any minute now

I should be asleep.  I’ll be waking up tomorrow at a very early hour, one I’d call unholy except that what could be more holy than a reunion?  I’m not even sure I can sleep because… wait for it… … the reunion is starting in just a few hours. See that friendship displayed above.  That is pure, unadulterated love there, captured in digital form the last time Kelly, Sarah and I were together.  That was Texas.  This time we’re doing things Eurasia style. First things first, this one… … is landing in a matter of hours.  HOURS.  This friend who…

table collection

I know this is going to feel silly, but follow me for a minute.  Web Urbanist featured a photographer who’s much cooler photos feature an individual’s carried items and one of the hands that brought those bits around. Last night I looked at my coffee table, a mess for sure, but also a story about my little ol’ life. It’s a collection of things that have something to say about me, and there was no forethought to their being there at all. There’s a favorite scarf I bought back in 2005 at the advising of an ex girlfriend.  My landmom…

backing up to the island

      I happened upon a saved document yesterday, a bit about impressions after a week on Isla Taboga, an island off the coast of Panama City.  I had gone with my friend Travis, and for a couple of weeks it was just the two of us waiting for our other two friends to arrive on the ferry.  It was supposed to end up on my blog exactly two years ago, but because of lack of internet on the island it stayed on my hard drive.  It’s a bit heady, but it took me back to some of those…

privolnoye

Another visit to a village.  Another incredible time with an incredible family which feels like some kind of gift I do not deserve.  But what to do but completely soak it in which, of course, is what I did. This time another PCV and I, plus a Latvian friend of mine from the European Volunteer Service, headed to Privolnoye up in the mountains near the Georgian border.  We met Ruzana, an ethnically Russian woman who returned to her village after a disheartening time trying to make a life in the capital city.  Ruzana runs a hugely successful children’s club which…

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…