they pay to kiss your feet

since there's no one else around, we let our hair grow long and forget all we used to know. then our skin gets thicker from living out in the snow.

Wednesday, February 28, 2007


you apply blush
and powder,
you won’t leave the house
without red lips.
you turn your hair
into a helmet of perfection.
you dress
and undress
and dress again
until your outfit is perfect.
you adorn your neck
with perfume
and beads.
you personify perfection.
but as you enter the world,
you compare
and pick
and decide you’re too fat
and too blonde
and ugly.
in need of a new pair of shoes.
and so, it starts again -
the rebuilding of something
that doesn't matter anyway.
because, if you don’t let people past your plastic exterior,
you'll never have to deal
with your heart.
image credit: industrial dolls by c. durocher

Monday, February 26, 2007

confessions of a cheater.

I cheated on my gym yesterday. I cheated with a brighter, more up-to-date gym. One with longer hours and more treadmills and color-coded weight machines and cleaner locker rooms. One with louder music and flirty associate managers. And I’m not sure how I feel about it.

I wasn’t the only one cheating. I thought I would be. I mean, how many other people would look for something better? But there he stood — a traitor on the elliptical machine — all sweaty and tired and out of place. As our eyes met, shame overtook us, and our indignity fled to our cheeks, which flushed with guilt. What would our older, more family-friendly gym think if it saw us like this? Would it think we wanted something newer? Maybe it would begin to analyze the number of treadmills it offers, and how its floors aren’t always the cleanest. It might realize that its hours don’t fit into every schedule and that it should be sharper and sexier and slicker and that maybe, it should feel more like a mall. More like a franchise. It probably would hate itself for its inadequacy. And God forbid it would start to buy into the Wal-mart philosophy of life. It would probably want to kill itself and its independence. It may see no future in its self-proprietary ways, in its one spin class, in the additional cost of classes, in making members commit for a year at a time. After all, a year is like a lifetime in a noncommittal world.

The slicker gym understands the human psyche. It doesn’t have a contract or a line in which to wait to get on a treadmill. It doesn’t have a 30-minute time limit on cardio equipment because there is more than enough. But it also doesn’t have an 80-year-old man who walks around the track, lugging his oxygen tank behind him — breathing each breath with gusto. It doesn’t have the Downs Syndrome kids that work out because it’s fun, not because they want to be thinner and fitter and more productive. It doesn’t have the older woman at the front desk who asks me every day how my foot is and talks to me about eating organic and racing and how she thinks I should go on a cross-country bike tour because, after all, I’m a writer and can do that from anywhere.

The sexier gym just doesn’t feel like home.

Friday, February 23, 2007


if it's true that i am so numb, why, then, does it hurt to breathe?

Thursday, February 22, 2007

are they smart enough to get it?

okay, maybe 'smart' isn't the best choice of words. but, i've often wondered how many Grey's Anatomy viewers realize the title of the drama is playing on the title of a semi well-known, classic publication "Gray's Anatomy of the Human Body" by Henry Gray.

Despite the connection few might make, I'm still tuning in tonight to find out how the 'tragic conclusion' happens, who is involved and if (gasp) meredith grey dies. they wouldn't kill off the protagonist, would they?
some say they would, if she then narrates the story in other-world form (read:as a ghost.)

alright, this post killed some brain cells.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007


of nothing
and everything
litter the yard,
and the streets
are running
with old snow
and dirt and the last
of autumn.
and it’s hard not to drag the soupy earth
as I run
miles and hills
and blocks
until my legs are covered
in brown earth juice
and my shoes are squishy
full of melted snow —
the stuff of pure white nights
and illuminated darkness.
of magic
and mystery
and discovery,
now tainted

Tuesday, February 20, 2007


and then
it all starts over
and you can't remember
the way it ended
or why
your stomach
is in knots -
a fist of knots
punching you
harder and harder until
the bright eye's song just won't stop
playing in your head
and you realize
that maybe listening to it on repeat
and over
wasn't the smartest idea.

danger lurks everywhere.

have you ever sneezed while driving?

i mean, isn't it impossible to sneeze with your eyes open? so, sneezing while driving means driving with one's eyes closed. while this is never a good idea, it's probably an even worse idea when coupled with snot flying and nose covering, which also means hands leave the steering wheel.

this could be even more dangerous than driving while on the cell phone.
it's probably not more dangerous than the woman in front of me today on the way to work, though. i thought she was 4 feet tall the whole time because she was literally bent over looking for stuff on the floor of her car - while on the highway ....during RUSH HOUR.

anyway. i think she should be banned from driving. and also, maybe people with colds or allergies shouldn't drive either.

