In Which I Fail at the "Ring Check"

So I gave my number to a married man this week.

Let's talk about it.

I am in charge of utilities in my apartment, meaning, I have to go to the bank at least once a month and deposit three checks into my account. On these such occasions, over the past 5 months or so, I often struck up a conversation with one of the tellers there. I thought he was cute, but didn't act on anything. And by usually struck up a conversation, I mean this only happened like, three times. (I did do the finger-check, you guys! There was NO RING.)

Well the other day, I went inside for the first time in a while, and struck up maybe my fourth conversation with this said teller. He commented on the fact that I hadn't been in for a while, and that I usually go through the drive through nowadays. Now he had done it-- he noticed that sort of thing! It was time. So, I did what any sensible girl would do, and I decided to, you know, give him my number. I marched out of that credit union, got in my car, and began writing. I didn't even know his name. I got out a little piece of notebook paper and scribbled some short thing about how this might be unprofessional but that I didn't care-- here-- folded it up-- and addressed it. "Teller #0017482" or whatever his number was (it was on the sheet that he had just printed out after depositing my checks. I know, I'm a genius, right? uhh.).

So I thought it was pretty romantic. I drove up to the window, stashed the note inside, and sent it on up the tube, driving away without even looking at the person who ended up opening it. I knew it would end up where it needed to.

So about week goes by. At this point, I assumed he had a girlfriend or simply wasn't interested, and had forgotten the thing. The dating scene is all about putting yourself out there, and when it doesn't work, who cares, right? You move on. I was not very crushed.
Well then I get this text.
"Hey, is this kait?"
"I just wanted to let you know that I was totally flattered to receive your note..."
[insert fluff]
"..but I didn't call back because I just got married about a month ago. I didn't want you to feel totally rejected or anything like that, because you are sweet. So hopefully you're not embarassed..."

hahaha... oh. my. gosh.
In my defense, I had done the ring check in the past. I only saw him briefly this time, and wasn't thinking to check again. The thought never crossed my mind!

So that's the story.

And now I have to go back to that bank. If it wasn't pretty hilarious, it might just be the most awkward situation in my world. But you know. At least it makes a good story (I feel that a solid 75% of my life experiences end up with me telling myself those last seven words, just to make myself feel better).

Ladies and gentleman, do the ring check more than once. Things can change fast in this here dating scene.

And that's all I really have to say.

This Girl

"True friends are always together in spirit. (Anne Shirley)"

-L.M. Montgomery

Two (ish) years ago I decided to embark on a crazy, incredible adventure. In the process I met this girl.

I guess it would be fair to mention here that I believe in kindred spirits. How could I not?

I love a lot of thing about our friendship, but here are some of the memories that stick out:

-Toughing it out in the woods of Oregon, and by "toughing it out," we went through an entire bottle of lighter fluid

-Ice Skating in a blizzard on Kreshatyk

-Our little hole-in-the-wall chinese runs

-Our late night talks. (sometimes she was just hit on the head with a ton of energy at 2 AM, rare, but hilarious).

-That one time we came within inches of hitting a deer, and laughed for a good solid 10 minutes afterward.

-The day we just layed out on the porch in the rain and stared up at the sky.

-Doner Kabob's in Ukraine. We were bottomless.

-Getting the worst seats on the plane to Stockholm, and laughing about it the entire way.

-Her face when she accidentally ordered "Chai" (tea) instead of what she really wanted in Kyiv

-When we decided we really needed to strip ourselves from pride and watch the last "Twilight" movie, simply because we were camping in the woods where it was filmed

-When she made me sing Taylor Swift's "22" on my 22nd birthday

-When we tried to make Gourmet french toast, and instead we ended up with soggy bread

-Her love for peanut butter (she bought me a brand new jar when she had only eaten a few spoonfuls of it)

-The way we both tried so hard to be healthy and then would just forget it and go to Cold Stone

-Singing as loud as we could to the radio in the car

-The fact that we never fight (except for a tiny bout of craziness that happened just before her wedding, but we both realized we were stressed out of our minds, and came back to ourselves, and all was good.)

-And lastly, how happy she was on her wedding day, and how irrevocably happy I was in turn to see her marry someone who loves her like she deserves.

Ukraine was difficult, but I'd do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping her in my life!
She claims that I was the one who saved her, but I am convinced it's the other way around.
She's my person, and as much as I miss her, I keep reminding myself how lucky I was to get to spend the past 7 months just a bunk-bed-away from her.

