Definite Life Goals

• Be a good cat-mama for Artie & Madeline
• Be able to assist our parents to live a better life
• Be an awesome partner/wife for Retardo
• Be debt-free by the time our as yet unmade child graduates high school
• Be more confident/spend less time hustling for approval
• Continue making a large portion of my clothing
• Do work that improves other people's lives
• Explore my spirituality & feel alive in my life
• Feel valued and supported in my work life
• Give more--work up to tithing 5% each year
• Go on one 10+ day and three 3+ day trips each year
• Have a monthly party that won't break our budget
• Have an amazing garden with tons of edibles
• Have and raise a child - be an awesome mama
• Have our own house with a good wishhome rating
• Know conversational Korean
• Live an earth-friendly sustainable lifestyle
• Love & support my extended family and friends
• Make art every day
• Make time each week for playing, dancing, and singing
• Live with less--simplify the un-necessities

Joy

Girl Heroes From Books That Inspire Me

• Harriet the Spy
• Paloma Josse 
• Pippi  Longstocking
• Hermione Granger
• Matilda Wormwood
• Flavia de Luce
• Meggie 
• Anne of Green Gables
• Meg Murray

What Does Water Smell Like?

The clean wash, the rinse of taste out of my mouth, the salty and the sweet of  lunch swept away until only the taste of water remains. The smell of the taste of salt on the ocean, each breath inhaling the waves, in and out. I'm having a hard time with these prompts, pretending to ignore them most of the time, halfheartedly reading them at other times. I think it's the reading of everyone else's responses on facebook that makes me feel like I have to write to impress. Write for others' satisfaction or response. (What would you do if you knew you could not fail?) I know that I love the smell of water. The smell of my lake, standing on the rocks and feeling my family stretched all around me, the creaking rot of the boathouse, the musty smell of the bunk beds they built under the garage. The smell that encompasses spiders and columbines and back alley bridge; the microwave with the rotating numbers--spin them up, watch them count down; the pantry that still holds the phantom smell of prune juice and oatmeal and whiskey; the pictures of grandma and grandpa and his biggest fish; the raccoons who used to live in the tree outside the window by the dining room table--waiting for grandpa to put peanut butter on the pine-cones. All of it surrounded by the smell of the lake shore, the calm lapping of the waves, the thin mountain grass on the protected shoreline.  The smell of being young and hugging my grandma on the beach; roasting marshmallows and toasting my cold legs by the bonfire; being a teenager and putting on deodorant and body spray in the bathroom with my cousin, practicing being cool, practicing knowing everything I thought I needed to know about life and sex; coming up on an odd weekend with my first love to do laundry and watch the waves while the dryer spun and shook; even this summer, the smell of our mini-moon, the half week of resting in the bed that was my great grandparents, cuddled inside the cabin, listening the to rain plinking on the roof, dripping into the water, the smell of the lake on my wedding dress, rob's wedding suit. the red and orange petals from the roses we brought with us spinning out onto the clear green water, under our feet and over the dock. The smell of the lake, dancing and laughing inside me--breathing in and breathing out.