a very small state.

i visited THIS couple in rhode island. stayed in their guest room. slept with their dog, chips, who they rescued, and who has the most wonderful case of slight PTSD (meaning, that she just likes to be spooned.)

i walked to marshalls, bought too much champagne, celebrated job and good friends. wrote letters. cleaned a bathroom. watched a romantic comedy alone. emailed a lot of people my thoughts on my hatred of said romantic comedy. forgot to remember that i had emailed said people until i had a full email box the following morning. talked systemic oppression. listened to npr for an entire afternoon while washing dishes barefoot. fell in love with rural massachusetts and the life that my friends are building. now THAT is worth celebrating.

amy refuses to send pictures of herself.

i went to boston to see my friend amy.

and her husband.

and harvard.

and to make pilgrimage to one place of higher learning and feminism and movie location.

and to pick apples.

and to photo shoot.

and to almost miss my bus.

and to have car time.

and to enjoy the love and warmth of a friend who knows me.

boston is beautiful, especially the part

where you get really, really lost with

no forms of electronic communication.

that is the best.

a book.

finally reading it. (a few years late.)

thoughts emerging... we'll see, mr. rollins.

"for christians testify to having been caught up in and engulfed by that which utterly transcends them. in short, the experience that gives birth to faith, at its most luminous, is analogous to the experience of an infant feeling the tender kiss and embrace of its mother."

peter rollins, how (not) to speak of god, pg.1