my best pair of comfortable jeans

i talked to an old friend the other day...one i hadn't spoken to in years. when we were talking, she mentioned she'd been reading anne lamott, and i said, "yeah, she's still like my best pair of comfy jeans." (i'm sure anne would shiver with flattery at that compliment...)

anyway, yesterday kind of sucked. combine too little sleep, with the first day of your period, and throw in some clash of management and basic philosophies of life in a capacity that feels very close to your heart, and you get a pretty sucky day by most standards (which is my way of saying, "i don't think i was being overly sensitive on this one") so at the end of the day, when i was drunk with exhaustion (and not the kind of drunk that makes dancing on the table to your new favorite song sound exciting), i grabbed my best pair of comfy jeans. i opened to an essay called "dear old friend," which seemed strangely appropriate. here's the first paragraph of anne's essay...

"We turn toward love like sunflowers to the sun, and then the human parts kick in. This seems to me the only real problem, the human parts--the body, for instance, and the mind. Also, the knowledge that every person you've loved will die---many badly, and too young--doesn't really help things. My friend Marianne once said that Jesus has everything we have, but he doesn't have all the other stuff, too. And the other stuff leaves you shaking your sunflower head your whole life through."

amen to that, sister.

peace