Come on, Step inside

FLOWERS!!! Finally! At last!

I sunk my knees into the soil late afternoon yesterday. Playing in the dirt... it's the only thing that will keep me sane after studying math all day long.

So here's what I have so far. This is just the first bed. There's a slightly larger one still empty and waiting for me. Apparently, I over-purchased for this little plot, so I have a good bit of Silva left over (the red blooms). My plan so far, is for these guys to all get big and lush, and hopefully, they wont look quiet as prim and proper as they do at the moment. In the back corner is a large ground-cover type plant that gets thick and bushy, and attracts the attention of butterflies. The little white babies are called White Diamonds, and they wont grow as high as the bushy thing behind them, but will branch out and grow to a height similar to the purple flowers and the red silva around them. I think the White Diamonds are my favorite. I seem to have a preference for tiny, delicate blooms. Baby's breath has always been a dear love of mine, if that tells you anything.

And finally, I gave the monkey grass border a serious haircut, as they were growing all kinds of wild and crazy. Hopefully I trimmed them correctly... I sort of guessed from memory, as we use to have this same monkey grass at my house when I was a child.

Pull me out from inside, I am ready

Sometimes these moods sneak up on me, and I can't shake them.

Like today. Today has been an odd day. Slippery in a way. It began well enough, but slowly, oh so slowly, it turned sour and distasteful. I feel needy. Or, to put it better, I feel in need of something... I know not what. Love. Care. Security? I keep trying to get a grip on what exactly it is that's bothering me, but I'm truly at a loss. It could be the ache in my legs from running yesterday, or the ache in my deformed foot. It could be the lock on my bike that is now broken, thanks to Mike "Cushman" (ugh), whom I let borrow it for far too long and who probably broke it in some drunken stupor he is known for indulging. I cannot now get my bike off of the rail at work. It is stuck there, tied to the metal with a thickly wrapped combination cable. Thank god for my neighbor Jenn who came in as I was leaving with her date and saved me from having to walk home. Needless to say, it would have been a long, long walk.

I will try instead to focus on positive things tonight. I had a wonderful talk with Jess on the phone this afternoon. It is a saving grace that our lives always seem to parallel one another. If there is anyone I can count on understanding me and my (our) life, it is this woman. It's been this way since we were little girls... once remarking with wonder on the silly fact that we both ate a brown sugar pop tart for breakfast with iced tea, and were both January girls. *Twins*.

(photo taken last fall)

And I had a homegrown, bib lettuce salad for lunch today! It was fantastic. A little olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper. It needed nothing more. The salad was perfect.

Maybe what I am beginning to realize, is that I can make the kind of life I always idealized for myself, by myself. I don't need a man who will "bring" it to me, who will "inspire" it in me. It's all here, every last bit of it -- is all inside of me. God. The earth. These dreams. Maybe I still struggle with loneliness; that is to be expected. It's a human condition. Memories weasle their way in and crack more places in the broken heart, but you know, most of the time, it's really all okay. I find the beauty in the world. I can; I do. Let me not forget that. Let me not forget that there are always moments when I can dream, and live, when I wake in the morning and take a deep, healthy breath of fresh air and smile with all the gladness of my soul. Life is what you make of it. Sometimes I sculpt the clay poorly... but the wheel is still spinning. So sculpt some more, I say. Sculpt some more.

I was thinking tonight, also, about something my poetry professor (the poet laureate of GA) said to me two semesters ago.... music, is much like poetry. "Take Bob Dylan, for instance. Much of his music is real poetry. The difference between him and us, is that he gets the good fortune of singing the beauty, whereas we still have to work it out on paper and trust that, that paper, will convey the depths of our spirits."

