So, in conjunction with my roommate Linell yesterday at the fortuitous location of our neighborhood Panera, I pretty much finished my 2010 taxes. E-filed California, and just need to paper-file fed taxes. It wasn't so bad, all things considered. Maybe taxes aren't the Leviathan I thought.
Now, on to my 2009 Canadian taxes!
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Danice
Yesterday, at my neighborhood Stater Bros. store, I bought a 15 oz. box of Life Cereal. Which, of course, made me think of Danice. Danice was one of my four housemates in Vancouver, BC. Her mousy brown hair is short, with an amazing ability to array itself in a variety of styles. Danice loves Life cereal; her near-addiction to it rivaled only by my near-addiction to Nature Path’s Mesa Sunrise cereal, most often purchased for $5.99 at Dollar Grocers.
We lived on 1234 E. 7th Ave. in East Vancouver, in the Grandview-Woodlands neighborhood more commonly referred to as “The Drive,” referring to Commercial Drive, which runs north-south and is characterized by natural food shops, local coffee shops on every corner and a lot of hippie-or-hipster-types. Seventh Avenue was two streets south of the main street of Broadway Ave, and quiet; the street was home to the most perfect arching trees and to a Hungarian church just 3 doors east of our house. These arcing trees provided the visual aid and backdrop for a lovely evening walk with my friend Danielle one fall before I moved into this house, when we ended up talking about romance, unrequited love and how romance/relationships/marriage is but one arc under the grand arc of God’s redemptive narrative. These same trees met my gaze every morning from my triangular top floor window; it seemed a gift too extravagant that I could be living in a house on this street, of all streets.
Danice is not a fan of mornings. I learned this soon after I moved in and I sat down to breakfast. Danice emerged from her bedroom, adjacent to the kitchen, and prepared her edibles. I attempted to make some conversation with her, but didn’t quite succeed. Later, her longtime roommate Beth graciously informed me that it takes Danice some time to warm up to talking with people in the mornings, which I quickly noted.
One thing I always associate with Danice is her impassioned enthusiasm for almost anything. When Danice is excited about something, you know. Michael Jackson? Definitely. Dancing? For sure. Youth? No doubt about it.
We lived on 1234 E. 7th Ave. in East Vancouver, in the Grandview-Woodlands neighborhood more commonly referred to as “The Drive,” referring to Commercial Drive, which runs north-south and is characterized by natural food shops, local coffee shops on every corner and a lot of hippie-or-hipster-types. Seventh Avenue was two streets south of the main street of Broadway Ave, and quiet; the street was home to the most perfect arching trees and to a Hungarian church just 3 doors east of our house. These arcing trees provided the visual aid and backdrop for a lovely evening walk with my friend Danielle one fall before I moved into this house, when we ended up talking about romance, unrequited love and how romance/relationships/marriage is but one arc under the grand arc of God’s redemptive narrative. These same trees met my gaze every morning from my triangular top floor window; it seemed a gift too extravagant that I could be living in a house on this street, of all streets.
Danice is not a fan of mornings. I learned this soon after I moved in and I sat down to breakfast. Danice emerged from her bedroom, adjacent to the kitchen, and prepared her edibles. I attempted to make some conversation with her, but didn’t quite succeed. Later, her longtime roommate Beth graciously informed me that it takes Danice some time to warm up to talking with people in the mornings, which I quickly noted.
One thing I always associate with Danice is her impassioned enthusiasm for almost anything. When Danice is excited about something, you know. Michael Jackson? Definitely. Dancing? For sure. Youth? No doubt about it.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Economy of Grace
In the economy of grace—
where roses form beds
she brought forth two children
the first, perfect
the second, less
when the Lord God breathed into their nostrils
they were created
her husband stopped breathing
she kept on living
smelled a rose
took a breath,
held out her hand
and walked with God
in the city.
where roses form beds
she brought forth two children
the first, perfect
the second, less
when the Lord God breathed into their nostrils
they were created
her husband stopped breathing
she kept on living
smelled a rose
took a breath,
held out her hand
and walked with God
in the city.
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