and turned all night, wondering, hoping against hope that the wicked warlock/me has not thrown the poor defenseless Spring Chicken to the bottom of the town ravine. Well, as many of my friend’s predicted, the sun came out,…

a great way to spend a third of my life

I have this addiction, see. I love sleep.  I love to doze off.  I love knowing my bed well enough to lay in it just right and let go of every muscular tension.  I love the weight of my wool duvet and the cool of my sheets.  I love pushing the balls of my feet against the footboard in a full body stretch.  I love waking up in the middle of the night, reading 2:00am on my watch and knowing I have hours more of bliss. I love feather pillows and pillows stuffed with cotton. I love wool mats and…

how’s the chicken?

I’m starting to get why people like dogs.  Perhaps its all the lap naps.  Or maybe it’s the way they spring at your knees and wag and wag.  Or maybe it’s the huge kick they get out of playing with rocks.  It’s a mixture of things I’m sure.  I will say the whole training business is work.  Following The Chicken’s little butt around while she sniffs is at the least fairly inglorious, and my chanting of the mantra “Go potty… go potty… go potty…”  just makes me want to pee. She’s getting into a rebellious stage that amounts to me…

really gross and really upset and really glad that i can kiss and make-up in armenian

You will not see any pictures in this post, and once you read on, you will know that pictures are NOT something you want right now.  But first: I had one of those moments today. I’m walking home on a road I’d never walked before.  Raindrops are finding their way through my jeans.  The broken part of my umbrella is slapping me in the face with irregular rhythm.  And as I reached a long, wet stretch of road, I thought, “I really love my life.”  Because despite the weather (which hasn’t outrained it’s Spring Rain charm), I had the most…