Tonight's music: Girl in the War, by Josh Ritter; and the Counting Crows ((both are so, so goddamn good))

Show me a garden bursting into life

The morning is gorgeous. I slept with the windows open and awoke today with a sweet smelling spring breeze drifting in! I enjoyed the very first moments of being awake, just lying there, watching Moonpie watching the baby finches scuttle around the bush outside. If there wasn't so much work to be done before May 1st, I'd already be knee-deep in dirty in the front yard garden. I actually laid in bed last night, unable to sleep, thinking about what types of flowers or plants would go where. I've been looking at magazines like Homes and Gardens (it's true!) to get ideas. The gardens I like the most are the ones that appear slightly less planned, but more spontaneous, more natural. Last year I just selected three types of flowers and row-planted them. This year I don't want pattern, I want plant-freedom! I'd like to go in to Lowes and just select a huge array of different things... one of these, two of those, etc. And then plant them in the garden like carefully laid ingredients, asking each one where they'd like best to be.

The weekend has been pleasant thus far. Had my bike fixed yesterday morning. Studied all day. Went for a nice long run (6ish miles). Had a glass of wine on the porch with Jenn. The Inman Park festival is in town, and though I wont have the opportunity to wander around down there, I will be riding my bike through on my way to work. The Inman Park festival holds special and unique memories for me. Specifically, the first year I moved here. J and I went, and I was pregnant. A random woman came up to us as we were walking down the street and exclaimed with excitement that we looked like the perfect couple, that something just told her to come and tell us how beautiful we were together. I remember being stunned, because there was no way she could have known I was pregnant. I think, at the time, it was a sign... a sign I couldn't see clearly enough, or didn't listen to as I should have. Things would have been so different. Sometimes I wish I'd made different choices.

Moving into a new house has been discussed recently. It wouldn't be until September, but I think it'd be a good idea. I'd split the rent with two other people, which would reduce my monthly bills significantly. The house is owned by a friend of mine, over in East Atlanta. She has to relocate to Philly, so I convinced her to rent the place out and I'd take good care of it. There is a large garden plot for a vegetable garden in the fenced back yard. It's on a quiet street, where the cats will be able to do an indoor/outdoor kind of thing. I don't think Nairobi will take to that idea, but I know Moonpie would definitely be happier. We've asked Gary, a wonderful friend, if he'd like to stay there with us, and he's given us a definite "yes!" Gary is amazing. He is West Indian, and one of the kindest, gentlest souls I've ever met. He's like a big ole cuddly bear. I'm really excited to have him in the house... as I said to him yesterday, it'll be like having my own personal live-in Buddha!

The vegetables are blooming!! These are carrots:

Bib lettuce... green and red.

This will joyfully be my lunch today!

Where do we go nobody knows

What is this feeling I have tonight? I was flipping through old photographs from Guatemala... from the very first trip three years ago with Joshua. I looked so different. The innocence strikes me the most. In the revelation of a youth now departing, the magnitude to which my life and my self have undergone changes is what apprehends me the most. It is disconcerting in a painful way. Perhaps it is only painful because most of the time these days, I silently remark to myself on how I'm actually growing up. It's in the sudden contrast now, that the void becomes most obvious.

What makes me believe that I'm "growing up?" Is it a new-found sense of confidence, of comfort in one's own skin? Is it the badge of loss? Or is it something deeper... something inherently more painful... true loss of innocence. I relate it most to the point at which a child looses their belief in the make-believe world, when the child can no longer imagine universes to which they don't immediately know are not really real, but created by themselves. In these photographs of the twenty year old Jamie, she still believes in the magic of love. She still believes that love-making is soul-mergingly sacred and not just sometimes sex or "fucking," that her life is bound by fate, that perhaps there are spirits guiding her along, that her tarot cards really might hint of something true for the future, that the lover who just showed up on her doorstep was divinely guided there, to that spot, in that exact moment.

My life has changed. With it, my sense of wonder seems to have been likewise altered -- shifted, grounded by the harsh realities of, well, reality I suppose. But there is a profound sadness, a heart-breaking realization that goes along with this notion of "growing up" -- one that I'm really rather uncomfortable with.

