i just hope i have something interesting to say.

autumn found its way to the box canyon today. sun shone brightly on lemon-lime foliage. aspen ablaze on steep mountain grades. brisk air tossed locks of hair and scarf tassels. beckoning winter closer. it's in the air. i can smell it. the thermometer reads twenty-nine degrees. that's Fahrenheit folks. it's cold. but the crispness in the air reminds me i'm alive. it's the autumn color change, the drop in temperatures, the bareness to it all that brings me closer to that place. for me, this is the beginning. a fresh start. a clean slate. and i welcome it with open arms. the skies shroud us in starlit canopy. too big and expansive to cloak or drape. the big dipper and Orion's belt are lost in the depth of the celestial show. a veil of glittering light. i can not make out one single constellation. too dazzled to focus on one individual.

i spent my day off running errands and reading. eating homemade carrot & cilantro soup, curled in a blanket at the dinning room table. and in the evening, i found my way to the movie theater. four girls. two bottles of wine. and the time traveler's wife. (i love rachel mcadams. if i could physically resemble any woman on the planet...) that's a recipe for tears. and an answered prayer. strong women who get me. who understand where i have been. who can direct me on my journey. open and understanding. compassion and grace at a time when i have felt lost and alone. it is amazing what you get when you just ask. pause for a moment and address the empty aching places in your heart. i asked for pages to read and ears to listen. delivered.

my friend rae keeps lists on her computer. memories.
times that i felt sad:
times that i felt depressed: abandoned: angry: abused:
times that i felt loved: understood:
these are her stones. cairns. markers on her journey. and it reminds me of our individual stories. and their great tendency to intertwine and intersect. and i am so grateful for these roadmaps of memories and experiences. the compass rose points to true north. truth and understanding. you are not alone. embrace this feeling. the burden is easier to bare when your arms are not the only ones to carry the load. when you can feel the arms around you. embracing you. remember: you are not alone. you are loved. just breathe.

i prayed for pages. books to read. something to fill in the empty space on cold evenings. and once again donald miller fell into my lap. searching for t-shirts on TWLOHA i stumbled on his latest publication. a million miles in a thousand years. a few clicks, and moments later the confirmation email announced delivery in two to four business days. amazon to the rescue. marley and i made the trek to the post office this morning. our early walk turned towards the end of the canyon instead of the mouth. headed for the snowy peaks that towered overhead. pulling my fists into the sleeves of my hooded sweatshirt and smoothing stray hairs that blow from under my toboggan. my package arrived today. and i am already one third of the way through it. for all his arrogant remarks and self deprecating tendencies, i must confess, donald miller is a man who pays attention to details. and i admire that. and his bold and brave approach to his work. his sleeves bare the bloody marks. the bumps and bruises of his open heart. tell tale signs of his chosen life. his story. perhaps without the once upon a time or the happily ever after, but thick with twists and turns. a character who wants something and overcomes conflict to get it.


"there's something about a good story that helps me escape. i used to go to the movies all the time just to clear my head. if it was a good movie, the experience felt like somebody was resetting a compass in my brain so i could feel what was important in my life and what wasn't ...you get a feeling when you look back on life that that's all god really wants from us, to live inside a body he made and enjoy the story and bond with us through the experience...i wonder if that's what we'll do with god when we are through with all this, if he'll show us around heaven, all the light coming in windows a thousand miles away, all the fields sweeping down to a couple of chairs under a tree, in a field outside the city. and we'll sit and tell him our stories, and he'll smile and tell us what they mean. i just hope i have something interesting to say."
-d. miller

and don't apologize for all the tears you've cried. you've been way too strong now, for all your life.

i guess we're all one phone call from our knees.

snow dusts ajax peak. white caps reaching for blue bird skies. proof that the crisp coolness of the recent night air, is a sign of things to come. winter is on its way. this is the real deal.

driving home last night, from the farm, in the darkest dark of a clouded sky. i arrived to civilization and a voicemail from my sister. and an email from sean. chris has passed away. it was an accident. thought you should know. knew you would understand. i hate that i do.

"you can't have any expectations for your time together," sean said as we walked through familiar philly streets. "it is what it is. you make the best with what you have and you love them the best you can because you don't have any idea how much time you have together."

you know this. you live this reality on a daily basis. it's a reality with everyone that passes into your life. but it is intensified when mental illness is involved. you have no idea if this conversation will be your last. there are no guarantees. no certainties other than everything is temporary. so embrace what is before you. but for most of us, we go about our lives with the false luxury of believing we have all the time in the world. taking all those little details for granted. and we waste our time worrying about wardrobes and cars and endless hours at jobs we hate. what would we do differently if we knew these were our last moments together? what would we do differently if we we not fearful of looking foolish in the eyes of social constructs?