....i haven't even begun to comprehend the danger that comes with a sneezing attack.

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Sunday, February 18, 2007

what i did this weekend.

not much other than rake it in at the omnis with my creative team from work. can you say 'best in show.' that's right. we rocked it.

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Friday, February 16, 2007

can someone please tell me.....

what in the heck it means if the dress code for an event is 'creative mardi gras' or 'cocktail.' i mean, seriously. i've deduced that i can either wear a halter, black cocktail dress OR jeans, a T-shirt and some beads. whomever thought this up left a lot of wiggle room. i think i'll go with a dress over a long-sleeved T-shirt and leggings paired with a black, peep-toe heel. yes?

i'd also like to know why it is butt cold in kansas (read: 3 degrees this morning,) but at the top of the mountains of keystone it was a balmy 30 degrees.

i hate coming home to inches and inches of snow.

i love coming home to gus, though.
oh, and i like my bed and my pillows and my house. and whole foods. and today, i liked going back to work. i can't say i've ever liked going back to work before. yay for my way-cool company.

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Tuesday, February 13, 2007

so, um....skiing

went skiing. and, it rocked. although, i didn't rock as hard as i remembered being able to rock. in fact, i kind of sucked at first. i swore up and down that i didn't wedge. i was done with the snowplow, i thought. i guess i was wrong. and getting up on my edges wasn't easy especially after i took a hard, hard fall the first day, leaving my neck sore everywhere and my bottom bruised. oh, and then there were my boots, which were too tight. and so now, i have blisters in the shape of texas and ohio on my shin. it hurts. it's ugly. but colorado was beautiful. snowy. white. sunny. relaxing. bliss.

and the company wasn't bad either.

Thursday, February 08, 2007

black smoke, rise up!

am i the only blogger in this city who has not mentioned the chemical plant explosion? i think i may be, which is why i'm mentioning it now. first, let's talk about how perfectly named the company was. ready for this? it was called "chem central." yea. so, this is what we heard from our facility management people at work as we watched the smoke rise and rise from a mere five-ish miles away. "the plant is called chem central and that's where the fire is. at this point, we don't know if the fumes are toxic."

at that point, i went home.

and today, all is well.

peace out.

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

the way.

you wake
and you think things sound different
than yesterday
or the day before that
or last week
and you wonder what happened
and why if you vision is clearer,
your head is so foggy.
you don’t recognize your room
or the way your smile looks
in the mirror.
you don’t remember when your frown lines
became so visible
or when that gray hair appeared.
you think about your youth
and how it was fleeting.
and how now,
you wait
for something that you haven’t yet discovered.
you wait.
and wait.
in purgatory's holding tank,
but nothing ever comes.
aware of your faults,
your nakedness is startling
so you dress -
you comb your hair,
wrap your body in wool
and leave your fortress
to face the cold and cutting winds.
you get in your car
to drive the same street
in the same neighborhood
in the same town
and you wonder why, suddenly, you can’t seem to remember the way.

Sunday, February 04, 2007


this was a weekend of milestones. first, gus learned to enjoy his sweater in the cold, cold midwest. (don't worry, he only had to wear it on walks, and no, it was not my idea.)

and second, super rob helped us organize/clean/throw away half of the contents of our garage (realize, we don't have a basement for storage), and for the first time EVER, we can fit a car in it.

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Friday, February 02, 2007

i think i'm in love

these lovely things arrived at my desk last friday. i typically borrow ski goggles, but this year, i gave in and purchased my own pair. the best part about these beauties is that they are made for a woman's face. so, they're smaller. and they wrap just slightly around smaller bone structer to allow for brilliant peripheral vision. i may have driven part of the way home last friday evening with these on.

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