bird by bird

Today I was dropping off some packages at a UPS store and an older man with a straggly beard and slight limp walked in and said, "I need to ship this here trombone to this here address." That was my first smile of the day.

Engaged couples have professional photos taken. Newborns have professional photos taken. Families have professional photos taken. Why can't a rock solid girl gang have professional photos taken too?!  That's what I thought.  Thanks CH for being alive, turning 30, and preserving this moment in time with 9 women who love you so much.  (Photos by the talented and patient  Michael Tucker )

Lately I've been having the kind of days when your shoulders feel heavy and tasks like not being able to open a jar of salsa make you want to burst into dramatic Disney-princess tears. For no particular reason, lately I kinda can't get a grip. But one day last week as I was driving home from work feeling tense and unreasonably melancholy, I got stuck behind a slow Fed Ex truck on Monaco Parkway, and I thought, "Of course this would happen to me!" And then the truck started to slow down for no reason, and I threw my hands in the air with frustration like a real diva. Then I watched as the truck driver extended his arm out of his window and offered a homeless person on the side of the road the rest of his Popeye's chicken. The homeless person accepted the food, smiled, and the driver sped up with the rest of traffic. The whole transaction lasted 10 seconds at most, and a week later I can't stop thinking about it. It's not because it was such a profound act...

I've been re-reading old drafts of blog posts and journal entries, and I've both cackled in laughter and wept bitter tears at stories that I had written but didn't deem worthy of sharing. I'm going to try to be better at that, starting with this little guy I wrote 1 month before leaving New York City. "Half of me is so excited about and hopeful for my new life in CO. I daydream about a new apartment containing shelves filled with every book I own, at least 8 thriving houseplants, and an over-sized arm chair in a sun-kissed corner. I imagine myself driving in my jeep--music blaring--finally able to sing out loud. I think about having a career again--not just a job, but a place where I can do the work I think I was meant to do. I long for a job title without the word "assistant" in it. I fantasize about having a bank account that contains a bigger positive number than a negative one, and because of that, the ability to travel and give and host. I dream ab...