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.

just fine

 

it's funny how one thing can undo me.

how coffee loses its taste and the sunrise loses its brilliance when clouded.

i've got a presentation today. a short, no-longer-than-three-minutes-please little impromptu speech.

and i've practiced. for robert. for pablo (who provided lots of constructive criticism), and for my co-workers.and i drove to work in the dark this morning, praying for an elusive confidence the whole time.

i was born nervous, to a nervous father. i'm reminded every time i skirt the telephone or think up another word to replace the one not quite out of my mouth.

so i will drive. to the big city two hours away. with my sweet sister in tow and hope against all odds that the fluency fairy will visit at approximately 6:15 p.m.

prayers, happy thoughts, well wishes, good vibes, please?

thank you.

via

pablo says relax, and a little video

an executive walked into my office yesterday and, upon noticing my bulletin board, remarked "practicing with the puppy, i see." and i know he meant for children. and yes, in a way that's what robert and i are doing. seeing if we can handle this little driveway before we get on the highway. but that's not all. i'm practicing so much more with pablo. like how to relax. how to drive with the windows down and not worry about my hair. how to taste the sweet breeze of summer's anticipation. and dive headfirst into the chaos. because he doesn't know that his time here is limited. for him, life is an endless array of mornings playing in the dew, afternoons with robert's grandma, snoozing in the soft flesh of her powder fresh arms. and nights curled up in a king sized bed.

but i know better. i know that life is short. and that knowledge, sad as it might be, sets me apart. and allows me to cherish more deeply. and life more freely. there are times when pablo actually stops and smells the flowers outside. i swear, that dog is wise beyond his 56 dog years.

we spent an entire day lounging last weekend. we ate breakfast for supper and didn't get out of our pjs or leave the house. and this video captures how we spent our time. have a beautiful weekend, friends, and a very happy easter to you and your family.