bird by bird

It's been one week post-election, and man I'm still feeling so. blue. More than blue, I'm feeling what Holly Golighly in Breakfast at Tiffany's calls the "mean reds." She explains, "the blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?" That's precisely how I've been feeling these past 7 days, with the only difference being that I know exactly what I'm afraid of.  I'm afraid that the Marriage Equality Act is going to be repealed, taking away what I consider a basic human right for gay Americans and a lot of my closest friends.  I'm afraid that Donald Trump is going to deport or incarcerate 3 million illegal immigrants, including children, (a s he has promised ) thus ripping apart families and ruining the lives of some of Americ

I've debated writing this post primarily because I don't consider myself a very political person. I watch the news and I proudly wear that little sticker when I vote, but when it comes to politics, I'll admit that I could use a refresher of my 11th grade government class. There is a lot that I don't know. But, there is also a lot that I do know. And that is this: Immigration reform is important to me because immigrants are important to me. I taught English as a Second Language (ESL) at a multicultural center in South Dakota where our mission was "Welcoming the Stranger," and I've tried to live my life that way because we have all been strangers at some point. I have worked as an ESL teacher in South Dakota and in NYC, and I want a world of bridges, not of walls. That's one reason I'm with her. I earned my bachelors and my master's degree at a state school, and I had scholarships, and teaching assistantships, and part time jobs. I worked re

The 2nd best cover of this song I've heard (first place goes to my dad)

Love at First Sight by Jennifer Maier You always hear about it— a waitress serves a man two eggs over easy and she says to the cashier, That is the man I’m going to marry, and she does. Or a man spies a woman at a baseball game; she is blond and wearing a blue headband, and, being a man, he doesn’t say this or even think it, but his heart is a homing bird winging to her perch, and next thing you know they’re building birdhouses in the garage. How do they know, these auspicious lovers? They are like passengers on a yellow bus painted with the dreams of innumerable lifetimes, a packet of sepia postcards in their pocket. And who’s to say they haven’t traveled backward for centuries through borderless lands, only to arrive at this roadside attraction where Chance meets Necessity and says, What time do you get off?

Once I made it to Denver, I unpacked my Jeep and put all my belongings in LS's storage unit (Thanks, girl!). LS graciously let me stay with her in Englewood for my first week while I got settled, and all I really remember from that week was aggressively trying to reconnect with every single person that I knew in this city. A job and apartment would come eventually,  I figured, but I needed friends, and I needed friends stat. That week I had breakfast with JF at Snooze, a picnic with KS in Wash Park, lunch with WL, a baseball game with AI, and even a blind friend date with another friend's friend SH. Oh yeah, I meant business. The hardest part of leaving New York was leaving the people, so that was the first box I needed to check in Denver, and I will say, I did a pretty damn good job. 10 days into my new Denver life, I moved into a 7-week sublet in West Wash Park with two fat cats named Crookshanks and Chow. Their owner/kitty mama was on a backpacking adventure in Slovenia,

On Friday, June 4th I drove for 12 hours straight; that's as many hours in one day as I had driven in the past 6 years combined . And I drove it with my mom. We left South Dakota at 8:00AM and 6 bathroom breaks, 700+ miles, and 1 failed Snapchat tutorial* later we had arrived. This is our (snap) story: *I attempted to make a Snap Story of our road trip, but my creativity was stunted by the apparent need for me to stay in our lane. I tried to verbally teach my mom the finer points of snapchat while driving, but if you can imagine that was a total disaster. God lover her for trying!

