mikvahs

This is soup. This is the soup I eat at my desk. It's got soba noodles in it and tofu and you get to choose two vegetables. Choosing which vegetables is the most difficult part, sometimes.

Which isn't saying anything about my life. It's just soup, guys.

There wasn't any soup at my desk in Maine. There was, however, a lake just down the hill from our cabin that I slipped into at dawn the morning of the wedding. I went in naked, because that's what you do for a mikvah, and the water was warm from the rain the night before.

There was also this in Maine:

I mean, THAT's a wedding. 

That's me there in the blue chiffon. We were a rainbow of chiffon. And by god, we actually looked lovely. Hear that, ESB? A RAINBOW OF CHIFFON. 

There have been some brave acts lately, like speaking from the heart, but here's the real truth: I'm afraid my bravery is becoming rote. I could publish a collection of righteous emails, I think. Maybe there's not enough doing. Real doing. Real brave doing. Maybe there's a little too much eating soup at my desk while listening to The Walkmen. Where's the line, exactly? I want to see the line, and then I want to put my heart on it. 

Also I want the perfect black dress. Nothing fancy, loose and sexy, with room for my not insignificant chest. Let me know if you've seen it.