Voting-O-Rama?

Last night, my friend Cori and I were having gelato in Little Italy next to some classic old Italian men. I'm talking gold chain, chest hair, Aqua-Net hair, and thick accents. With a week until election day, politics eventually came up in their conversation. The guy with the biggest gold chain said, "Yeah, well that Bak O-Rama is going to...."
Go ahead, say it out loud in your best Italian accent. CNN is a lot more entertaining when you mentally insert some O-Ramas.

Humanifesto

I want to be a grace guerilla
no longer a chameleon of karma
the time has come to stand out from the crowd.
I want to give forgiveness a fighting chance of freeing me
I want to live in love
and live it out loud.

I want to drink deep of the foolishness of wisdom
instead of swallowing the wisdom of fools
I want to find a source in the deeper mines of meaning
to search out the unsearchable
to invoke the invisible
to choose the truth the TV hypnotists aren't screening.

No camouflage
no entourage
no smoothly fitting-in
I want a faith that goes further than face value
and a beauty that goes deeper than my skin.

I want to be untouched by my possessions
instead of being possessed by what I touch
to test the taste of having nothing to call mine
to hold consumption's cravings back
to be content with luck or lack
to live on water as well as on wine.

I want to spend myself on those I think might need me
not spend all I think I need on myself
I want my heart to be willing to make house calls.
Let those whose rope is at an end find in me a faithful friend
Let me be known as one who rebuilds broken walls.

No camouflage
no entourage
no smoothly fitting-in
I want a faith that goes further than face value
and a beauty that goes deeper than my skin.

I want to be centered outside the circle
to be chiseled by a different seam
I want to be seduce by another story
and drawn into a deeper dream
I want to be anchored in an undiscovered ocean
to revolve around an unfamiliar sun
a boom box tuned to an alternate station
a bullet fired from a different gun.

No camouflage
no entourage
no smoothly fitting-in
I want a faith that goes further than face value
and a beauty that goes deeper than my skin.

-Gerard Kelly on The Door CD/DVD (released 12/1)

The Farmer's Walk

I can't count how many times I mumbled under my breath, "China, you win! You always do!" over the last couple years. Today was no different, and for an entirely different reason. I'm not talking about the nation that holds 1/4 of the world's population, the land of Mao, tai-chi, or incredible eggplant dishes. I'm talking about actual dishes...porcelain plates, bowls, and cups (also known as china).

The day started off wonderfully. I further explored San Diego's mass transportation and took the Coaster train from San Diego to Oceanside, then the Sprinter light rail from Oceanside to my friend's house in Vista (about 40 miles away). On the agenda today: 8 year old girl's birthday party. And it had all the essential ingredients: stickers, scavenger hunt, and sugar. We partied hard for 4 hours and just before I left my dear friend gave me a gift, two big 12 piece sets of dishes for my new house.

I was thrilled and thankful, and then I realized that I had many mass transportation adventures ahead of me and 24 new items for the ride. The Sprinter, the Coaster, the Trolley, and then the Walk. There's no 'the Walk' mass transit system, I'm capitalizing it because I'm feeling like it deserves it. In the same way that that we capitalize the Fall (of man), the One (we'll marry), the Boss (pictured above).

We double bagged the boxes with sturdy Trader Joe's bags, and it seemed like an easy plan. I hoped that a friend would be able to pick me up from the Old Town Station so my shoulders wouldn't disconnect from their sockets.

If you think I'm being dramatic, the next time you come over and enter the kitchen, I'm going to hand you our 8 plates, 8 large bowls, and 8 mugs and encourage you to take a 12 block walk including uphill portions and stairs!

I have great friends. But they're important, busy people. They're invited to parties, weddings, or BBQ's on Saturday afternoons. They don't have time to transport my new plates to their new home.

So I did the Walk...all .6 miles uphill, no joke. (GoogleMaps says .6, but it felt like at least 2 miles). Rainclouds loomed above and I threatened heaven with a "Don't you DARE!". Can you picture it? I'm walking home, it's pouring, the brown bags get soaked, the porcelain falls through, shatters, and I collapse on someone's yard to laugh/pout.

Instead I had a moment when I felt like the world (well maybe just the weather) revolved around my little life. As I put my key into the lock, exhausted and kind of shaky in the shoulders region, I felt a raindrop hit my forehead, and just as I had both of my feet on the hardwood floors of my house, the downpour began! How I wish someone was there to witness the poetry of the timing with me...I really LOL'd by myself in an empty house. If it has been just 5 minutes later, you'd have found a mysterious and troubling scene involving a 24 year old standing in an intersection- breaking, throwing, and juggling 24 pieces of dishware on the evening news. Caption at the bottom of the screen: SoCal Residents React to Rain.

The best part: Katie just told me that there's a CrossFit workout called The Farmer's Walk, that's basically the same thing. You have to carry dumb-bells around the gym. I was thinking about signing up for CrossFit, but my life lately has been a series of interesting workouts. And it seems that no matter how far I get away from little ole Kerman, I'm still called a farmer.