Today’s Happy Note: It’s Thursday! Enough said. Okay wait. I want to elaborate. I got through everything today and have a fun plan for tomorrow! Today I had class all morning, work in the afternoon, a fro yo snack, a happy little afternoon nap and a great run. Tomorrow I am going to go to Trader Joe’s and will definitely be celebrating cookie Friday!
I did the whole eggs with pb and j thing for breakfast again today and man this is a delicious combo! But do NOT add protein powder to scrambled eggs. It’s nasty. I wasn’t doing it so that I could have even more protein in my breakfast, but because I wanted them to be sweeter (it was vanilla protein powder). The taste was pretty good but the texture was weird and chewy. Ick.
I am not a condiment person at all, outside of the occasional ketchup and mustard when I’m out somewhere (I don’t own my own), but I will put peanut butter and/or pb and j on anything! It’s not really a condiment I guess but it honestly goes with everything. I wouldn’t put pb on a good steak, but outside of that, I can’t really think of anything. Are you a condiment person? I know Averie loves them! I honestly don’t even use salad dressing most of the time.
Exercise: I had a nice, easy 7.5 mile run this evening. I love both Central Park and Riverside, but it’s even better when I combine them, which is what I did tonight. They each have their benefits, I guess. I hate it when CP is majorly crowded. I actually have a confession: the people who only run in/play in/utilize CP in the spring and summer annoy me to no end. I believe that since the parks are there year round, we should use them year round. This is one of my many weird little quirks. I blame it on my mom; I can’t tell you how many times I went hiking/skiing/playing in local and national parks in the snow as a child and teenager. I just feel like if you are a serious runner/biker/walker/person, you will find a way out to the park even when it’s cold or snowy. I am fully aware that I am being totally judgmental here. I just feel like all the people who suddenly show up to run when it’s 65 degrees and sunny aren’t “real.” Does this make me a horrible person?
I haven’t shared any writings or stories in a while, and I have a bunch building up since I’ve been doing a lot of writing for a prose class. This was written as a prose piece, but it might be a poem. I’m not sure. Sometimes I never know what form a bit of writing wants to inhabit.
If anybody wants to share their writing with me I would be most delighted to see it! You can always email me 🙂 And in case you were wondering, this piece is a true story, although some of the details may be slightly off.
I want to be in the bed with you: undertake a study on the length of your dead mother’s body, watch your curls spring back like eyes that roll around in our crumbling skulls. Crocuses. All I can think of is crocuses and here you are sleeping next to your just-dead mother. Perhaps she has not died to you yet. But crocuses – those slight purple creatures. And your father is a madman. A white crocus. No, yellow. A drunken crocus. Too much saffron. Too much grinding of the delicate leaves. I am sure your mother was not an abuser of crocuses, Mary.
And why is the body in the bed with you? A mistake? A clever use of a confined space? Where are Ilene and Catherine? Eugene and Timmy? Why are they not in the bed with you and the dead mother? In fact, what is the bed? A shape. A box with two parallel lines inside. Only one is not parallel – you are not parallel, Mary. No, a child has an angled body. Do you touch her feet? Climb along her belly? Try desperately to realize how her face is different now, softer, more alive? Make ovals with her hands?
I imagine 124th street is crawling with hot food carts and scoops of ale and small Irish boys. And if you are there, Mary, sitting on the porch in the space just before morning, surrounded by stony buildings, climbing (forever) away from your mother, staring into black puddles. If you are there, Mary, I am sure you are praying for hair that is not red and a father who does not drink himself to the floor.
See you all tomorrow! Goodnight friends.