From Justin

Valise-ian Fields

For Drea: Thank you for cooking for me.

I've often said that when I die, I want everything I own to fit into a suitcase. This is only because I have a really bulky toothbrush. Otherwise, I would just use a Wal-Mart bag. But then the eco-nuts would draw-and-quarter me and use me for organic compost. So, yes, Samsonite. Banville says that maybe life is all a great preparation for the leaving of it. That sounds very neatly contained, and I think that's a part of it, sure. But even more than my suitcase-stuff, I want to de-collect invisible things. I want, when I die, to smile at the thought of breathing being my last, heaviest burden. I will have forgiven and been forgiven. I will have loved and been loved. I will live and leave and live again. You can keep the suitcase.

-justin mcdevitt

smitten. smoldering.

I'm one of those people who uses three out of four stove-top burners for one meal. Pay close attention - I have a way of juggling too much, but I'll make it look like I was born to stir three pots at once.

Today someone asked me about how much I trusted God's providence. I didn't have much of an answer, so I thought it was best to stew on the question a bit. And eight hours later I'm suddenly struck sick with the thought that this might not work out the way I thought. Or hoped. And I'm not sure what to do with that. I'm not ready to just let go of this. In fact, I'm pretty adamantly refusing. And it's not the thought of not gaining something that's painful; it's losing something.

I'm not sure where I wandered off. But I found myself in a good place. So imagine my surprise only to return to find all these pots boiling over.