*tap tap tap*

Is this thing on?

Hey there, wordpress. It’s been a while.

4 years, 8 months, 6 days, 17 hours, 5 minutes and 2 seconds to be exact, but who’s counting?

I’m still riding my bike. I still read books. I still like the color blue. I’m coming back. I promise.



Statistically Speaking….

Or not, as I don’t really know enough about stats to do any calculations, but here is a numbers based review of the biggest thing I just did:

10,359 miles by plane
733 miles by bus
176 miles by rental car
10 miles (or so) of subway rides
25 miles (or so) by cab
150 miles (give or take a few dozens) walked (in museums, surface streets, through subway stations and airport terminals)
19 days
6 countries (though 2 don’t really count)
1100+ photos and videos

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The days keep passing

It’s been 11 days. It feels like yesterday, but yet, it feels like it was forever ago. I still cry. I still miss her like crazy. I cried yesterday. I cried today! This is definitely the “blues” part of my blog title.

We are going to Europe for 3 weeks for a research trip, and friends are watching the dogs and the house for us while we are gone. The vet called, and said that Noire’s remains are back, ready to be picked up when I am ready, and that they will take good care of her until that time. It made me cry all over again. While we are in Europe, I plan to look for the perfect box or container to bring her home in. I have a great photo I took of her feet. It was actually a scan – I had her sit on the scanner and got a perfect image. I want to use that to create an image of her paws and frame it with a photo of her, and her collar and tag in a shadow box. The container will sit on the shelf beside the bed, near me as I sleep.

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Elegy for a Suicide

By John Poch

She always liked to blow the candles out. Fact:
there’s only so much you can do with friction
and an intentional hand before the hand burns.
The sound that scissors make in a child’s hand
while crunching construction paper aches when
she grows older. Even popcorn ceilings lose that style,
that feeling of a cereal freshly drowned in milk. Continue reading