in the past few years it has been cemented into my brain how amazingly short life is, in the grand scheme of things. a single eyelash held in a very large palm. and i don't have time to waste pretending anymore. what you see is what you get. and if at times i seem messy and frazzled it is probably no more so than the next person. it's just that my stuff is right there on the surface waiting to be dealt with. waiting to be sorted out. i wear my heart on my sleeve. i'm sorry if that scares you. imagine how i feel. be grateful i don't keep secrets.

every morning i wake to the smallest thought weighing on the back of my mind. on good days i can push past it. acknowledge its existence, but also my powerlessness to change the situation. deep breath. on with the day. -- but other times it grips and pulls and drags me deep into dark places. the powerlessness becomes malignant and suffocating. a shackle instead of a release. every phone call could be "the one." the one that informs me of my sisters death. her passing. would she have ended her life? or would it have been an accident? a mistake with her meds? the voices? i think about my life with her and what a horrible sister i have been. how difficult her life must be and how often i take mine for granted. the tiny freedoms i enjoy that she will never know. it breaks my heart. and its too hard. and i am exhausted.

hillary called me the other day. she apologized. she said she was sorry she couldn't be the kind of sister i needed. that i deserved. and she apologized for monopolizing all of my father's affections. "you see audge, he spends all his time worrying about me and taking care of me and spending his money on all the things i need, he just doesn't have anything left for you. and i'm so sorry there isn't time to worry about you. but you don't need it. you're perfect. and i love you."

how do you respond to that? how do you speak when your heart has leapt out of your chest? out of you throat. and despite your best efforts to break its fall, has smashed to bits at your feet below. how do you have anything but love for someone who holds you in such high regard? who looks at you with such compassion and admiration? how can you possibly explain those evil thoughts that creep into your brain? wishing your life were different. begging, pleading for some sense of normalcy. for some lightening of the weight. to feel less burdened. less burdensome.

today could very well be the day i receive that dreaded phone call. but it could also be the day i fall in love, or get my dream job, or find twenty dollars in my jeans pocket. it is what it is. make the best of it.

p.s. so far, today has been the day i woke early and ran the valley floor. drank coffee in the sunshine, dipping pumpkin biscotti. and received a text from my sister exclaiming how proud she is of me.
today is a good day.

…rest, nature, books, music…such is my idea of happiness…

and food.
cooking. and baking, more precisely. i am still on a quest to realize my dream of one day owning my very own b&b. but for now i will relish the simply pleasures i find in mixing ingredients and hosting my friends and family at the dinner table. my latest culinary adventures include sweet potato & black bean burritos and peach cobbler. mmmmmm...tasty.




note to self: cobbler is an indoor activity. i took this cobbler to an outdoor film screening and ended up covered in it's sticky yummy goodness. hilarious & delicious. and apparently our colorado peaches differ from the standard fuzzy georgian variety. the warm days and cool nights give our juicy summer fruits a unique taste that make them ideal for both savory dishes and decadent desserts. i'll be sure to stash some away for the winter months...as i'll be spending the next three consecutive tuesday evenings learning how to can/preserve. so excited.


--colorado peach cobbler--
Filling:
10 ripe peaches
3 tablespoons vanilla extract
1 teaspoon nutmeg
2 cups brown sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar
3 tablespoons corn starch

Biscuit Dough:
2 cups flour
1/4 cup granulated sugar, plus 1 1/2 tablespoons for the top
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 cup earth balance (vegan butter substitute)
3/4 cup soy milk

Directions
Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

In a large bowl, combine the peaches, vanilla, nutmeg, brown sugar, granulated sugar and corn starch. Mix together. Pour mixture into a 13-inch-by-9-inch casserole dish

Combine the flour, sugar, salt, and baking powder in a large bowl and mix. Cut in the vegan butter with a fork until the dough resembles sand. Slowly add the soymilk until the dough comes together. You may not need all of the soymilk.

Place the dough on a floured surface and knead it into a 13-inch-by-9-inch rectangle about 1/2-inch thick and place over the peach filling. Use remaining soymilk as a wash, brushing on top of dough. Sprinkle the 1 1/2-tablespoons of sugar on top. Cook the cobbler until the top is golden brown, about 40 minutes.

enjoy!

your breath was courage laced with alcohol. you leaned in, you said, "make music with the chatter in here, and whisper all the notes in my ears."

trying to salvage inspiration from the pit of sadness that has gripped me as of late. i can see the light.

1] blind pilot - 3 rounds and a sound
2] The Stationary Studio - create your own custom note cards
3] outdoor film screenings in elk park
4] redesign projects for brown dog
5] 500 days of summer. good sound track. and i want a chalkboard wall. plus i'm always down for a random syncronized dance sequence.
6] care packages
7] everwood
8] fall weather
9] football season
10] hikes

i’m just an idea that happened upon love. i am that i am. and that i am, is enough.

I overheard a woman's conversation in the restaurant, yesterday. "You should never let another individual control your sense of self and well-being." I glanced over my shoulder to witness the recipient's reaction to the advice. The eight year old little girl starred back at her mother in recognition. Then took a sip of her root beer.
Kids these days.