The women in my family have been amazing mentors. Every step along the way I have looked to them as guiding lights, as role models for the way I should consider the world. Becoming an adult has been one great initiation right into this special club of women in my family. It has always been something I strived for, to be one of the "big girls," but now that I'm officially a big, grown up girl, I actually miss what I was before... the innocence of my childhood, that strain which carried over into my earliest twenties but which I fear has been lost to the necessity of being a "grown up."

There's tension here, and internal conflict. I've always personally prized my ability and continual quest for not only growth, but change... knowing how necessary and spiritually healthy it is. But with the changes, comes uncertainly, loss, and pain. Change, that thing I once held on such a magnificent pedistle, now seems more daunting to me than exciting, or even healthy. I don't want so much change anymore. And maybe this is just another piece of "growing up"... we slow down, settle. I suppose, if this is the natural course of things, I hope with all my heart that I do not lose or forget the things that are most important to me: a sense of personal freedom, belief in magic, faith in the spirit, and enchantment with the pure things in life like soft skin, basic loves, and sweet dreams.

I think if we put too much focus on society, all the beauty alive in the world of youth will escape our sights. Keep the eyes wide open, and the heart even wider.

(Photograph taken at age 21)

Your signal's found again

Because I need humor more than anything, I decided to include this cute little comic. It's a little belated, seeing as though Easter has just passed... but still with the general season nonetheless!! haha

This afternoon, I thought briefly about responding to an article on Religion Dispatches, but then thought better of it and decided to go ahead and ramble off on here instead. The blogsite tends to suck me into its vortex, usually by an interesting or provocative post title, and then before I know it I've read seven or eight articles by other authors and am running late to my next class or appointment.

This particular article caught my attention because it was about some of the very same issues I'd thought about the previous evening. It has to do with the Pulitzer Prize and the journalistic topics which were rewarded this prestigious award recently -- namely, the peices which exposed high-profile sex scandals. The author took his piece in the same direction that my own mind immediately went... (not to the sex itself, haha), but to the strange way in which a person's private sexual life can be used to impeach (as in the Clinton situation) someone from their political position or otherwise be cause for firing. I remember thinking when the Clinton "scandal" went down... or rather, I recall being perplexed by the fact that he was put on trial for... cheating on his wife?? Getting a "secret" blow job?? What perplexed me then, and perplexes me now, is how the public feels justified in making what really isn't our business, our business. It's their business. What in the hell does Clinton's getting a blow job, for instance, by his secretary have anything to do with the job he was doing as president? Granted, I understand the implications it sets forth about his personal morals or lack of sexual control, but by God, it wasn't rape. It was concensual. Sure, shame on them, but isn't that their business... not ours?

I can't help but wonder if there is a piece of the puzzle I'm missing... but I really don't think I am missing anything at all. I agree with the author of the RD blog -- Sex sells. We are a culture obsessed with sex. It reminds me of an interesting piece I heard on NPR yesterday about the way in which media has moved from sex now to violence, as a way to keep that "excitement" element alive, to keep our all-too-short attention spans fixed. I can't believe such "news stories" can actually be prized with the Pulitzer... are they really even "news," or are the just "gossip?"

Maybe I will post a comment on the article after all.

Anyway, last day of classes today. Now I have one week to pull it all off and get the heck out of dodge. I'm a big huge ball of pressurized stress. For the next eight days I'm not allowed to come out of my house. The only thing I will be doing is writing and studying.

Today's music selection: Beck; The Information album

Everybody steals somebody's heart away

This morning, I set him free. I did the one thing I haven't been able to do and never imagined I would or could do, as long as I have known him. I said goodbye.

I think it was just time. Time to turn the page. Time to go a different road. The memories, what I choose to hold, are beautiful beyond comparison. My life has been blessed to have shared a piece of him, his heart, his world, his love. I'm going to miss him, more than I can articulate really. But it is time. Time to set us both free.

