Jesse Angelo is my new nephew’s name. He has my cheeks.

Adonis and I, exhausted from driving all over, have arrived in our own home and almost kissed the carpet in thanksgiving. There is NO freaking place like home, your own home.

As I held my 4-hour-old boy in my arms, I started to cry over the beauty of newness. A new life. A person who knows nothing of the world except what arms can do. He knew nothing of wars, disease, brokenness, or pain. Jesse will love and grow and learn for himself what the world has to offer him.

Upon my return home, I checked my email and was shocked to see an email that a childhood friend of mine had suddenly died. Jeff Bird, who I grew up with, passed away unexpectedly in his home. He had family, a promising career in cancer research, and a smile that would knock your hat off.

Jeff sat in front of me in the 6th grade and he was one of my closest friends in grade school. He always picked me first in games and gym class and many teased us that we should “go together.” I would have, Jeff was awesome, but I remember thinking that we had so much fun together that I didn’t want to wreck it, make it awkward, and who needs to date or go together when you already get along so well. His sense of humor got me in trouble with Mrs. Daube, in whose class we loved to relentlessly gabber and laugh.

I’ll never forget when he signed my yearbook in the 8th grade. As we stood in the rain, he called me “unbelievable.” He wondered how I could be “so nice” to everyone. I remember thinking it was never hard to love or be nice to him. I made a remark and then laughed at his umbrella. He looked up at the sky and wrote something in my yearbook about the rain. That was my last memory of Jeff. I never forgot him.

Jeff, buddy, I’ll never forget you or the time I told you to roll down your pants, our jokes about Joe-Boo, and quotes from Major League. Thanks for telling me about your heart. Thanks for making me laugh so damn hard. Thanks for our time in the rain.
http://www.legacy.com/cantonrep/Obituaries.asp?Page=Lifestory&PersonId=20454011

We’re in mid-holiday. Christmas has passed, but the new year is still to come.

I love the end of the year. I love the TV reviews that give the best and worst from 2006 and all the hype that inevitably proves anti-climactic come 12/31 at 11:59am. My heart always skips a beat, I thank God for everything and I hope to high heavens the new year will be even better.

It always is.

Every year since I was 8, I write my own personal review of the year. That will likely be coming in a few days. Since my last post, I have spent roughly 13 hours in the car traveling around Ohio for family. I have gained about six holidays pounds and plan on ordering my favorite pizza in about 8 hours to celebrate my new nephew’s birth. Life is grand.

My applications are justaboutdone.

I’ve missed writing, working out, healthy salads, my apartment, and watching my own beat-up/no cable television. In other words, my life. But that’s what the holidays are about – family and big asses.

Since I am lame and refuse to motivate myself to finish my God-forsaken writing sample for my doc apps, I have not yet bought one Christmas present, wrapped anything, or sent one holiday greeting card. To make myself feel better, I wore a Santa hat for my morning commute and even pumped my car full of gas with it on.

I don’t feel better yet. Here’s what you can do to help:

leave me a comment and tell me what you’re looking forward to most on Monday or whenever your holiday reaches its peak.

I’m exceedingly tired today and have a lot of work to do.

I will use this brief entry as an opportunity for that shocking sentence to settle in.

A freaking awesome cuisinart for making pesto
iPod
iTunes gift card
Tripod for my rocking new camera
A farberware skillet
Canvas
Candles
Strength training gloves
A really good set of paint brushes
A really good set of make-up brushes
Your frequent flyer miles
A new cell phone
DVDs:
Any season of Grey’s Anatomy
Sleeping with the Enemy
Grosse Point Blank
Rocky Series, or just Rocky IV
CDs:
Kissing Jessica Stein soundtrack
ROCKY IV soundtrack
Any INDIGO GIRLS album or anthology
Bianca Ryan (she’s seriously amazing)
Anything from Jonie Mitchell
Design of a Decade JANET JACKSON
Books:
This Bridge Called My Back
More stuff from bell hooks
Anything from Natalie Goldberg
Modern poetry by women of color
A Dummies Guide to Adobe InDesign/Photoshop (if this exists)

WHAT I DO NOT NEED or even remotely DESIRE:
frames
plaques
purses
coffee table art books
small books that are about nothing
water bottles
fleece pullovers
stationary
chocolate, unless its Ferrero Rochere
a subscription to BITCH
gloves
scarves
clothes
rosaries
office supplies
calendars
Anything by Ann Gedes
Books by Betty Freidan or Gloria Steinam
Another copy of Women Who Run with Wolves
Any movie with either Steven Seagal or Jean-Claude van Damme
A giftcard to Applebees, unless it’s redeemable somewhere else

