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thoughts and feels and thoughts and feels
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September 2009
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thoughts and feels and thoughts and feels [userpic]
It's been real, ...

It was band day. Macon played Copland and cleaned house (w00t to them). I got through the whole thing with no khakis and greens but severe neck chafing. Good shows & good times were had by all. Snaps to Dixon, in their first field season, and really everyone - I didn't see any shows that were really painful like some last year.

Then we went to Cracked Crab. I rode with Christie (?) and Josh Y., who I met at MMEA like FRESHMAN YEAR and who it took me a long time to recognize. I sat with Megnn and Brad and Cheryl and Nathaniel, and it was really awesome - a long and hilarious conversation followed by food comedy c/o Megnn. My food took forever and then longer, so I ended up getting a free meal. Which was supernice.

At this point in time I would like to give an overt and noisy DEO GRATIAS for this shower of fiduciary blessings I have mysteriously received of late. I am extremely thankful (and probably considerably less stressed than I would be otherwise). Perhaps the moral of this story is that I need to be more trusting...

Anyway - and I had a salad and pasta with andouille sausage and mashers and corn. Shots were partaken of by all (perhaps even more all than was necessary...) People mingled and visited the bar. I sat and put my feet up (having been at the restauraunt for nigh on 3 hours by then) and drank my huge-o mug of coffee (with real cream) and N. and I sat around and discussed things of the most significant import - like how awesome early fall and late spring are, because you have a full day, then sit down and have a good meal, nice and leisurely, just as the sun is setting. When you're done you go outside and it's cold, and when you get home you watch TV for maybe half an hour and then crawl into your warm & cozy bed. And life is good.

Life *is* good.

I've been saying that more often than usual lately. I love these people with laughs and sparks and quiet smiles, with vibrant colors and the mist on a ripening field after the heat of summer is through. I love them with rocks and leaves and photographs and tunes, the dew on the grass and the pages of old books, quiet words and hair ties and memories and promises.

My poetry has been in words, but perhaps the best poetry is written on the walls of my heart.

Truly I have been richly blessed.

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