Last night, after I had finished fine-tuning the outline for the final chapter of my thesis project, sipping a glass of wine on the porch, the thoughts came together with grace and finality. I considered these things: it has been nearly a year since we were truly together, over six months since sharing the same bed. I don't feel anymore like I know who he is, and this isn't to say I don't know who he is in the deepest parts of him... this, I will always know. But for his daily life, for this moment of his living, we are like strangers to one another. His friends are not my friends. We would get together maybe once a week, but usually once a month, for a cup of tea or to sit at the bench in the Decatur dog park. I had to ask myself yesterday, what kind of a friendship, even, was this? The flame of it lay so low the light barely pierced the darkness.

I'm sure the pain of severing ties is going to come barreling at me soon enough, but for now, I am going to try and enjoy the peace, the calm, and the serenity of having been honest, and thorough, and of having made a necessary change in my life. Knowing what one needs and wants is perhaps the most important part of daily living. I know what I want, and also what I need. I suspect, in this situation, knowing these two things will only help him have the same... what he wants, and what he needs.

I am also expecting a year-full, at least, of dreams saturated in his memory, as the emotions and the deeply embedded love works itself out. It's amazing sometimes, to realize just how profoundly our reality can shift. This was the person I was sure, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I would marry and spend the rest of my life with. We weaved our way through hell and back, we surmounted the highest obstacles, swam the most trecherous depths of rocky sea, and best of all we grew together. We learned so much from one another. And I only hope for him the very best of things in his life. Happiness. Love. Closeness with God. And prosperity, both for this world and the world to come.

In the words of my best friend, "And now, begin again."

Tonight's music selection: "Rihannon" by Stevie Nicks

Elevator Love Letter

Why is it that when I am at my most broke, I buy more things!? Well, I'm certainly doing my part to support this struggling economy. Here are two of the six new things I purchased this week. Not shown here: A terrific pencil a-line waste skirt with light gold pin stripes, a gold wrap belt, playful strappy black sandals, and a blue and pink striped cowgirl blouse.

Speaking of supporing the economy....

Wednesday we had a protest at the Capitol against the new taxes. T-party, I think they're calling it. I had a few friends attending and they came into the Krog for drinks afterwards. I've given a sort of half-assed attempt to understand what the issues are, and for the most part think I've got a mild grip on it all. Those who are invovled with the T-party seem to be against the bail-out. They don't want their own hard-earned money used to bail out other people and the struggling banks and businesses. I suppose I can understand this position, but on a deeper level, I don't necessarily agree with the position. I mean, we're living in a society of people, a national community. We are all connected to one another in an intricate way that we don't always realize. We depend on the wellfare of eachother in order for this community we've created -- America -- to survive, grow and prosper. I think people tend to forget that we can't each do it each on our own. We need one another, we need these big companies and big banks to do well. No one stands alone in this community. No one can be financially autonomous. Not really.

I think if we were to not bail these companies out, if we were to not help people struggling with loans they can't afford, a significant part of our economic infrastructure would collapse. The domino-effect of such a collapse would effect everyone. There's no way around this fact. It would be an ignorant and ill-begotten decision not to link hands beneath the financially struggling right now. So yes, maybe this is coming too close to socialism for comfort, for some. But there is certainly aspects of socialism which reign better than capitolism for the prosperity of a nation.

It all reminds me of a comment one of my customers said to me once, that totally took me off gaurd. I was dusting lamps one day at work, causually talking to a gentleman who had come in. I can't remember how the conversation came up, but I found myself telling the man that I really hoped with a new president we might see government provided healthcare for all. I explained to him that I felt this way because it was very difficult, being a student such as myself, to afford health insurance. In fact, I never could afford it, and remain uncovered. He didn't take kindly to this, but instead retorted, "why should I have to pay for you to have health insurance?"

