.

It's beautiful out. If you need me, I'll be at the river.

My hands become dry

like water, you run through my hands
i can't grasp your every drop
my fingers don't stay tight enough
and i watch you slip away.

you cling to the edges of my fingers
idle yourself on the surface
but gravity takes ahold
and i watch you slip away.

my hands catch my tear drops
clasped so tightly, it starts to fill up
but still it seeps
and now from both ends
i watch us slip away.

Ok Karma, I've done my part.

The 10k started out rainy and miserable. I was wearing my superannuated Memphis State sweatshirt (they are now called University of Memphis, therefore this sweatshirt holds close to my heart) and it smelled like a wet dog. I was hungover. Damn Irish Car bomb.
It was a great experience. So many supportive Richmonders selflessly cheered us by the thousands with abiding smiles on their soaking wet faces. You felt a sense of community and pride for a good cause. I get so much joy out of doing races for cancer, breast cancer, aids, etc. I think next year I'm going to run it.
When I got home today, there was a sketchy black bag ontop of my car. It was getting rained on and I felt sorry for it. It reminded me of that Ikea commercial with the lamp sitting outside in the rain. It crossed my mind that perhaps I was being set up (I have mean weirdo neighbors) but I decided to look through it, being the snoopy gal that I am. There were 2 lovely glass bowls (you know, bowls), a scale, a pair of jeans, and a phone. I didn't know what to do, so I set it on the ground in hopes it would grow legs and return itself to its rightful owner. It was just too sketchy. After a couple hours in my house, I went outside to my car and the bag was still right where I had left it, unscathed and desolate. I took the bag into my car and drove to Nathan's parents house to have dinner, all the while pondering what I should do with it. Part of me wanted to keep some of the goodies inside, but most of me wanted to give it back to whomever was missing it. After dinner I checked the phone inside of the bag and someone had been desperately trying to leave text messages and voicemails. When I got home I called some number and a snobby girl answered. She probably didn't expect the bag to fall into the hands of a nice person. Her friend came by my house shortly afterwards to get reclaim it. This girl had to have been 18 or 19, a zitty little freshman most likely, with glazed red eyes and a pubescent skater punk by her side for refuge. Whoever's bag it was was obviously a pot dealer. The bottom of the bag was covered with a thick layer of little pretty green and red flakes. The old man in me wanted to tell the girl to be more fucking careful with such a valuable bag, but I didn't. Part of me wanted to slip a piece of paper with my number on it into the bag so that I could be rewarded, heh, but I didn't. I simply gave it back. And it felt great. Those kids are lucky it didn't fall into the hands of a perilous ganster or a Richmond bum who would've sold all of the contents for a bottle of cheap whiskey. I guess it doesn't matter what's in the bag, be it legal or not. What matters is doing the right thing. Foregoing my temptations to benefit myself with what was inside, it's worth it to be smiling right now, knowing the puerile teens of Richmond are taking a celebratory pipe to the face because of me.

Time to bust out the dresses?

AGH! Hurry up and get warm already! Someone is playing a foul trick on dear Mother Earth, poor gal. Here it is, April 1st and it's not even close to being shorts-deserving weather. Spring, I insist you get here, and get here fast...I need a tan and a reason to dress risque.

So Nathan (Taryn's boyfriend) fell off his bike today and broke his arm. He is in surgery right now because apparently it got pretty mangled. UPDATE! Just got off the phone with Taryn and he broke both his big bones in his forearm and completely ripped apart his wrist joint and the little bones in it. He is getting metal plates and screws. (poor Nathan!!)
I visited him at the hospital and I can't begin to describe the akwardly bulging mess that was his right arm.
His parents are super cute and his dad is especially super cute because he was wearing a suit and a pink bowtie when I first met him in the waiting room. I SO hope my husband dresses like that when he's older. I know Nathan will be okay because he is badass.

I almost made a drastic boo boo the other day. I am currently growing my hair out from last summer's butchering (although it turned out very cute but required monthly maintenance that I wasn't willing to take on) so my hair looks like shit right now. The other day I got this crazy idea (actually I've wanted to do this for a while but it lingers in the back of my head as a possibility) that I should chop all my hair off like a boy and bleach it blonde. First of all, it has recently come to my attention that Louie's ex-girlfriend has that EXACT smokin' Agy Deyn cut and obviously I can't do it now, but I reeeeally wanted to do something bold and goofy because hey, I think we can all agree that sometimes we get bored when we look into that mirror. I've spent literally hours looking at pictures online of this haircut and the other day I was I-------I close to walking out of the door and making an appointment with some flashy Richmond salon. Welp, by the time I got up the nerve it was 5pm on a Saturday and I couldn't find anywhere that was still open (aside from the neighborhood Hair Cuttery and ...fuck that.) So, I'm still at square one and I'm still growing my hair out. The thing is, I have lovely hair, it's healthy and got just enough wave to it but not too much, and the natural red highlights that shimmer in the sun are sparkly but I have no patience for hair-growing and wish it was longer than it is. I might eventually do this.

I am stoked about the Hills...I feel so far that this is going to be a juice-ay season.
C'mon Spring, gimme some.