Ya Lublu, Britiskaya. Can't wait to fly out to GA and visit you this weekend. <3<3

m o v e m e n t

what i’m just now coming to realize is that the difference between the terror and the thrill–that razor-edge that separates the two, is faith.

i remember sending up a particularly vociferous prayer towards the start of the year, which wasn’t so much a prayer as a demand, what do you want from me? what do you want from me? six words i said again and again. six words i angrily flung upward. and the answer came back immediate and clear: more faith.

more faith.

which at the time i thought meant more patience, and patience has never been my virtue.

but now, these many months later, i don’t think it is patience. it’s not about more patience or less patience. it’s about a seed of self-belief. and how that seed is actually a divine thing. it’s about embracing the bits that don’t make any sense. trusting that the story is in fact made by the departures and aberrations. it’s about wonder and curiosity. about moving forward and upward even if the movement is a sort of graceless thrashing about. it’s about clawing and clamoring and dirt beneath the fingernails. it’s about saying i don’t know. and i don’t know. and i don’t know, again. because one day i will. and if one believes that in the end it’ll all work out–even and most especially in the face of overwhelming doubt–than those moments of discomfort and unease and fear are made sweet and holy and wholly lovely by their impermanence.

//Meg Fee//

Today is not my day

Why is it that we, as human beings, can go an entire movie full of gore and people getting shot and killed right and left and it doesn't phase us.... then we turn around and watch a movie about one single puppy who dies and we all sob like a little baby??

Yeah. I used to ask myself that same question.
Well, not to throw myself a pity party or anything but, you guys, I totally get it. My little dog Moka has been diagnosed with full-blown diabetes and in the past week has gone totally blind. Diabetes is nasty business, people. Put that sugar down.

But seriously. This is rough. I am all the sudden this little emotional wreck. I am pretty tough when I make up my mind to be (and the fact that I cry in pretty much every single movie is simply
because I choose to, okay? It's a choice. I like investing it all into movies). But you guys. This is pretty bad. This is sweet little Moka! He only has a few more months.. if that. And you can tell he is suffering greatly but he still keeps his tail wagging and tries to be all cheerful. If you don't believe me, just come over. It's ridiculous, and inspiring, and totally heart-wrenching.
Because yes, we could treat him, but it would cost over $3,000 bucks, and it would require giving him shots twice every single day. Now, I'm no Einstein, but I do know that dogs HATE shots. They don't understand them. Also, hypoglycemia is hard enough to recognize in a human, let alone a little dog! That would be complicated, too.

Let's ignore the poor quality of my phone's camera and just bask in how cute this lil' lion is. He has lost about 10 pounds in a month..... he doesn't look this hearty anymore :(

Mine is a life that has not experienced the death of anyone that close to me, I have experienced the death of many of my patients, and our old dog Molly a long time ago, but this is different. So.... I don't really know what to do with myself. But in order to not make this post totally depressing let's just all end on this thought:

Try to be the person 

your dog thinks you are.

Just do it.
K thanks bye.

love is all, from what I've heard

I'm a really old guy, so when I tell you that nothing matters more than love, listen.

I've been wondering a lot lately. I used to think we loved people because we had the best image in mind, we'll love them because they fit the pattern. The more I have experience with love, respect, admiration, the more it has to do with the dropcloth.  The more I love my wife, and don't tell her this because I am in pursuit of urging her to drop some of her bad habits, but I think I love her more for those weird things than for the things that fit the pattern. It is because of who she is, who she uniquely is.  Everything has a pattern in it, an individual instinctual pattern.  In that individuation, it is God.  He is in us, he is somehow really in us.  God's creativity is reflective in our individuality. That is why our individuality matters so. We are bleered, shmeered, smeared with Man's smudge and smell, and it is absolutely beautiful.  How long would it take Salt Lake City, if people left it alone, to come back to the way God intended? I bet in fifty years, you'd have a hard time telling it was there ever.  The world is overused and under-appreciated.  The world resurrects, but sooner or later we're going to die as a result of abusing it. It is not a theological ideal. It's like the way we love, it's real. We genuinely do it. We can't help but respond to the individuality of another person. The nasty and the lovely are inherent in the other.  If you change your perception, it is all there, and that's okay. It's the connectiveness, connectivity that gets me. It's sacramental. Its going everywhere, but its all coming close.

It is ramifying.

//Steven Walker//