Blood Bank

Well I met you at the blood bank
We were looking at the bags
Wondering if any of the colors
Matched any of the names we knew on the tags

You said "See look it! That's yours
Stacked on top with your brother's
See how they resemble one another?
Even in their plastic little covers..."

And I said I know it well

That secret that you know
That you don't know how to tell
It fucks with your honor
And it teases your head
But you know that it's good, girl
Cause it's running you with red

Then the snow started falling
We were stuck out in your car
You were rubbing both my hands
Chewing on a candy bar
You said "Ain't this just like the present?
To be showing up like this.."
There's a moon waning crescent
We started to kiss

And I said I know it well

That secret that we know
That we don't know how to tell
I'm in love with your honor
I'm in love with your cheeks
What's that noise up the stairs baby?
Is that Christmas morning?

And I know it well...

--Bon Iver

If you don't eat yer meat, you can't have any pudding.

I had midterms last week. I spent four weeks studying my ass off, giving up shifts at work and carrying flashcards with me at all times. Yet despite my preparedness, I wasn't really all that prepared. I walked into my exams with a feeling of unease and walked out with scores that were barely above passing. After all of that time and effort, it kind of sucked. I wanted to be proud of myself and instead I felt as though I just skirted by. But hey, at least I don't have the retake them. Up next is proficiency exams: a horrific day of testing that covers all of the information covered in the first year of my program. There are five separate tests and a fail on any of them means you can't progress in the program.

I am kissing my social life goodbye.


I've been on break for the past week. It has been absolutely glorious. I took three days off of work just to hang out at home and stimulate the right side of my brain, which has been lying dormant since JANUARY. I don't remember the last time I took off work that long and didn't leave the city. I went to yoga, I painted, I broke out the sewing machine, I cooked, and I relaxed. And on Wednesday, the snow started falling hard and didn't stop until Thursday night. It came down in soft complacent flakes, the kind that make you want to stick your tongue out and tilt your head up in the air. And I had nothing at all to do except turn up the heat, put a pot of lamb chili on the stove, and listen to music. By the time it was all over with, Denver was covered in two feet of pristine powder.

True to Colorado form, it was fifty degrees out there yesterday. The sun was shining and the cozy silence of the falling snow was replaced by gutters dripping water and cars driving through slush. Everything started melting and the neighborhood became a messy juxtaposition of fall and winter.


Meanwhile, Phish fans from everywhere commenced in the middle of the California desert for Festival 8. My decision not to go based on finances and homework (ugh, when did I become so responsible?) didn't really plague me until last Wednesday when I started receiving updates from all of my buddies meeting up in LA. Old habits die hard, and soon I was glued to my computer scouting for cheap plane tickets and trying to figure out how I could skip work and still pay rent. Turns out I am getting old and boring...I bailed on the last minute trip and spent the night at home typing my Materia Medica and LISTENING TO THE SHOW LIVE. Yes, I listened to the show live on Sirius radio. And took Bailey for a walk during the set break.

As my friend Jeff pointed out, we used to wait weeks for bootlegs of shows to come in the mail. And you didn't even know if the recording you were getting was going to be good or not. And now you can get online, stream the show live at a better quality than most people are probably getting at the actual venue, and walk your dog while everyone at the concert is hugging and standing in the porta-potty line after the first set. Unreal. The old soul in me is wary of all this technology, but I do love my iPhone and the next best thing to wishing you were at a Phish festival with all of your friends is saving that money (and the hangover) and rocking out to it in your living room. Now if only there was a way to get an In-n-Out cheeseburger monster style delivered after the encore...

Back to school on Monday. Part of me wishes someone would either kidnap or roof me for the next five weeks. The good news is that Copper Mountain opens next week and I can distract myself whenever I want. As if I have a problem with that anways.

And I love this photo.

Notes from South Africa #4 and #5

I've been agonizing about how far behind I am on posting Patty's latest stories from South Africa, and now it doesn't matter because these wonderful and amazing people she knows made her a website. Hooray! All of her tales and photographs are on there, and there is a link to where you can donate money to Project Bobbi Bear.

I know that her posts have been heartbreaking, but these last couple are really uplifting--she is making such a difference in the lives of these women and children and it is so inspiring (check out the section on Lady Fair for the best update EVER). So please, please, PLEASE go check it out and throw in a few bucks if you have them...the longer that we turn our heads to something that doesn't directly affect us, the worse it becomes.

We're all in this together, folks. Happy reading!

Beautiful.

via newtoyork

You really like me?

So the wonderful and fabulous Melvyn Master sent The Daniel Story (I revised it...the ending is more succinct and I took out all the f-bombs) to a bunch of very important people that he knows. And today, my little blog received 248 hits. It normally gets around 7. Or not even.

It's kind of like a bunch of cool people showed up at your house when you weren't expecting company, and your hair is disheveled and you aren't wearing a bra and the bed isn't made and your dishes are still in the sink. But many of you read my writing, and some of you sweet people left comments, and I just wanted to thank you. Throwing my thoughts into cyberspace with the possibility that someone might see them was a leap of faith, and to know that people jive with it is a pretty stellar feeling.

So yeah. Thanks for coming over.

Heirlooms from Mom's garden...