I was shocked and dumbfounded that he had the gaul and lack of care or empathy to say such a thing. Why should he chip in to provide healthcare for college students like myself?? Because it would ensure the safety of our nation's youth!! Because it would secure the growth and propserity of the youth who do seek to educate themselves, who have the intelligence and drive to become contributing citizens to this nation! I pay taxes too. Afterall, what are taxes for?! What is the government for?! It was such a cold, capitolist, individualist remark. Let him then, go live on his own island, and ask of me nothing -- no help, no service. My own taxes contribute to his life too, including his children if they attend public school... how quick he was to forget that fact.

That's all I have for that little soapbox.

The symposium was fantastic yesterday. I enjoyed all of the panelists!! Although, it did run a little too long, as always... I was starving by the end of the program. Mom and David came along, and I felt somewhat bad that they didn't really understand what anyone was talking about... so much religious studies jargon! They enjoyed the ceremony though, and meeting the significant people who have helped shaped my educational experience -- namely Dr. Khan (on a much more personal level) and Dr. Herman (for guiding me through the trenches of thesis writing). I was severely disappointed in realizing that I could have submitted my paper to the panel, given a certain "unattended." I'm actually grateful for this, as I can well imagine it would have been difficult and uncomfortable for the both of us, especailly with my parents there. Two more weeks and I'm free from Georgia State, free from those all-too-present memories, free from the gut-rentching possibilities of running into one another in uncomfortable circumstances.

Anyway... it's a bangly bangle kind of day today!! The sun is gorgeous, the air is crisp, and the thesis is flowing smoothly and briskly. And best of all, I don't have to work this evening.

Time like your cheek has turned for me

Today was actually pleasurable, which came as a real respite given the high anxiety and inevitable disappointments revolving around math for the last week.

I studied until my eyes hurt, until the world spun... I had it down by Sunday night. Or so I thought. A total of about 30 hours spent studying before the exam became a blank stare with a blank mind when the test was put in front of me. I simply forgot everything, every formula I had worked on, every definition I'd hammered down. All of it went clear out of my mind. I was so upset when I left the exam. It was one of those days that could really only be rectified by a hearty glass of wine (or two).

I learned a new word today: Inimical. It means: adverse in tendency or affect; unfavorable; harmful; unfriendly; hostile; cold.

Math is inimical to my emotional well-being.

Tomorrow is the religious studies student symposium. I'm either getting or not getting an honors cord (the emails have been so confusing as to what day they're being given), but what I will have is a strong supporter by my side! I went shopping today to find a nice summery-springy dress to wear, but came back with only a bunch of cute tops. I reconciled that I was doing my part to welcome the economy back with open arms (by abusing my poor, aching credit card). Rag-o-rama really came through for me on summer tops. But no dresses. Alas!

Jessica has a sewing nook!! I must, must, must have one too!! Not just because she has one, but because it's awesome and I've always wanted to make my own clothes. She is a great source of inspiration to actually make me do it... and what a terrific summer project!

Finally find out what it means to be living

I absolutely adore this photograph of me and the Finnster. Just look at that smile!! I want to gobble him up (and it looks like I'm just about to)! He is such a beautiful little boy, with two beautiful, happy parents.

It was such a pleasure (and oh so needed!) to spend time with everyone. I think I have the "baby bug" now, stronger than ever. Surprisingly, I found that I have a great deal of patience with children, including the high-pitched squealer Kate (5yrs) and her rambunctious, stubborn little brother Eli (1.5yrs). Children are a joy!

It's also really interesting to see Jessica again, after such a long period of time apart. The first moment I set eyes on her, I was flooded with the impression of her deep and gorgeous changes. It's almost hard to explain, seeing someone this way -- but I became instantly aware of the magnitude to which she has grown, and the strong light of motherhood shinning from her was one of the most lovely things I have ever seen. She is simply glowing. Her husband, Scott, has undergone a lot of changes too... changes which manifest in him physically. He seems older, more mature, his hair (that wild Jew-fro!!) is amazing, and looks different than before. It reflects an aging of sorts; again, hard to explain.

