Fall Challenges: A Week of Shots- Day Three
Day Three
Dinner at home with Joel
this recipe
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date night
She keeps taking hits.
Her beauty fleets and shies.
Her jeans don't fit, her face scarred.
She weeps openly and freely, but they both know
[by jove, they have both learned
that as much as they both want to let him swoop in
and romance her back to a thin, young place]
That she must do the work.
She started with him in tandem, driving.
They progressed to one hand holding the seat, training wheels trepidatiously removed.
But still, he was there,
Ready in an instant to shatter the facade of her independence,
If she should need it.
She's now scared;
It's time to take a spin around the cul-de-sac
And she knows he'll let go.
And she knows that the faster and more steady she becomes,
the less she'll notice.
She is guilty of relying lazily on his perfect balance,
his stalwart legs.
Out of love and hate,
with tears washing her face
she man ups.
Does it solo.
Tries not to look back.
Tries like hell to make him proud.
One night, she tells him over a bottle of wine how she's loosing ground.
And needs him to put the safety back on.
He whispered in her ear as they fall asleep,
"How did I ever find you?"
And the words, like caresses and deep breaths,
Wash her cells, her sad blood, anew.
And even if she had to swallow the fierce pain of dependence,
decides that tonight, just one night
she can borrow his vision again.
She slumbers to visions of ribbons flying free on the handlebars and eyes closed in belief and bliss.
Without the good, good love from another human, we cannot love ourselves.
It's not your fault.
Goodnight, my love.
Goodnight, my someone. Goodnight, my love.
an evening of one's own
There are weeks when I just don't have much to say ignoring all the noise in my head is the only way to relax. This isn't my usual modus operandi; instead, I usually engage that voice by journaling and reading and much contemplative quiet time (man, I lead a really nice life). However, my biggest struggle this week has been not coming down too hard on myself for spending my evenings wrapped up in the boob-tube.
It's that continued internal struggle:
What I want to do versus what I think I SHOULD do.
I admit.
The should usually loses.
So when I was presented with a night all to myself, I had many ambitious lists - organize my desk, walk around the lake, call my girlfriend. I like having ideas and plans for those days when what I want to do eludes me. However, I have had to learn to remain flexible with these lists - knowing that my mood, as much as it gets discredited in modern society for its illogical influence on our daily lives, is every bit a part of my soul and psyche as my will and desires are.
SO I did whatever I wanted.
It's funny - it wasn't much different from other days this week, but the difference was a nuanced self-judgement of my activities. Instead of being ashamed that I sat in front of the TV, I decided to just enjoy it. What's the point of relaxing if you spend the entire time in angst that you should be doing something else? Just DO SOMETHING ELSE. I'm really working on this kind of living-in-the-moment.
My mantra:
Brining intentional awareness to each activity will give it life. Do nothing out of blind habit or rigid self-definition. With the precious little amount of leisure time the universe grants, do what you want, when you want.
This isn't a recipe for goal-attainment, obviously. Many of you need more more defined parameters to motivate yourself towards activities you want for yourself, but in Candace-land, self-discipline is a dirty, dirty word. Instead, I believe using my desires is a better way to get to my goals. I WANT to be healthy - I WANT to move, to drink less, to write more. Great. But I also WANT macaroni and cheese for every meal, want to drink a bottle a wine, and want to be mindlessly entertained for hours and hours. Granted, I will probably never be in great shape or arrive at any grandiose achievements, but I am okay with that.
Instead, my goal is to love my life.
To never, ever suffer through the shoulds.
All of this to say, I had an evening alone, and this is what I made of it:
I came home and put on music right away.
Hall and Oats radio, thank you very much.
(Later, this became tedious, so I switched it to "Tina Turner" radio - the best artist seed ever! I then danced foolishly all around my kitchen.)
Read a lovely postcard while unpacking the groceries.
Poured a glass of Primativo while prepping the veggies for a greek salad.
Wandered to the window and people watched for a while.
(Look at that sately beast!)
Gazed idly at the clouds.
Got back to making dinner.
Ran out back to cut some fresh parsley for my pasta.
INNNHHHAAALLLE.
A happy coloring.
Dinner.
Bliss.
Read a lovely postcard while unpacking the groceries.
Poured a glass of Primativo while prepping the veggies for a greek salad.
Wandered to the window and people watched for a while.
(Look at that sately beast!)
Gazed idly at the clouds.
Got back to making dinner.
Ran out back to cut some fresh parsley for my pasta.
INNNHHHAAALLLE.
A happy coloring.
Dinner.
Bliss.
Happy Friday, chickadeeeee, dee, dee.
To claim.
Recipe for turning a soulless shelter into a meaningful habitat (aka: how I spent the day recovering my home):
~Walk to mailbox and realize that I've been shut indoors for days, not taking advantage of a place that needs no unpacking, no decisions.
My forest.
| From Claiming the space |
MY YARD.
It needs nothing of me.
I walked the property with my camera (my close eye)
and acquainted myself with the
and acquainted myself with the
trees
rocks
spider webs
chipmunks
| From Claiming the space |
horrible lawn decor
(that makes me laugh so much I feel I cannot remove it)
| From Claiming the space |
~ Sit and watch cat.
