iphone photos for the week

it's good to be home and creative with the small boy again.


run. ran. running.

I bought a pair of ridiculous looking shoes and began to run. It took a long time to get over it all. The "it" being the healthy husband, the marathoning friends, the serious lack of lung health, the absolute distrust of my ability to find success in any sport-related activity, and not being able to ever find my sports bra.

The runners I know and love run for miles and miles and eat gels and train and race and track and time. I love them and their running love; it's why, after 5 years of supporting their gatoradey ways, I began -- and think I can actually follow through this time. I am not training for a race. I am not monitoring my speed/distance/calories. I am not ever having the expectation of doing this for more than 30-40 minutes at a time. My only goals are weight related. And it feels different. Maybe the endorphins? Maybe the opportunity to be in the wild by myself for a while? Maybe I am just in that expanding place and want to run in the trees alongside of Jesus and sometimes joey and sometimes siah and feel the physical free that my heart has returned to.

Yes, that sounds right.


from many thousands of feet above the desert

Mostly I feel like looking out the window at the stream of broken lights and weeping. She is a shattered girl, collected in a tall glass with a lid that doesn't fit quite right. I am a shattered girl who is familiar to this feeling of having been spilled upon the kitchen floor, my important bits lost beneath the lip of the cupboard. I will be collected in the dustpan again, and reglued into the next manifestation of self. I will be whole and new again again again. So will she. Again again again.