In other updates of loved ones, I recieved an email recently from Clint in Florida. The letter was difficult to read, to be honest. It was a very long one, talking about his daily life, his work as a tutor for young children, etc. What bothered me about the letter, though, was the way in which he views himself in relation to the world. He has this elevated sense of himself, somewhat illusory, really, of being a "higher" being, of having "mystical" powers -- unique "spiritual" powers that he thrusts upon others, as if he were a prophet. It seems to me, the truly spiritual don't talk about their being spiritual. At least, this is how Buddhism has most often described the "spiritually mature" souls, and I believe this as well. To have the qualities of a saint, or even a prophet, really ought to require an incredible amount of super-human humbleness. Clint seems to become more and more eccentric as the years go by, a little more "out there." I don't know how someone can see themselves as such a deeply spiritual person, and then have sex willingly with a crack-addict the next day. Something is deeply wrong there. The main thing, however, is this: it truly is a miraculous moment when one realizes they are "tapped in" to the undercurrent of their life, like when one is able to know something is coming or about to happen, and it does... but the difference between someone who is spiritually mature and someone who is not, seems to be in the recognition that the premonition, if you wish to call it such, comes not from themselves but from a source larger than themselves. This is the beauty of being human, and really... the beauty of getting to know God. Clint sees these occurances in himself as his own, he takes ownership of them, and this concerns me a great deal because it reveals an ego-driven desire for spiritual power. Yet the illusion is that there is no "person" with these special powers, or abilities. It is a fine line that not many can understand -- a delicate veil that stands between ego and true spirit.

Front yard news: When more money comes in, I've decided on a Dogwood tree for the front corner. I'd like daisies in the flower bed, and some sort of ground-cover flower for the main bed. I should have planted Tulips last fall... I'm yearning for those right now after seeing the house down the street with a walkway lined in them!

This is little Miss Kate, after Jess and I braided her hair. (photo on the right)

In a minute I'll be strong

"Driven" - First Draft

We were children, once,
in the middle of a suburban street,
breaking into the forbidden night
with a dream raging in our minds, soldiering us
to the beat of its eager drum. You pointed up
into the dark starlit sky, at the trapeze of telephone wires
above our heads and said you could feel the buzzing
like a tattoo needle beneath your skin.
We hopped a fence, talked of a midnight swim,
dangled virgin feet by the poolside and peered
into the mirrored center
of our universe.

It’s a young spring morning
and the birds are sounding their wake-up call,
never missing a note.
When the chirping stops, scared off by the loud
hiss of a bus in transit,
we are all up from our nests,
driven by the rush, that massive push --
Hurry, chafes the voice.

I think of Kunitz in his end days,
scuffling the garden path in his house slippers,
counting new bulbs, carefully
plucking the dried ends of old ones,
slowly and quietly repeating the lines in his head,
driven by a rush, a massive push,
of something more sacred,
stronger and deeper, and yet he moved
among the bush bottoms like a humpbacked turtle,
stretching a wrinkled paper neck
to peer into the mirrored center
of the universe.

I feel like this poem wants to say more in the middle. It's been hard to squeeze out words today, like trying to wring water from a dry towel.

I woke up this morning starving for the depth of spirit that use to pervade my life. Of course, I know it's always there, but more a matter of whether or not we're paying attention to it - giving it room to reveal itself. I miss long quiet mornings. I miss having someone to talk nature with -- Nature, is my religion. I worship nature the way a Christian bows in front of a holy cross. I burn to spend every moment submerged in a forest, in the dirt, tending to God's intricate dress. Nature is where I can touch God, where I can feel God, smell God... SEE God. Even in the city, I've been able to keep this love, this relationship alive. I made time for it. Sometimes, I stray from the table where it and I meet. I get more absorbed in other things, drifting farther and farther away until I wake up one morning, aching with need.

