Hump Day

Yes, it is Wednesday again, and I am glad for it. My Mondays and Tuesdays always seem so weighed down, but my class schedule lightens in the latter half of the week. This past weekend I was also working hard on an essay I should have been working hard on all semester, and I turned in the first draft last night. It is not brilliant by any means, but I like it. Writing it, I felt for the first time in a long time that I was creating something that has a purpose, that is going somewhere. This essay is taking on a life of its own, and I'm excited to see where it goes.

Tonight I am going out for dollar sushi and then to a concert-- David Boone and Tom Catmull--with my friend Jacob. This will be the third time in my life that I've had sushi, the fourth time I've heard David Boone, and the fifth time I've heard Tom Catmull. It should be a good evening--have I mentioned how much I love the Missoula music scene?

Last night I went to the Old Post and had Moose Drool and nachos for the first time in three weeks. Three weeks without Old Post nachos--well, it's not something that should ever happen again. There is an EVST joke about how quickly Teresa and I can put away a plate of nachos . . . we are pretty talented when it comes to devouring good food. Mmm, nachos.

I think I will post here the ending of my essay. I'm not sure that I'll keep it as the ending (it depends on how the essay itself develops and changes), but I like it. It's been raining every day this week, and the grass is turning green and the buds are appearing on the trees . . . spring is coming!

My essay is on communion, and Iowa, and manna from heaven . . . and unknown other topics, to be discovered in the next few weeks. Enjoy.

It is raining today, a quiet, washing spring rain. I heard it in those first moments of consciousness early this morning, heard it dripping on the roof, heard the water-muffled sounds of traffic outside my window, saw the gray dim light spilling into my bedroom. I walked out into the day, into one of the first rains of spring, and felt the cold drops on my cheeks and nose and hair. The grass will turn green now, and other flowers will pop up to join the fallen bits of crocus color that lie scattered on my neighbors’ lawns. And perhaps, along with the rain, sweet white flakes will come drifting down from heaven, falling down to rest on the glistening grass, and I will pick them up, filling my hands with what I need for the day and no more. My neighbors, too, will be out on their lawns, marveling at this gift from the sky. We will kneel to scoop it up; we will smile at one another across the street and over the fence. We will bring our brimming hands to our mouths, and the flakes will melt on our tongues, will be washed down with raindrops.