today i'm wearing

a bright blue sweater the same color as my birds and it makes me happy. i'm breathing much better in maternity pants and sighing with relief to no longer be fighting my clothes.

yard sale on saturday was fun and fruitful, but as soon as i got home i saw a lot more i could sell. maybe we'll have 2.0 sometime this spring.

feeling grateful, inspired, and only a little bit exhausted. the cool weather seems to be bolstering my spirit even as i wrap in wool to escape it.

talking with my best friend revealed a lot of fears i hadn't voiced or even entertained and now they are ghost fears - out in the air and out of my head. she's good like that.

unable and unwilling to rein in my imagination, as broad as it is around this little non-descript, faceless person growing there under my swelling belly.

wishing he or she could have met my namesake, wishing the same for pretty much anyone. wondering if she'll show up in this new life in some way.

happy that i can be home and really be there without a thousand things on a to-do list, real or imagined, when cooking dinner is the epic task in front of me.

always dumbfounded by the generosity of people that grows out of their excitement over new life, and how this makes me so hopeful for the world. we still celebrate babies.

list or two

craving:

juice in the morning, over ice. heartburn be damned
water
watermelon
the written word
time away from my desk
savory things, mushroom tarts and curry

missing:

sushi
being in school
my sister
evening sunlight

loving:

sleep
my husband’s new(ish) daddy persona
cool, sunny afternoons
brothers who cook
my mom and dad, more than ever
guiltless relaxation
the occasional smell of wood fire in the air
bright blue skies
scarves
peace
anticipation

forgetting:

imagined obligations
real obligations, within reason
hurtful things
clutter
what I need from the grocery store
to dust
worry
fear

Yes we can.

The right man was chosen for the highest post and there is joy to be had. I'm enjoying a little post-election glow from the reddest of red states, and looking forward to a spirit of cooperation and unity and some progress. Finally, some progress.

If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, "thank you," that would suffice. - Meister Eckhardt

all the good things –

my house in fall – white siding, black shutters, red door, nandinas, and scarlett–tipped dogwoods

time with friends in the kitchen or on the deck

babies walking for the first time

how blue the sky looks behind the yellow and orange patchwork of leaves on my drive to work

seeing the outline of mountains when those leaves start to fall

brisk sunny days

reading to my belly

cold, crisp apples

organizing closets and simplifying

snuggling

working on a pomegranate and savoring the rubies inside

thinking of spring and how different our lives will be

hope that catches in my throat

"If I have the belief that I can do it, I shall surely acquire the capacity to do it even if I may not have it at the beginning." Mohandas Gandhi

A sweet beginning :)

What teaching taught me:

How little I know.
How much I know.
How much I care.
How lucky I am to be able to read. Really read. And enjoy it.
How I’m a bit off-base teaching English and maybe I should be teaching something else.
How important it is.
How I took my teachers and professors for granted.
How God provides.
How planning can only take me so far. A lesson I continue to learn.
How a few, real intellectual connections are worth all the bored sighs.
How I know I’ll always do it, somehow.

"Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree." -- Emily Bronte

It's Fall somewhere, I just know it.

I'm ready to say goodbye to a blazing hot steering wheel and wardrobe dysfunction (hot outside, frigid at work), and to hurricane season. We need rain, but does it have to come in such a violent way? I'm ready to relinquish the self-tanner on my pale legs and body dysmorphia in general.

I'm ready for burnt orange and blazing yellow leaves. For my Nandinas to turn crimson. To sleep with the windows open and burn pumpkin-scented candles. To stir huge pots of chili and layer under light sweaters. For big, sweet apples and family gatherings. For the anticipation of Christmas.

Come, Fall, and briskly.