little sarah Big World

Tag: long walks

The View from Today

Judge Not

Lunch was tahini on cracker bread with tuna. Plus apples, which I added about halfway through.

Before that was housework, and writing, and the internet. After was more of the same, plus a walk.

Enter Exit Mouth

There was a long-distance phone call, and linguistic explorations, frozen grapes and home-made ice cream.

Laundry, blogging, music, and dinner for two.

*       *       *

Took the IUD out; took the edge off. Now my Mondays are Mondays, and I’m fine with that.

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Water, Water, Everywhere

Overgrowth

Writer’s block, Friends, which is strange, because I’m surrounded by an ocean of experience, yet the words trickle out, haphazardly. Not even a stream, more like a leak, and never on command. Every day I am out there living, feeling, seeing and learning and wondering. I do my best to capture it, but the thoughts and pictures seem stuck in my head, lost in translation (if you will), and I just don’t know where to begin.

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Simplify

(w/ Chad)

And so we turn towards simplicity. Towards sanity and good health, and that means early morning runs and healthy, home-cooked meals, fewer vices and better sleep.

Our first meal cooked together!

It means long walks and longer talks, checking in every morning, and after work, and before bed. It means facing our problems (for me: job stress and anxiety) head-on, rationally, and knowing the difference between a worthy challenge and a waste of time.

momiji

Most of all, a turn towards simplicity means a turn towards each other, and towards what really matters in life–our well-being, our friends and family, our passions and interests, and our sense of wonder, inspiration, creativity and drive.

And yesterday it meant epic shopping: new wardrobes for new jobs, plus bags of books to feed our hungry minds. It meant a day trip to Tokyo, a shopping field trip, with burgers and fries and iced coffee and frequent pauses to observe/avoid the madness, plus a Sunday stroll through the park, and big plans for the future.

*       *       *

It feels good to follow our own good advice.

View from a Sunday

And on a day I went to yoga, no less!

Been walkin an awful lot lately. Seeing ridiculous, wonderful things. Like a chicken, running away down an alley, white tufted bottom bouncing.

and personal? Or detached?

Like the words “S & M Forever!” spray-painted onto the sidewalk, as I am listening to talk of the myth of sex addiction as it relates to BDSM on the Savage Love podcast.

photo shoot

And other strange beauties. I don’t mean to brag, or to presume, but life feels pretty fateful right now. Well, equal parts fate, happenstance, and serendipity.

Things are good, and things are about to change, and change is good. That’s all.

Keeping My Promises

Found my list of Summer Goals, from way back in May, when I had high hopes and thought, as we always do, that I’d make more time somehow.

Six things:

-read more, less TV

-get a land line, no more cell phone

-become a better photographer

-learn to sew

-start new blogs (and then I list them, which I won’t do here)

-go for more walks

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A Summer’s Work

Sometimes you trick the system and wind up on a committee with money designated for nothing more than gardening and community building. So you toil away all summer and then throw a party, knowing full-well that the vast majority of your coworkers do not give a single shit, and you could care less, because it is Sunday and you get to hang out in the world’s coolest backyard, eating salsa and drinking beer and savoring the dregs of summer.

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A Fox, A Hen, A Bag of Grain

Some days my life feels like a logic problem. Like the one where a farmer needs to get a fox, a hen and a bag of grain across a river, but he can only take one at a time and can never leave the fox alone with the hen or the hen alone with the grain. Because, you know, the food chain.

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Too Much

~OR~

The Longest Day of My Life

After my champion death race, I went out to breakfast. Had buttered toast, because sometimes that happens. Because I hate being a picky-pants diner and asking too much of my server. Dad ordered me coffee, and though I never drink more than a quarter cup, I sipped the whole thing down, steadily, as it was hot on my red, raw tonsils.

I’ve long wondered what would happen if I drank so much caffeine. I’d thought it would make me jittery, nervous, sweaty.

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Life is Good

~OR~

Lately

I haven’t been sleeping enough. Not even close. I am running on the fumes of excitement, newness, closeness, and friendship.

Which means that I spend a lot, a lot, of time smiling. Blushing, giggling, doubled over with laughter. Riding my bike with the wind rushing past and my head in the clouds.

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History

I remember:

-Giant fake sequoias and a rising sense of panic, an urgent text–“I feel supremely un-okay”–and then reassurance, caring

-A long drive that turned out to be so much more perfect than a short one

-Your hand on my leg

-Almost crashing, over and over, but not really feeling scared

-Drinking bourbon straight from the bottle

-Holding each other, frantically, because this was finally real. It was touchable.

-Crying in the bathroom; missing my friends

-3 hours of sleep

-Watching you drink a mug of coffee, black

-A drive that I never wanted to end

-Waiting for you outside the bathroom

-Your hand on my back

-A long lazy lunch

-“Where does he think I’m from?”

-Stealing kisses in the car

-2 hours behind a budget truck (high centered), and absolutely not caring. Being content, just to be there. Just to be near you.

-Skipping a nap and dinner in favor of tall glasses of whiskey

-Being unable to get up off the couch

-A ridiculous party, never-ending laughs, running home, pretending to be asleep

-Piecing together the night before

-Popcorn for breakfast

-Coming home sweaty after a run to your smiling face

-Changing with the door wide open

-Screaming Turkish music, and meeting new people

-Feeling like I ought to live up to expectations; feeling unable to do so

-Being so, so cold all of the time

-Long walks

-A secret spot

-Saving the end of the story for later

-The Giggles

-A night in with mota, wine, and The Tip of the Iceberg

-Waking up earlier

-Talking for hours in bed, and an internal sigh of relief

-Teaching each other

-A complete meal (bet you anything those pancakes weren’t vegan)

-A walk on the beach

-Watching you watch me watch you smoke

-Hanging out, looking at pictures, smoking, talking

-Meeting my twin!

-SLAYING IT at karaoke

-After being so nervous and anxious that I was about to ask to leave

-Because karaoke is infinitely scarier to me than any other performance

-Because you were drunk and instantly so comfortable with me, while I felt uneasy. And guilty.

-Out of my element

-A failed dance party of two

-Your eyes

-A quick drive to the airport, and goodbye for now

*       *       *

I don’t remember perfection, but I remember everything. The amazing parts, the scary parts, the anxious parts, the hunger, the hangovers. It wasn’t perfect, and I am not perfect. I am real, and so are you, and so is this.

As real as the pain of its absence.

As real as the relief of its return.