I remember when we use to make love, and everything felt so fresh... on mornings like these. The need wasn't there. My cups were full and brimming.

Whatever you want, You're so fucking special

Oh Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead... how you remind me of Bret Lanier, and his long-lost but never once forgotten "Raptor" impression.

"Oh, I have made myself a tribe out of my true affections, and my tribe is scattered! How shall the heart be reconciled to its feast of losses?" -From The Layers, by Stanley Kunitz

There are things in life we don't expect. That one special person we think we'll end up with, do we really? Or is the secret of life really hiding in the unexpected? Friends we think we'll have forever, perhaps we take them for granted, like we do our lovers on occasion. And then one night, they're gone... stolen from their own front door step. True death or "felt" death -- I'm not so sure there is a difference when the loss amounts to the same level of being without.

Two gut-renching movies, with two very different endings: Children of Men; Slumdog Millionaire. I watched them both today, and I feel emotionally exhausted. Some days we don't really get to decide what we truly want to do. If I'd had it my way today, I would have stayed at home all day, cleaned out my closets... studied. Some invisible force still drives us onward, and we deal with the changes as they come, as best we can.

I had prepared a list of "rants" today, mainly against the ridiculousness of pop-culture and the strange society I constantly find myself not understanding. Actually, I think it's not that I don't understand it... I think I just choose not to. I've been called naive for being so "out of touch." Is it really naivete?? Or just conscious aloofness? Still, I know I am as much a product of this society as I am human. The two are imbedded in one another. Unless I were enlightened. But that would be a bird of another color!

There's really no point to this post. I hope my one intended reader, Misses Sapoznick, wont be expecting one from me. But I hope she knows I'm thinking of her (and praying we both have cameras soon to keep taking our pictures!), that I love her and miss her tenderly... and I hope, that I never once take her presence in my life for granted. Sometimes, I think it's really all I've got to hold on to.

Stand on honest ground

So I made lentil hummus today. Yes, Lentil hummus. It's fantastic. To be completely honest, I was out of garbanzos beans but due to my constant craving for hummus (it's unexplainable) I decided the dusty can of lentils in the back of the pantry would have to do. And boy, did it ever!!

I would post a picture for you here, but hummus really isn't a pretty dish. Here's what I put in this little number (and I totally whipped this one out of thin air): marinated artichoke hearts, pimientos, seasame tahini (only a tablespoon), lots of lemon juice, fresh ground cumin, thyme, garlic, salt and pepper and olive oil. The flavors just rock. The artichokes make a great contribution to the flavor, and are probably the most showcased ingredient on the palate. The cumin adds a touch of smokiness. The lemon and pimientos give a nice tang.

Among other things...
Spring is here, and it's beautiful. I need to get out and snap some photos soon, if I ever get a day with sunshine! On my run this afternoon I was really enjoying the fresh air so full of newly born wisteria blooms. The dogwoods are bursting clusters like popcorn! I think the Dogwood is what makes me love Georgia, and always reminds me of my home. This is where I come from. The land of Dogwoods. The street I grew up on as a kid was lined in dogwood trees on both sides.

School = stress right now. Two math exams, a math project, a ten page paper, and this thesis to complete... all in three weeks. My magic-erase board is full of appointments and deadlines. Wednesday I have an interview for a tutoring position. It would be a terrific gig if I land it. Teaching a child one-on-one Monday through Friday from 8am to 1pm. I'd have a normal life with normal working hours. And it would provide me the time to work on writing and trying to get some things published. I need to investigate more poetry outlets, and try to find good places to submit. I've also been jotting down a list of ideas for short stories that I'd like to put together this summer.

Aaaand... I need to drive out to Missouri soon. I miss that sweet little family!!! I want to see Finn's baby teeth sprouting up, eat some of Jess's yummy desserts, and laugh at Scott's antics. I miss my best friend.