I’m fighting off some bit of sickness these days.  And when I wake up and waddle over to stove to heat up some water for tea, I find the vitamins out of the cupboard and on the counter.  I suspect my husband, who is by then at work, does this for me.

And this small thing makes me feel well cared for.

A surprising discovery:

I have a better day when I know the kitchen is clean.

Which means I’m totally becoming a grown-up.

Which I totally don’t mind-

if it means I’ll keep the kitchen cleaner.

What other things do you think mark a person as “growing up?”

Today I am thankful that sometimes what we are given is more wonderful than what we would want for ourselves. I’m thankful for surprise snowy nightime walks to buy sweet potatoes and that wet leaves on the ground look so pretty. I am thankful for Guitar Hero and how the sun comes out from behind the clouds on a slightly snowy morning. I am thankful for old pie recipes and a woman that makes them so well and speaks the sweetest things. I am thankful for Anne of Green Gables on PBS on a sweet potato baking morning and the aunts and grandma that enjoy her as much as I do.

I am thankful for spinach salad, purple potatoes as I cut them, and bourbon in pecan pie.

I am thankful for good stories on the radio. For people who call random phone booths just to learn about people. I am thankful to sit at the “kids table” with a bunch of young men and women and drink sparkling grape juice and laugh big hearty laughs with big hearty plates of food. I am thankful my cousins are so vibrant and such good story tellers. I am thankful to be a lot like my aunts. I am thankful to have such great uncles and a great, funny grandfather.

I am thankful for the heaps of wonderful people around me. I am thankful for my job. I am thankful I don’t have to work this weekend. I am thankful for Norwegian class. I am thankful for language and the power of words on the tongue and on paper.

I am thankful for the words “sassafras” and “succotash” and “ristretto macchiato in a mug.” I am thankful for whisky and the night sky in the country. I am thankful for my husband who is making me laugh right now, for his warm eyes, kind hands and heart.

I am thankful that we have the capacity for gratitude.

I am thankful for you.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone. I hope your day is full of joy and your pecan pie is full of bourbon.

I enjoyed today. I enjoyed waking up early to skip class, make muffins, do yoga, and kiss Adam. Kissing Adam was the best part. I enjoyed the mist and rain and watching people walk by the big windows at work in giant umbrellas. I like working at a coffee shop on cold drizzly days when people wear soft scarves and linger a while longer.

I enjoyed the people I work with. I enjoyed a long break with poems by the fireplace. I enjoyed knowing that beginning tomorrow afternoon, I have a long, lovely weekend to look forward to.

Today at work, Bill and I talked about marraige and what it means to us and why. I spoke, but it was difficult for me. It usually is when I am talking about something very dear to me. It’s hard to explain why I think it’s nice to promise to devote myself to someone forever and put their life above mine. But I do think it’s nice. I think it is rich and good and forges character through the difficult bits.

Sometimes I wonder if I am a naive or foolish for thinking that there is more for us in this world than complacency. Sometimes I think I might be. But it doesn’t matter much either way, because it’s worth a shot. And so far, I have found so much more than complacency.

Today was thick with foggy air, clouds, and milky earl grey tea- the best of autumn weather.  It was one of those days I was forced to eat the heavy bitter medicine of my humility, but I ate it with poems, wine, and homemade zucchini pizza.

Today I like misty weather, men with nice hats in the morning, yellow ties, my cat in a bow-tie, big envelopes for stories, Joni Mitchell, and music that gives me courage.

Today I like kind hugs, husbands that make me happy, and stacks and stacks of books.

You?

Today, I got to spend a few rare hours with a very good friend. We wanted a good ole American breakfast in a cafe somewhere, somewhere cheap and vegetarian friendly.

We got sushi with miso soup and vegetable tempura and cup after cup of the best green tea I’ve had.

And of course she made me laugh and laugh, and we made a bit of a scene wherever we went. Even at the dance performance where Janelle had to have the last clap and we chuckled a bit too loudly when that little girl was whining in that funny way.

Adam said that you could hear Janelle and I walking down the street together a block away. It wasn’t an exaggeration.

Who do you make a scene with?

thanksgiving #1

Thanks for the dark when I wake up early for work. Thanks for earl grey with cream and honey. Thanks for girls to drink tea with and art to talk about. Thanks for people who wake up early on a Saturday just to walk to a coffee shop and read the paper by a fire. Thanks for the people who tell me about their day and ask me about Thanksgiving. Thanks for people who leave their New York Times behind for me to take home. Thanks for good music to hear while I walk.

Thanks for red wool coats on cold mornings.

Thanks for husbands that do the dishes in their boxers. Thanks for long much needed naps. Thanks for delivery pizza and blankets and couches.

Thanks for friends by fireplaces. Thanks for Lorinda’s way of telling her favourite stories, especially Corduroy. Thanks for Caleb’s crazy antics and Hannah’s warm kisses. Thanks for Lacey being so beautiful and good conversation being so abundant. Thanks for favourite little books and people excited to talk about them. Thanks for cranberry everything and mashed potatoes with rosemary. Thanks for cider and coffee and green polka-dot ties.

And thanks for a husband that turns the car around on the way home just to go to the bookstore and buy me Cordurouy.

Some scribblings on living with Hannah Guerra:

I always thought that Hannah was the most beautiful of us. Her face was rosy and radient, full of the natural honesty of leaves and flowers. She wore openness on that face and unmatching socks on her feet tucked into shoes with the heels worn into the soles. She burped loudly and without apology and ate peanut butter out of the jar with ferver. Hannah broke all the rules I created for myself of womanly propriety, and she did it with such glad grace that it built up her womanhood rather than diminishing it. It made her something of a wonder to me.

Thanks, Zee!

1. I like Adam to rub my head when I’m nervous or scared during a movie. It makes me feel safe.

2. I love vegetables. Few things are more delicious to me than a big pan of them roasted in the oven.

3. I love the scent of walnuts in their green shell. When I’m out walking and I see one, I pick it up and smell it untill I can’t smell it anymore.

4. I like repition. If Adam says something I like, I make him say it over and over. I read nice letters and e-mails dozens of times before tucking them away. I don’t tire of my favourite books.

5. I like having candles lit at night.

6. I’ve never liked frosting much. I was one of those kids that scraped off the frosting and ate the cake, even though I wished I liked it, so I could scramble for the big, pretty frosting flowers like the other girls.

7. My favourite character in The Brothers Karamazov is Ivan.

I’ve been tagged by Zee to tell you seven strange things about myself. I will do that some day soon. But today, I just want to say that after searching myself for the girl that carried her stacks of books into the yellow house late one March, I find myself holding a wealth of memories with a fragrance I had forgotten. I’m a bit startled by the stories we carry with us. I’m startled by the bredth of our experience. I’m startled that lonliness is real and that it aches like it does. I’m startled by the raw pain of heartbreak. I’m startled by the depth of love we are capable of. I’m startled that there there is healing and death gives way to life.

I just feel thankful tonight that I get to live in this world of living and dying, and that I am lucky enough to be able to celebrate it.