Octavia's outside debut!
Octavia's outside debut!
This cat has never been outdoors on her terms.
Though we've been leaving the door open for her to test it out, until today she had not ventured.
| From Claiming the space |
(She LOVES it here).
~FINALLY get the bookshelves where they belong
and let the books out from their stuffy boxes
| From Claiming the space |
| From Claiming the space |
| From Claiming the space |
| From Claiming the space |
so they can find breath
to tell me where they belong
~Friends helping you unpack and giving you structure on ways to unpack.
| From Claiming the space |
Also, friends who bring you doughnuts and Whole Foods sandwiches for lunch.
Also, friends who eat these sandwiches outside in the sun whilst sipping rosé*.
| From Claiming the space |
Also, friends hanging things, listening to the plants, and making decisions.
| From Claiming the space |
Also, a wee bit of cheeeesy-ness** to finally make me laugh
about this whole crazy thing called
H
O
M
E
*Ever been curious about the difference between White Zinfandel and Rosé? Wikipedia explains it well.
** Though funny in the moment, Kelly stands like this about 80% of the time.
** Though funny in the moment, Kelly stands like this about 80% of the time.
This faded summer...passing by.
Tonight's date night consisted of a rousing game of Nertz...Joel and I decided that whoever arrived at 1 million points will win. This is going to take a lifetime. How romantic...
The last week and a half has been a whirlwind of activity rich with meaning, sadness, hyperactivity, laughter, white wine, not enough sleep, and great food.
Last week, my dear pen-pal and bosom friend, Plume, rolled into Seattle for a week of R&R with Kelly and I. We flitted all about and did Seattle right. We frolicked on the beach in Seattle's first summer rain, we gabbed for hours while emptying bottles of pinot grigio, we sat in awe of the process and pain of art, we all three cried at some point, we spent Plume's money at Ikea, we sang the tunes of musicals and laughed in delight at Mamma Mia; we hiked, we dined like royalty, we chopped veggies and played board games. There was a jamming extravaganza, freshly baked bread, a peach & cherry pie, and hot, tasty pho.
I tell you, after knowing and loving this hummingbird lady for 1.5 years from afar, it was right and good to have her finally in my arms and me in hers.
I tell you, after knowing and loving this hummingbird lady for 1.5 years from afar, it was right and good to have her finally in my arms and me in hers.
After she left, I went home and slept a very long time...and missed her. Soon, my friends...there will be many more pictures to come.
The next day, the saint and I wandered out to Hat Island to celebrate Devon's 27th bday, gorging ourselves on sand, sun, and rest.
| From Devon's 27th Bday Weekend |
| From Devon's 27th Bday Weekend |
| From Devon's 27th Bday Weekend |
We boated over to the island,
our souls bobbing up and down with glee
and Red Stripe.
I was caught off guard,
alarmed even
at the reflection of my solitude in the sea.
It was blinding, and I forgot that I wasn't alone.
These people have a knack of reminding me.
| From Devon's 27th Bday Weekend |
That night, after a veritable feast,
We toasted her...
It tasted so sweet, watching each other love this young lady,
a lady startlingly easy to love.
Though she often cannot see it.
We toasted her courage to be herself
Her determination to be intimate
Her healing hands
Her persistence in loving herself, despite herself.
| From Devon's 27th Bday Weekend |
That night
In the darkness,
Sound tracked only by the steady pulse of wake and Neko,
Matt and Jer agreed that it's been the best summer since
The summer of red wine and David Bowie.
And though it is indeed going quickly,
this faded summer will not pass us by
at least not without
note.
Ms. Case is making sure of it.
| Devon's 27th Bday Weekend |
Did I mention I walked into the ocean in my pjs?
It was a moral imperative, though I don't usually do that sort of thing.
I sneaked away from the group for a bit to catch my much needed breath, and enjoyed the most tasty 2002 Rioja while writing pages and pages. I got to thinking about a lot of things...namely inhibition.
Not because I don't agree, but because it's boring.
It was a moral imperative, though I don't usually do that sort of thing.
I sneaked away from the group for a bit to catch my much needed breath, and enjoyed the most tasty 2002 Rioja while writing pages and pages. I got to thinking about a lot of things...namely inhibition.
Our society values the uninhibited, at least the bohemian society in which I am entrenched does. I suppose there is one thing I am a bit tired of in myself, and that's how I swim in the murky water of self-loathing in wanting to be uninhibited but also knowing that by nature, I am a cautious soul. This can sometimes clash with those who cast off inhibitions easily and throw caution to the wind, and who I find could use a dash of inhibition for the sake of others. In our society, I think the general consensus is to come down on those who are inhibited and assume that suggesting a shot of tequila and social abandon will truly free them. So I pose this question, are those who are uninhibited truly free? And are those who are more cautious truly imprisoned? If your answer to this question is "Candace, we all just need balance," I'll tell you right now that I'll secretly disregard this diplomacy.
Not because I don't agree, but because it's boring.
Happy Monday,
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