moving away from the screen

 via

this morning my neck aches after staying up until eleven working on online training. a physical reminder that our bodies aren't meant for sitting still for very long, much less for sitting cross-legged in a dimly lit living room staring into a glowing screen mere inches away while the dog is rolled up beside you and your husband flips through the channels.

when nanno passed away, the one thing i told myself was this: in my effort to be more like him (an overachieving and overambitious attempt), i will do more. interact with this pretty world more. lie on more hills. take more long walks. stretch more in the mornings.

nanno grew up without a computer, or television for that matter. one time, his mama made him ride his bike all the way across town to deliver papers that would let his family leave sicily and return to america. weren't you tired? my mom asked. oh no, he responded. i was happy and excited to do it.

i want that motivation. one thing's for sure-i won't find it in front of a screen. i will search for it deep in the recesses of my favorite coffee shop, in that corner booth that's always empty at just the right time during my lunch break. i will search in the morning, when the rain has lifted and a cloud hangs over the garden like cotton candy. i'll search in the evening, when the field out back is sage green and glowing. or maybe in late afternoon, when every car that passes is filled with someone living out their story.

i'll search, and in the searching, i'll move. my joints will pop with the surprise of a new action. i'll be sore and it will be hard to get up some mornings. but i've got to do it. for my health, my sanity, and for nanno. for the uncanny belief that there's a world to be devoured, and it starts by looking up from the screen.

waiting to exhale (not the whitney movie)

i actually felt guilty yesterday for sneaking into the company kitchen for a cup of coffee.

with deadlines piling up and the stack of paper and bills on my desk growing with each passing second, time seemed too precious, too fleeting, to waste waiting in front of the keurig machine, listening for the water to gurgle then pour, the steam rising then disappearing into the arctic, conditioned air.

there hasn't been a night in the past two weeks that i have sunk into bed before eleven. that i haven't hushed pablo when he whined to play ball, as i crunched over my little red desk and pecked away at the keyboard. life has been so hurried, so rushed, so fluid that stopping to take a time out has seemed too luxurious. (on an unrelated note, i'm getting "winter hair"--dry, crunchy lifeless locks. this has been the cause of a bit of my stress as well.)

but this morning is hazy and overcast and drizzly and, i declare, it almost feels like winter, with its gorgeous gloom. and work has, for the sweet split-second moment, given me a breath. a deep, gutteral sigh. a chance to slip away during lunch and sink into an overstuffed chair at the coffee shop downtown. and for a little bit, just a little bit, read a book i want to read instead of a textbook. apply my lipstick slowly and let the foam stay on my lips for a little while. daydream into the gray noon.

because life is furiously fast, but those special moments are golden and delicious and every good thing wrapped into one. and its those reprieves that keep me chugging along, at least until the first good rain or snowfall comes and everyone can finally exhale.

the picture above was taken atop the astoria column in astoria, oregon. one place i took a crazy deep, rib bursting breath last october.

a cheese-fest at midnight

i went to bed last night at 2:00.

i wish i could tell you i was up reading a great novel. studying. working on my Bible study that's two days behind.

but no.

last night was the season finale of bachelor pad.

and though we didn't get fully home and showered and settled until 11:00, we had to watch.

and it's cheesy. oh boy is it awfully cheesy. and a bit staged. and dramatic to no end.

but for a girl who spends her life behind a desk, with a clear head on her shoulders and always contemplating her next rational, logical move, and a boy who spends his days in a blue collar with calloused hands, it's just the mindless escape we need.

so our plans for a morning walk were scrapped, and we spent the dawn hours pressing snooze. but there's a coffee shop near work and the promise of an early bedtime tonight, so all is well. all is well indeed.

and as the above photo illustrates, i'm clearly a hollywood groupie. and though i wouldn't exactly call the contestants stars, for my weary, sleepy self they certainly sufficed.