leftovers

You may have cold turkey in your fridge, but I have cold turkey in my lungs. Today is my official two-weeks-as-a-smoke-free-nonsupporter-of-big-tobacco-companies birthday.
Hooray for cold turkey. Not surprisingly, I am also officially the heaviest I have ever been in my life. Let's just hope I don't die of heart disease or obesity, because otherwise I'll be really mad about how pink and cuddly my lungs are. Ha ha. But do not fret: My fridge is empty again and I don't get my first paycheck until friday. Maybe I will learn how many bowls of cocoa pebbles can I stand for three days.

Melatonin poisoning

So three days ago I decided to permanently stop filling my delicate lungs with carcinogens and carbon monoxide. Not smoking is a lot of hard work. For my roommates. They listen to me whine. They buy me coca-cola, make me coffee, supervise my trips to the gas station and grocery store, hug me every hour and constantly tell me how proud they are. All this helps me to not deliberately poison my own body. They say the smell alone is worth it.
I'm still plagued with bad dreams. About Camel lights. About golden nails with spiritual powers and bicycle accidents that molest, and secret Polish weddings in the Alps. About lesbians hiding from green dragons and an ancient carcophagus in the spare bedrood, and the smalltown diner in cahoots with the morgue and nobody seeming to mind. And that was just last night.

And who are we when we are sleeping? I mean, I don't feel like I am me when I am unconscious. Someone, or something, else takes over. Like a late shift at McDonalds. Who decides that I can fall asleep just as easily with the lights on? What determines which page of my bedtime book will be the last one for tonight? Why was there a carcophagus in the spare bedroom? Where is the capital of South Dakota? These are all mysteries of the human mind that have plagued me for the last 5 minutes. I think i need a Coke.

break

They are breaking up concrete next door. They= the halfmanhalfmachine concrete breaker-uppers. I had a dream about a breaker-upper last night. And I was the concrete because I had broken the handle on his favorite laundry basket.
They have scared the cats away... the noise and the dust is apparently no competition for the cats' hungry bellies. They have silenced the neighbor's chicken coop. No clucking to infect me with a silent smile. No smiles.
The concrete dust mixes with barbeque aromas. I am hungry. But I balanced my checkbook and took a step in delf discipline: Nor more groceries, caffeine, or cigarettes until I get a paycheck. I hope I can make it. I just smoked my last. Hopefully forever. I was lost in Pasadena two nights ago and a halfmanhalfbicycle asked me to buy a hungry little girl some dinner. I didn't tell him I had no cash no job no groceries. I just said no. Now I am glad.
Tomorrow is my first day of new job. I have acne breakout like I am in high school. But I'm cuter than high school Juliana. And my God is my.... ... my only comfort. He is enough.

I worship a God with ears!!!

when i slogged through a bog in Newport last month, slithering through smelly slime to escape the suction of the quicksand, it enriched my experience of Psalm 40. Mirey clay, indeed!

stolen from King David:
i waited patiently for the Lord. and He inclined to me! and heard my cry.
he also brought me up out of a horrible pit, out of the mirey clay. (true, true)
and set my feet upon a rock. and established my steps. (ah, yes)
He has put a new song in my mouth: Praise to our God!
many will see it and fear, and will trust in the Lord. (ok, promise?)
blessed is that man (or woman) who makes the Lord her trust.
who does not respect the proud nor those who turn aside to lies.
many, oh Lord my God, are your wonderful works which you have done.
and your thoughts which are toward us, they are more than can be numbered. (thinkin' about me?)
if i would declare and speak of them, they could not be recounted to you in order.
sacrifice and offering you did not desire. my ears you have opened! (finally, I get it!)
sin offering, burnt offering you did not require.... (ah! so) then I said: Behold, I come!
in the scroll of the Book it is written of me:
I delight to do your will, O my God, and your law is written within my heart.

if this stuff is true (and, My God, it is), how can your life be anything but changed?

can you believe that my two dear parents and my loving grandparents pray for me every day?
every single day.
what a legacy. what an example. what a choice.

moments

... watching a little brown wren picking up chicken feathers to line her nest, as she perches atop the neighbor's chicken coop

... trying to approach the "ashamed" dog, the constipated stray who wanders through our neighborhood from time to time

... two (male) seminary students who regularly sunbathe in the front yard across the street, visible through the picture window in our living room

... dressing up as Spaghetti & Meatballs for a halloween party at which I realize I am in danger of developing alcoholism

... having an improv "dance party" to Mozart's "The Magic Flute" with the celloist room-mate and getting the best workout I've had since I tried starting a garden in the back yard

... slogging through an estuary on my hands and knees, gloriously battling the quicksand, and riding home in the car with all of my slime-covered clothes in a plastic bag (rather than on me)

... attending church with my bongo, sitting in the back and beating my palms in worship in a congregation where this feels totally natural