Category: personal

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things I would do if I was Hindu and kept coming back to perfect my life…

Don’t get your panties in a wad…I’m not giving serious consideration to reincarnation nor am I mocking world religions. I was just thinking that there are so many things I want to see and experience that I would need two or three lifetimes in order to fit them all in.

Some of these things are left over from when I was a kid, and some of these things are things that I’ve thought of as an adult. So, I present to you, in no particular order, the things I’d see or do if I fell into a vat of toxic waste and came back as Catwoman (besides getting the attention of my husband in a very special way).

Here goes:

1. Climb Machu Pichu (this from childhood–I think my love of science fiction was born in my fascination with crop circles and the year 2012)

2. See the Grand Canyon

3. Go to the Summer Olympics (I once dreamed of participating, but I’ll settle for shouting USA! in the stands)

4. Jump out of an airplane (ideally, I’d be wearing a working chute)

5. Go to the running of the bulls in Pamplona (I’d settle for the tomato throwing festival)

6. Learn Italian

7. Write a good novel

8. Play the piano (Useless — I’ve worn down some of the best music teachers. I don’t get time signatures. Music isn’t just a foreign language to me, it’s alienspeak.)

9. Go back to Rome and visit for as long as I want

10. Meet the Pope (Alexander would have been interesting, but he’s been dead for hundreds of years —  B16 would be a nice consolation pope)

11. Get a Ph.D., not an Ed.D. (I have snob issues)

12. Go on a mission trip

13. Run a marathon

14. Spend the day at the Smithsonian

15. Visit Cuba

16. Eat shrimp scampi (with an epi pen!)

17. Go surfing

18. Visit the Holy Land

19. Party in Australia with my friend Leonie

20. Drink cafe au lait and have a croissan at the Cafe Georges V on the Champs Elysees (tourist trap? definitely. but very early in the morning, I think I could capture a slice of my youth while backpacking through Europe a million years ago)

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it snows

The view from my front porch tonight was absolutely lovely. The snow, pristine, shiny, wet, and so soft and quiet was a comfort after a difficult day.

I’m fascinated by the snow. It’s nothing new to me – I’ve spent winters in places much colder than here, driven in snow deeper and more dangerous than today’s, but snow is rare enough in these parts to always draw some attention. Today’s little “blizzard” came in, like the fog, on little cat feet.

After a morning and afternoon filled in equal parts mourning, joy, and love, I made my way back home in the midst of quite a snow-shower. We usually only get the little flurries, barely pinpoints of ice that melt as soon as they land on anything, but today was different.

Today we got some real flakes. Big. Fluffy. Substantial.

They fell quickly, stuck surely, and blanketed the city in what seemed like mere moments. Kind of like life. One minute things are looking all regular, and the next, everything changes.

I reflected on this on the way home because, frankly, listening to the radio was too much noise for my broken heart. The incredible thing about snow is its silence. It falls hard and fast, and noiselessly.

That’s the part that amazes me every time. I’m usually drawn to the violent storms, with lots of thunderous claps and sheering rains, and winds that blow hard and noisily.  The ocean, at its most tumultuous is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in nature.

But snow is different.

I know it has the potential for destruction, but in its moderation, in its manifestation today, it was a gift in its simplicity. Gentle, pure, and … quiet. It covered us, not with the pall we were expecting, but like a blanket that a parent might place across a sleeping child.

And still, there was a heaviness that mirrored the heaviness in my heart. The trees bear the weight of the snow nobly and bravely.  I pray we can do the same.

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I meant to complain about bringing old bands out of retirement for some last hurrah lame half-time show, but hell froze over and the Saints won, so that kinda trumped everything

Having offered my morning prayers for Rosary Army (please help!) and for my sister (happy birthday!) and my niece (happy santo!), I found  the silence in the car deafening, so I popped in a Journey CD.

I then proceeded to crank up the volume and sing at the top of my lungs using as my microphone a spent Expo dry erase marker that was rolling around on the floor of the car. I’ve done this before and generated looks from my fellow commuters. I may be weird, but I have fun.

So, anyway, here I am singing my favorite song, which today happens to be “Loving, Touchin, Squeezin”, due to my angst-filled mood fueled by an uncharitable desire for revenge (or at least some measure of “you had it coming”), and I happily rocked the last 30 minutes of my commute.

I’d like to keep Journey where they belong — in my vinyl memories where I am 17.

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