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Yes; well, Heather's blogging and I thought I might as well, too. I feel as if there may be a thousand items on my "to-blog" list. Maybe I will take this one day at a time.

Tomorrow we are putting on a Michaelmas play for the Raphael House families. Zak will play the role of St. George. Alexander shall be our dragon. Erin dramatically narrates while Ralitza and Magdalena scream and get eaten. Father Michael is our internally tortured king and I his passive daughter sent to slaughter.

In other news, I was forced to make my 2nd and 3rd graders write lines (standards) instead of decorating crosses today. The reasons included dancing on backpacks, sucker punches to classmates' jawbones, and an earth-shaped pencil sharpener that kept making its rounds through the air.

Their lines read "I am sorry" ten times, and were decorated with complementary color-schemed hearts.

A long time coming

I am not sleeping because I have no need for dreaming.

In one month I'll be (one times two is one) and that's a good thing.

I have grown to appreciate the absurdities: one hundred and ten tiny flowers sprouting from bubble wands; the purposeful folding of a table napkin (is it white or eggshell?); should the hem be one or two inches shorter?; grand entrance and get-away; nail polish color; the height of a centerpiece ...

I don't even remember how write because all I do is build this fast-approaching wedding, piece by glue-gunned piece.

In the fall I might remember I am a writer. I might pick up a notebook and recognize the blankness of the space between the lines. Right now I'm a fiance. And in a month I'll be a wife.


Don't say those words out loud. I might wake up :)

It is my Nail in your Hand

Red eggs in my palm and I squint at them, remembering:
who is this child?

What Man is this that slays
down his life

for his strangers--
who lay sleeping in the brush when we are dancing around His head.

Shalome. Are you yet the Messiah?




Condemn me, red egg. Do not die for me.
Do not descend into that dark place for me. I cannot lift your Cross.

What Justice? What Mercy?
What God? What God?

Who Are You, that carries thorns without promise of roses,
that Redeems without reasurrance of repentance?

( space )

I like it when you remember to smile.

We, put our toes in blue bells. The leaves seep between our bodies.
A bee lands on your nose.

We make a wish when it goes.

You aint nothin but a Hound Dog

Hm.

Planning a wedding is quite the extravaganza.

Elaine told me to keep it simple and I PROMISE I am trying my HARDEST.

But I really want a cappuccino bar, live music, and a Mediterranean vibe.

As the guest list continues to involuntarily expand, not mind you due to the work of my own fingertips, I half-heartedly consider Zak's dad's suggestion of Vegas.

Elvis seems so much more practical at this moment. And when you're saying he's simpler than the vision in my head, you know our lives are getting interesting.



Today, when I went to pick up lunch for work, I got an intense craving for Skittles. Allow me to undo all my bridal bootcamp workouts with a 1lb bag of rainbow colored goodies.

Hello, Cavities, meet my sweet tooth.

Blood is thicker than water

When I say family the word softens in my teeth. It is a round word, a Whole word.

I know a lot of words that are clipped, or broken. Fear is a broken word, and Money sounds like a window that has shattered. Even Faith has its ups and downs.

Words that have no meaning like cup or plate are broken, too. I dropped a cup this morning and it sprinkled across my toes like the dust from which we come.

Family never returns to dust. Family comes from bones, travels in blood, slips into the next generation because the previous one gave it breath.

A sister is a Conspirator. A sister shares your emotions, shivers when you're cold, sips from your cup of coffee and laughs when the froth gets stuck on your nose.

A mother is a Dreamer. A mother knows your brain, gets inside your heart, fills your limbs with the will to move forward, to reach larger, to love deeper.

A father is a Listener. A father's kiss rests eternally on your forehead, hands consistently support your step, eyes forever watching and breathing and encouraging you to learn, to pause and appreciate, to memorize the glory of the lines in the faces of your loved ones.

A cousin is a Learner. A cousin stumbles through your same problems, wades through the same experiences, gives and takes advice when your foreheads are pressed together in the middle of the night waiting for the next big Change, for the next great Adventure.

An aunt is a Helper. An aunt recognizes the fear in your voice and the joy in your eyes with her hands outstretched to lead you between each stepping stone even when your ankles are wobbly and your heart is afraid to be strong.

An uncle is an Example. An uncle shows the way to walk and not trip, the way to laugh contagiously, the way to life a life steeped in prayer, fluent in understanding, drenched in compassion.


---
In 141 days, the list will be longer.
It already feels longer, to me.

Feb 1 - March 1 was surreal.

Well, how's THAT for overdrive?

It's been exactly one month today since it all started and I don't know how to catch you up. Maybe three-word phrases?

- We are Engaged
- Wedding's in July
- Vendors like Brides
- Stopped doing laundry
- and all homework
- TheKnot New Bestfriend
(that one cheated)
- All Dresses Ordered
- Photographer, Musicians - Check
- Afternoon Waterside Reception
-  Can't Remember Poetry

The reason behind this last one is that poetry--well, any writing--requires a time/space set aside for quiet contemplation and complete absorption in a world of make-believe.


Space moves silent
if treetops wave;
triptych waves listen:
trip frostbitten toes.


Dear World-Diary you are my oyster. I have diamonds on my fingers. The future rests on my nose.