When will you decide

..not to stand on the corner of worry and guilt anymore?

Perhaps today, because after seeing that both are unattractive

in someone else, you decide to make yourself beautifully unlike.

Perhaps today, as you realized the sliver moon will return to full.

Perhaps today, as you used riches to bring comfort and happiness.

Perhaps today, just because there were two rabbits,

and a deer, and a man walking down the street playing a guitar.

Perhaps today, since the walk was long and the knee was strong

and you felt yourself moving, again, on eager feet.

Okay, okay, okay -- I hate this blog. Except for the idea of "the corner of worry and guilt." That's a good line, especially for a country song. I also like the idea of "eager feet" but, honestly, I stole that from John Lentz, my minister. And he stole it from a poem.

I tried to write in a Maya Stein voice, using second person with genius. And God knows, I am no Maya Stein.

What I really wanted to say -- and that is the point of this, isn't it? -- is that I saw some stuff today. A deer crossing Cedar Road at Legacy Village. Bounding in and out and over expensive suburban cars. And how, seeing that, I want part of me to remain untamed here. I want this, the place in which I live, to not soften me. I want there to be life and death encounters where I have to run my ass off just to make it to the other side. I am getting a little bit afraid of the monotony of my cake eating life.

And I want to say that I walked into a restroom and I saw a woman in the handicapped stall, her walker in the middle of the bathroom. The door to her stall was wide open -- I could tell just getting there was an effort. And she was pulling down her pants, and, I think, her underwear Depends. I did not really look, I just heard something crinkly, and I know that sound from my grandmother and mother both. The sight of her both horrified me and made me wicked jealous. She did not give a fuck about what anyone else would think, and that -- living that way -- can elicit all kinds of reaction. It made me wonder of I will end up as crazy and brave as she is.

And I want to say that I had a conversation with a neighbor who was so worried about taking a little vacation with her kids. Did not know where to stay or how long to stay and what they could afford to do and not do. And, her indecision about a GOOD THING clearly sent a message to me about having what I have without stewing over it. Just have it, be grateful. So, yeah, I got central air conditioning yesterday and I bought a big new shiny iMac and both, already, are making me happy. I know there are starving children in China, and yet, I can have what I want. Those two ideas can co-exist without me feeling some Jewish-Catholic-Mother-privileged guilt about it. There is more to do to save the world and maybe, just maybe, I will be able to do it, better and faster, on my new computer in my cool house. As best I can I am not going to stand on the corner of worry and guilt anymore. I am driving to the other side of town, going to hang out on East Peace Road, just around the block from "Life-is-short" Park.

And I want to say that I am not quite so sure about the closed door part to having central air conditioning. I liked hearing the outside. I liked knowing who was coming and going, who was striding up onto my porch. I liked knowing when T and S were playing outside so that I could go outside. Anne says I should get an all glass door, and I liked that. All glass all the time, so that just a thin scrim separates me from my home and the world outside. So that I can come home with eager feet and leave -- be out in it -- with eager feet.

Maybe I need to stop thinking in poems and just let my fingers type the truth, hoping that that will be beautiful enough as is. I should trust my fingers, too. They type so much faster when I am doing this. They find the right keys without errors and add ons. Even my fingers want me to tell my truth my way.

So this is all what I wanted to say when I wrote that bad, bad seventh grade poem. What I really wanted to say was all of this.