:: kaela bear bear bear ::

Everything was fine with the present-opening at first....
... until it just wasn't anymore.  She was past consolation, and I can't even remember why.  But that's fine.  It was her party so, as we all know, she can cry if she wants to, cry if she... anyways.
Party?  We're there.  Birthday crowns?  We're on it.   

In what was a smashing success of a 1st birthday, Kaela-bear is now one year old.  She can't tell you that yet, but she's working on it.  First she'll learn how to say "maahhn-dee!"  It's a matter of priorities. 

:)

I just like white better.

(that was for you, Brian)

:: extraordinary ::

Something extraordinary. She said she's waiting for me to do something extraordinary. And that's not to lay pressure on my cocoon lest my shimmery-wet beginnings get bent. No, she's just waiting by my branch for the someday emergence. Because she is so sure I'm coming out of that cocoon glorious.

And I'm terrified that after all this time I'll turn out to be a moth, whose wings are only almost pretty when they're resting (just the opposite of a butterfly that shines in its flight and folds it all up for repose). I always say -- yes, I'm teal and purple and you won't be able to imagine how fluorescent my wingspan is! But inside, when I'm going to sleep, I just wonder quietly to myself: will there ever be a coming out?

Sometimes I say stupid things. Really. Stupid. Things. They just come flying out of my mouth and I want nothing to do with them, want to yank them back into the silence of having never been said, but I can't.

And I haven't learned anything profound about this lately but am just writing because I said two Stupid Things today and can't get them back. By telling you here I have now shared a bit of the burden with you, so thanks for lightening my load. I appreciate it.

:: march and starbucks and life ::

2008. I'm used to the sound of that now and I suppose I should be considering it's been two whole months. March is just the next customer on a very busy day, with the line of months going out the door till 2012. I can see them all waiting, impatiently, to step up to the counter with their order of the usual mundane things. And maybe one or two exceptions like a tall epiphany or one venti conversation that is supposed to change the course of my life.

Looking all of them over with their no surprises and few possibilities I take my apron off: I don't want to serve them anymore.