In a small window-lit corner,
a caffeinated, warm soul &
warm-skinned
woman –
giddy but quiet –
watches the shadowed
sparrows
filling the stark empty
tree
outside.
Towered by piles of books,
she reads.
Galloping ideas and
unspoken thoughts
tumble out
and the Wisdom imparted
from her novels sits
in an armless, chair across.
Animated
Conscious
and Lovely,
She speaks:
justice
oppression
punishment
systems
suffering, time
hope
history, war.
She pass on crucial words –
Wonders that know no climax,
a mountain with no foreseeable
snowy peak –
and for a few moments
the two sit
exchange smiles,
Wisdom nods.
And the warm-skinned woman
brimming with knowledge,
keeping the world’s secrets
to Truth,
looks out,
the dark sparrows are still,
the wintry naked tree,
full.

Apparently, this is a household phrase to discuss women in their time of menstruation. Am I on exile island? How have I not heard of this?

This has absolutely no relation to anything, but HEY it’s my 100th entry as a blogger, and I can do anything I want, especially with my camera, Baby.
Baby is performing quite well to say the least. She is sharp to boot and loves precision. The color is out of this world. Proof is coming. I’ll post soon.

Some updates and stories from the front lines of my personal life:

• my sister in law who is so pregnant I wonder if a garden of watermelons are springing inside of her, is 3cm dilated and 50% effaced. That means, as my sister would say, “Keep your cell on, she’s gonna blow any second.”

• my doctoral applications are still so close but so far away from being done. With Baby in the apartment, it’s hard to concentrate. With a REAL baby on the way, it’s hard to concentrate.

• Adonis is being super shady and secretive about Christmas presents. That makes me really horny. Another distraction.

• Yesterday, Jeremiah, a personal trainer at my gym is consistently asking me to sign up for more strength training sessions. What a snow job he gives me. “Yo, wasssupp, girrrrrrl. Check this out, you gotta, like, know that only 2 sessions a month aren’t gonna get you anywhere. Let’s just get your name on this line and we’ll get you some serious results. I know you want this.” Remember, I have said NO 2 times already. So, this qualifies under the “Non-Sexual Assault-like Behavior Where One Won’t Take No For An Answer” category. (I seriously do have a personality for dealing with these kinds of people and that is the actual label for that file.) I am proud of myself for what I did. I leaned across the counter and took in his tanned skin, moussed spike hair and said pointedly, “I feel the need to be honest with you. I think you’re really nice, but my answer is no. Like, forever. I don’t want this. So, can you please stop asking me about this because I’ve said this to you before and you keep asking. My answer now and forever will be NO.” His eavesdropping buddy guffawed. I smiled.

HAPPY 100 ENTRIES TO ME AND MY ECDYSIS!

My administrative assistant has a pile of Purpose Cards on her bookshelf. You choose one and it helps give you some positive direction and thought for the day. This was mine:

My camera is better than yours.

That’s all there is to it. I have no idea what you own, what brand, what lens, or how awesome you think it is. Mine is better.

I know this because I assembled mine last night and nearly bowed before it once I glimpsed its power. It is that good. I was taking pictures of everything: stockings on the mantel, a sleeping Adonis, and even birds – despite the fact that I have a deeply running river of fear for birds in my bones.

Ahhh, creativity in my hands. It is indeed a gift. This is my fourth camera in 2 years. I tried to find a name that conveys joy, preciousness, and intimacy. Also, the name must communicate my insane over-protection.

I have named it Baby.

Part of doctoral applications make me crazy. The other part of me is sent to an even deeper state of discernment where I confront things of which I am afraid.

A fear I have about joining/pursuing the academy as a profession is the possibility of losing touch with art, creativity, and a sense of my humanity. That sounds funny, like I’m about to run for congress, but it’s true.

There is a fear I have about striving for such intense scholarship, that my periphery may become narrow and I may, over time, forget that art/creativity/spirit is the center of all life. For me, that is writing, photography, and women.

I do not know where I am being led. But I am getting warmer. I was just perusing this website and while the photography itself is not the greatest, the themes are stunning.

I just got a call that my camera lens is ready for pick-up. 12 weeks of waiting. Get ready for some crazy ass pictures on my bloggy. I’m going to pick it up in 2 minutes. My dreams are waiting.