Have I ever told you about my friend Jenna?

Friend, of course, must be used loosely as this former college partner-in-crime is now married with two kids and our personal interaction has devolved to annual Christmas card exchanges. On the one hand, I know Jenna so well that if I were in her neighborhood I would open the kitchen door calling hello and let her find me scanning the inside of her refrigerator. On the other hand, I don?t have the smallest idea of what a day in her life is like?what she thinks about, dreams about, delights in, is worried about, etc.

Are we friends or strangers or both?

I once learned something from Jenna that will probably come off poorly here as I try to capture it in writing, but whatever. Right after college, Jenna joined the Peace Corps and shipped out to Kenya where she did two back-to-back stays.

(Yes! At a time I could barely get myself dressed in the morning and ate nothing but ice cream for weeks at a time, Jenna was living without running water or cold milk for cereal and teaching deaf children sign language in a remote village in Africa).

During her stay, Jenna and I exchanged weekly letters?letters!?on pale blue air mail stationery. One Christmas she came back for a short visit and we all gathered up with her for dinner and drinks at somebody?s loft apartment somewhere. What I remember most clearly about that night is standing back watching as everyone swarmed on Jenna asking question after question about how she was, what it was like, etc etc etc and though I hadn?t seen Jenna in over a year, it was as if I?d had breakfast with her that morning. We were totally and completely in tune.

Those letters had created a profound intimacy between us that was entirely different than anything we might have shared face-to-face. I?ll never forget that feeling or that understanding of how two souls can connect through the written word.

(Gah! I know?I warned you it would come off sounding like tripe).

Anyway, being away from this site for some days as my life on the other side of the screen bursts into full-blown new and different and marvelous and busy and anxiety-inducing and happy and silly and hard and delicious?it?s been hard to come back.

I could do a rant on the US OPEN
--- how much I love Mauresmo and how her outfit was the most perfect tennis ensemble EVER.
---who were those idiots screaming after the ball girl? I wanted to slap them silly.
---how much do I love Richard Gasquet, hmm, then there?s James Blake who ROCKED on Federer last night oh. my. god. didn?t win, but then who could? Federer is unreal.
--what on earth possessed Sharapova to dress like she was heading to a cocktail party, although it wasn?t as bad as the chick who dressed like a shepherd or the one who had a freaking petticoat under her skirt! Holy hell?where are the fug sisters when you really need them?

I could do a dance of joy ala Lord of the Dance that Vincent is gone! gone! gone!

But no. This morning I read Sprinky's post and it captured what I have been wrestling with and gave me some peace.

This site is only one piece of me?it?s never going to be the whole picture any more than someone who is here in my 3-D world gets the whole picture of me?they don?t. We all have our inner and outer worlds (some of us have multiples of both, I?m looking at you Sybil).

All of which is to say. Been away. Been busy. New job forces me to pull over to the side of the road and weep with gratitude, skip down the sidewalk in gratitude, sip my fresh coffee with gratitude, and walk through the fields as the mist lifts off the mountains with gratitude. I am truly, madly, deeply in love with this life and finally feel like I can begin giving back?daily--through my work, which is to set-up and create art encounters and workshops for kids and adults who may not have the means to otherwise have these experiences.

My arms look like the arms of a lifelong junkie from all the pinching I must do to remember I?m awake.

got 2 cents?