i am a liar

i am a liar

we’re all liars, at some point. we lie to ourselves, our loved ones, our bosses, our g-d.

a drug counselor of mine, post “i totally got caught with weed in boarding school and now HAVE to, against my will, to some kind of counseling situation”, once told me: “NOT telling ’em is a lie”. The details of this matter not, but what he introduced me to was the lie of omission.

it’s a total bitch.

i am currently navigating a lie of omission. it concerns the bigger pictures of life, my career, my wants, my desires. it involves applying for a dream job, in a not-so-dreamy place, which, coincidentally, is where my current sweetheart resides.

what are my intentions here? every decision we make is driven by some underlying force. sometimes this force is plain as day, other times we are completely unaware of it’s dull, pulsing undercurrent as it guides us, like puppets on strings, to fulfill our destinies. sometimes, these strings feel restrictive. other times, insincere. all this jargon to ask: why the hell did i apply to this job?

there’s a few reasons:

1. i’m curious to see if i can even get it.
2. i want to be closer, physically, to my significant other, thus beginning the spiral into weekends of farmer’s markets, weddings, and shopping at home depot.
3. i want a change.
4. i’m grasping at nothing, i try because immobility will kill me.

the lie? i haven’t told my sweetie. why? because the gravity of even the small possibility of this job opportunity coming to fruition makes me doubt my intentions in the relationship. in the end? we want different things. i know that now. living closer together would solve nothing in the long term. for this, i feel guilty. we have recently rekindled the relationship – at MY bequest and MY efforts. can i be the one to end it again? why delay the inevitable? perhaps because it isn’t.

i lie to him, a lie of omission, i do not tell him my plans, i do not reveal what could be a solid lead to a fruitful partnership. this job offer leads us down a serious road, of lovely, beautiful things. but i just don’t know if those treasures are for me. perhaps these crimson rubies belong to someone else, and i’m just the girl for a faraway cache of sapphires.

for now, here’s a picture of my dog, as he stands proudly atop a mountain. he’s the man to whom i confidently divulge all my secrets.


taking pictures & other people’s things

taking pictures & other people's things

on sunday, i took pictures for my friend emma. she’s a maker of herbal, pretty, lovely, smelly body things. she asked me to take some pictures of her products. i said yes.

at the bottom of the hill, rocks rolling beneath my tires, i left a cape of dust and pulled underneath an old oak tree aside a yellow house. a yellow country house. a big white pyrnees, mabel, came loping out, growling lowly at my pooch, who cowered like the baby he is, his tail wagging uncontrollably.

he found a kitty. the kitty hid in the yard couch cushion. he looked for the kitty.

sugar scrub 4

emma’s house was lovely. as a former country bumpkin, i will stick vehemently to my vow to “never move out to the country again”, and, even when visiting the most picturesque of country abodes, this resolution stands firm. i ain’t got time for that shit, but bless anyone who does.

the house: quaint. the interior: impeccably redone. the decor: befitting of emma.

we tinkered with her products…. vanilla body oil, eucalyptus lim balm, homemade soap (yeah, with LYE), clove oil pull mouthwash, you get the picture.

i set up lovely displays. we talked about Green Fork Farmer’s Market, big brothers, to have children, to not have children. oh, lord, send me a man who things i am enough, and kids, come as they may, are not a necessity, a deal-breaker, a completion of happiness.

we spoke of dogs. we played with dogs.

pit stuff 8

i took, over the course of 3 hours, roughly 400 pictures. i edited them, and was shocked at my skill. or my lens’ skill. or our revolutionary synergistic creation in emma’s Ozark country kitchen.

i imagine i’ll be doing this more often. i love to capture a moment, and creating moments to capture is just as rewarding. the metallic grind of the camera lens has a precise soothing effect. my mind shifts as the lens adjusts, and for a moment my brain slides open as an aperture as we click together in a blessed frame.


you can never go home

you can never go home

the colorado girl returns to colorado. oh mighty square state, you speak to my soul. and this past week, you seemed to be whispering seductively, as i feel woozy from your caresses and pink sunsets and flat prairie dotted with sunflowers.

i’ve never been a big believer in all that “energy stuff”. but now (insert segway here) i’m a big one. colorado, you resonate with me. and i with you. i often get a case of the “homesick” when i visit my home state.

but i’ve also argued in the past that “you can never go home”. our homes, often synonymous with our naive, wondrous childhood, rampant with growth and an imminent & gradual loss of innocence. our home, and our mere definition of it, is intricately tied to childhood. only once we view our home through the dingy adult lens, we can see our place outside of it, standing alone in the backyard of the house we once lived in, the home we once had. it takes growing up. it takes a loss. a loss of home.

you can never go home again, because “home” is impalpable. it’s elusive. it’s malleable.


home is where your people are. home is where your horses roam. home is where you grew up into someone else, the person you’re destined to be, glimpses of fortitude.

let them eat (gluten free) cake

let them eat (gluten free) cake

what a feast. let’s talk birthday cake.

1. banana cake w/peanut butter & chocolate frosting
2. chocolate raspberry cake w/ vanilla frosting & sprinkles.

lucy’s ideas, laura’s execution. flawless. delicious. it was really nice to be able to eat and not worry about that pesky gluten.

james approved of both his birthday cakes. as he should, as they were delicious. he even consumed, upon returning from fly fishing with lucas and zachary, consumed two giant pieces of each, one which he ate in the camper, before taking a long and well-deserved afternoon nap.

“dad!” i emote as he dishes up his second giant piece of cake. “what?” he replies, cus it aint no thang.

james turns 70

james turns 70

this weekend, we headed up to Hermit Park in Estes to celebrate the big 7-0 for mr. james m. kagan.

the whole clan (minus Benny, but we’ll get to that later) came up – me, Luke, Laura (from Chicago), Kim, Marc, Zach, Nonnie and James himself endured two perfect nights of bliss in the Rocky Mountain wilderness to celebrate the life and love of jim kagan.

what an amazing weekend. we scored a little cabin at the very end of a long dirt road, surrounded by rounded rock formations and budding blue spruce. little wildflowers peeked out from under long prairie grass, and somewhere in the distance, the ruckus of a campground volleyball game echoed through the canyon. oh, and marc yelled at kim, and kim yelled at zach, and zach strutted about in his new bacardi shirt he so coyingly scored off a customer at hy-vee.

laura handled camping like champ – this was her first time sleeping in a tent – which we all made out to be a big deal for some reason, even though it really is no big deal. she and luke make such a perfect couple. mid camp-fire, i heard mention a phrase somewhere along the lines of “when we have kids….” and “our kids will not______”, etc. To which laura made a little comment along the lines of “oh yeah?” and they laughed, and it was no big thang. good lord, they’re goona be great parents. i’m so excited to be a part of their family.

i’m so part to be a part of the family i’m in. we are so honest and open and so imperfect in all the imperfect ways. i cannot express my love for family, and how proud i am to be a part of such a uniquely structured family, as ours. we have our issues – and we’re open and honest about them. maybe we harp on the negative, but we acknowledge it.

i broke down about benny and his troubles mid-camp fire singing. zach gave me a big hug and lucas gave me a bigger hug, and we talked about it a bit and then marc started singing cheesy campfire songs with reckless abandon.

james brought us all together. he’s the glue. he’s made all our lives possible. without him, we would not have been together in the mountains to celebrate his life and the lives he’s given us. i am so incredibly proud to be his daughter. so proud. how did i get this lucky?