Mom, I lived a lifetime on the Nile

    I once heard someone say, "It is the space between the notes that make the music." It isn't so much about the notes being played, but the space between the notes. I've been thinking about this lately and today it seems that life is the same way--less about the highs and the lows and more about the spaces between them. The spaces that come before the ups and always follow the downs; the quiet spaces between that create music. I'm trying to embrace those between spaces.

Reflective Vest and Hand Wands

Yelp, if you haven't heard, I moved to Minneapolis, Minnesooota. I hopscotched four states north for awhile to intern with the non-profit here. As you can imagine, I'm getting paid more with experience and little monetary means. So in order to pay rent and clothe my body for my first winter, I needed to get a part-time job. After a couple of weeks of job hunting, I got hired on at the airport. Not what you think, more like this. I will be working outside on the ramp marshaling in airplanes, loading cargo, and driving tugs to push the planes back on the runway. Yellow reflective vest in the dead of a Minnesotan winter marshaling in planes with orange signaling wands. Aside from the entertainment value this job provides, the reason I applied for it was because of the flight benefits. I can fly anywhere for free as a standby passenger. Some international flights require a small international fee, but I'll be flying first class. I keep thinking of all of these different places that I've been wanting to go like Prague, Morocco, Papua New Guinea....the list is endless. I plan on going to as many places as I can within this next year. One weekend, I plan on walking into the airport getting on the next available flight out of the country, wherever that might be and just go. Take as many pictures as I can for a couple of hours, eat a meal, then flight home. Granted, we are not getting paid much to work outside in the winter, but seriously, best benefits ever.

When I found out I got the job, I planned on approaching it as a sociological study of what it's like being a woman doing what is traditionally-known as 'man's work'. Mainly, because I'm nerdy like that and seemed fun. Observe, experience, and write about it. Also, it would be a way of tricking my mind into thinking that I had a purpose for being outside marshaling planes in negative 15 degree weather. Some kind of reason to etch into my mind to make the winter seem less harsh and the wind's sting more bearable. Why am I loading someone's 60 pound leopard-printed suitcase into the cargo bin of a CRJ-900 in the dead of winter with a reflective wands in my hands? Oh yeah, I remember, because the sociological world needs me to. Mostly psychological, but I have a feeling this will make for some good stories, so I plan to write about it. Although, there is a small hiccup in my study. My training class is not exactly what I expected. There's a pretty even split between men and women. My focus may have to shift a bit, maybe a look into the world of traveling ramp agents or something. I still plan to write about my experience, but it might be through a slightly different lens. Although, my class is an interesting one. We have quite an array of people present with ages ranging from a few 20 somethings to a woman in her mid-60s. A lot of middle aged people, some retirees, a few college kids, a couple of internationals --- and we're all there for one reason: free flights. We want to see the world and have someone else pay for it. Most people there have other jobs and will just be working 10-15 hours a week at the airport for the flight benefits. After a week of classroom learning about belt loader operational procedures, proper hand signaling, and aircraft safety precautions, I'm feeling ready for on-the-job training next week. Oh, boy. Sometimes I just have to laugh at myself. When I applied for the job, I didn't even know what exactly I was applying for. I just saw the flight benefits and I was in. This should be interesting.

Those are not flaws. They make you only more you.

I have a fascination with birthmarks. There is something about them that is absolutely beautiful to me. I'm at a loss to pinpoint what exactly is so intriguing about them. It may be because it's like a plot twist of the body or an unexpected surprise. It may be because they remind me just how much of a patchwork quilt we all are. Or it may be because in a subtle way they challenge airbrushed ideals. Not in a hostile way, but rather in a standing-at-a-distance-smiling-and-waving kind of way. I must admit, my feelings have not always been this way toward my well-known friend, melatonin. As a child, bold brown freckles covered my entire face. They demanded (unwanted) attention and were far bolder than the timid girl that stood behind them. I remember not being overly fond of them, except when I was at my cousin's grandmother's house (my cousin's grandmother on her dad's side. But wouldn't that be funny if I referred to my own grandmother that way? Moving on). She liked me a whole lot and held my freckles in high esteem. She would compliment me on them (as if I had some hand in it) every time I went to her house. Her own girlhood freckles had since faded into aging spots, but somehow that created some kind of continuity between us. For her sake, I was glad I was freckled. There, at her house, I was overly fond of them. Maybe that's why I like birthmarks now, because Yolande thought freckles were special.


I have a two-freckled constellation that sits on the crater of my hip, a brown butterfly that rests on my shoulder and a coffee-stained ankle bone.

Little Sister Kind of Love

The morning I left, I woke her up to hug her good-bye. As she slides down my body back into a deep sleep, she whispers, " Have fun. Be safe. Jesus loves you."

A fourteen-year-old that's never really been fourteen. She is who she is and matures when she wants. She lives outside of age and cannot hear society's screaming voice of expectations. She doesn't know she's supposed to try and fit in. She doesn't know she's 'supposed' to try to be any other way. Part of me thinks it's absolutely bold to one's self so freely. On the other hand, a gift that she doesn't even know she is "being bold" just by being herself. She likes alligators, olives, the Amazon, tree houses and is quite vocal if she thinks someone is making fun of her maternal lineage. She is persistent in a way that only the youngest child can be. And she'll get what she wants out of life.

a small little summer ride

                     This summer I rode my bicycle across the northern half of the country with eight incredible individuals. We were a group of non-cyclists trying to make a difference. We rode for victims of human trafficking, girls forced into prostitution and for Burmese refugees. It was a humbling and renewing experience. These are a few photographs from the trip.

           “We didn’t have much when we started this tour. We had a bike and two legs that could peddle.”

                     “Cycling clothes are a little like baby clothes. Diaper pants and Velcro shoes.”

                                        “You sound like a coyote in a trash compactor.”

  “Are we really sitting in a van, eating lasagna, watching the sunset because there are too many damn mosquitoes…sorry…dang mosquitoes?”

                                                  “America, you have created machines.”

                                    “Twelve hours ago we were taunting a security camera.”

Untitled #002

The words are pushed into me
somewhere in my back
finding their way through the canal of my throat
coming through my teeth in a whisper
I whisper in the shower alone
standing on the tips of toes
as if to go into a demi plie
like learned as a child
but I don't demi plie anymore
I stand there in releve as the hot water creates an illusion of cleansing
whispering to myself as the words fall into the porcelain tub and are washed down the drain.






On a lighter note, I just learned how to create hyperlinks. I know, about 13 years late. But I can't wait to employ this newly discovered ability.