So, I live in Denver now! I've actually been here a full three and a half months already, but I haven't been  fully inspired to sit down and write about it until now (when I have literally a hundred other things I need to do #typical). This has been such a challenging, illuminating, and fun time in my life that I need to stop, drop, and write now more than ever, and quick! before I forget everything! Here's what I remember and don't ever want to forget. I left NYC on Friday, May 27th at 5AM. Uber prices were surging, so I stood on a street corner with 6 rats (I counted) scurrying by my feet until I spotted a yellow cab.  I bartered with the driver to take me to Newark airport for a flat rate of $100, and the sun came up as we drove West, over the Brooklyn Bridge toward Manhattan, then under the tunnel to New Jersey. As we drove, I tried to breath in every last New York City drop but my Coldplay-level of feelings were interrupted by my driver who was curious about

After My Big Heartbreak last summer, I couldn't imagine sitting across the table with another man and feeling attracted/attractive/happy/hopeful again. At first I needed some time to be by myself, to practice self-care and mourn the loss of what had been so far my greatest love, but eventually just like Stella I finally got my groove back. I am so glad I did because this is who I met:

1. Denver, Colorado! 2. I'm ready for a new adventure. 3. No, I don't have a job yet. 4. No, I don't have an apartment yet. 5. Yes, I do have some friends and family there. 6. Yes, I am sad to leave New York. 7. 5 and a half years. 8. Thanks so much! --End Scene--

By: Marge Piercy Some people move through your life like the perfume of peonies, heavy and sensual and lingering. Some people move through your life like the sweet musky scent of cosmos so delicate if you sniff twice, it’s gone. Some people occupy your life like moving men who cart off couches, pianos and break dishes. Some people touch you so lightly you are not sure it happened. Others leave you flat with footprints on your chest. Some are like those fall warblers you can’t tell from each other even though you search Petersen’s. Some come down hard on you like a striking falcon and the scars remain and you are forever wary of the sky. We all are waiting rooms at bus stations where hundreds have passed through unnoticed and others have almost burned us down and others have left us clean and new and others have just moved in.

Five years ago when people asked me why I was moving to New York, the best answer I could give was, "Because it's New York, that's why." It sounds a little arrogant now looking back, but for the most part, people understood what I meant. New York is the epicenter of art, business, culture, fashion (and all the other sections of the NYTimes), and so it didn't take a lot of explaining when I told people I was leaving SD for NY. But now I'm getting asked that same question about my upcoming move to Denver. "Why Denver?" I am asked. I'm finding the answer to be harder to nail down. So I thought about it, and here's why ...Because I grew up on the prairie and then moved to the city, and now, as they say, "the mountains are calling and I must go." ...Because I crave a fresh start and fresher air. ...Because I want to be closer to home, closer to my mom and her cat and our lake cabin and an airport that I can fly directly into. ...Because

"If you grew up around alcoholism, one of the first things you learned to do was agree not to see what was really going on." --Anne Lamott

One night about six months ago, I had a dream that we were on a trip together, in a wooded area in Latvia. We were in a tourist group led by my Colombian friend Santiago, and we were climbing over rocks and leaves and broken branches. We stumbled upon a part in the trail where there was a massive swarm of bees that we had no choice but to walk through. I could physically feel hundreds of bees bouncing off my skin, arms, face, and I looked to you knowing that these tiny stinging bugs were your biggest fear. I saw terror in your eyes, and for a moment you reminded me of my father. You looked like a small boy, in the frame of a 31 (now 32) year-old-man. I opened up a big black umbrella and I promised you that if you took cover with me, I would protect you from them. I'd get you through the bees. We tried to use the umbrella as a shield, and I used my body to cover yours as best as I could, but it didn't work. I couldn't protect, shield, save you. I woke up knowing that this wo

  “…quite simply, I was in love with New York. I do not mean "love" in any colloquial way, I mean that I was in love with the city, the way you love the first person who ever touches you and you never love anyone quite that way again. I remember walking across Sixty-second Street one twilight that first spring, or the second spring, they were all alike for a while. I was late to meet someone but I stopped at Lexington Avenue and bought a peach and stood on the corner eating it and knew that I had come out out of the West and reached the mirage. I could taste the peach and feel the soft air blowing from a subway grating on my legs and I could smell lilac and garbage and expensive perfume and I knew that it would cost something sooner or later—because I did not belong there, did not come from there”   ― Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem