Well. Shall we begin again?

Updates seem like silly things. Trying to cram a million moments, changes, and inspirations from months of The Whirlwind into a brief caption of relevant but un-overwhelming type is all but futile, more often than not.

So I'm not going to bore you with an update, except to say: I'm back. Back in Philadelphia, Back in employment, Back with friends, Back in fabulousness, and Back in Gloriosity. And I'm as full of hope as ever.

New Year's was like a jar filled with Christmas lights... coming off the high of a magical December and hurtling headlong and sparkling into a music-filled party at the Crystal Tea Room at the top of Philadelphia's Wannamaker Building. Just me, my Philly-ettes, and 1600 of our nearest and dearest.

After an unutterably wonderful evening (the details of which range from exciting to ridiculous to shocking to lovely to brilliant, and can only be summed up in the quite non-descriptive but ultimately perfectly useful punctuation: [...] - after all, the ellipsis says everything that words can't-) I woke on New Year's morn to find three resolutions nestled in my heart. 1) Start drawing again, because it makes me happy. 2) Start blogging again, because life is too glorious not to share. 3) Accept wonderful things as they come, and don't ask for more. Life, in all it's varied experiences, is meant to be organic. Hope so much, but love to let life happen.

It's good to be back.

Mountains to Conquer.

Off to Vail.

Heading westward to enjoy Bridge Street and the Coffee Shop Hill off of Chair 4. See you later this week.

In the Night

Do you know that everyone who lives in Colorado is a morning person?

I'm convinced that I'm the only person in the shadow of the Rockies who delights in the night and who has perfected the art of rolling back over when the sun begins to push in through my eyelashes.

I drove home tonight singing Brandi Carlile at the top of my lungs

The first sign of morning is gray and alarming

It's so disappointing the day has come so soon

While the rest of the world greets the day and feels new

I will push it away just like I always do, I will be

Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming,

Your real world away

Only beautiful, beautiful bright eyes lie,

Only beautiful, beautiful bright eyes cry,

Singin' late morning lullaby

Late morning lullaby

I would darken my window so I can fall asleep

While the critics frown down on the hours I keep

That leave me

Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming,

Your real world away.

Brandi's got it about right. My darling roommate, tenacious and cheerful, awakes, voluntarily, at 7am every morning. She's off like a rocket, going to the gym, or going to the library, or finding some other productive means of conquering the world.

And she's in bed by 9 most nights.

Whereas I, though possibly stirring before the noontime hour, have a brain that will not function before the digital clock reads "pm". Minor witticisms kick in around 3pm, about the time the sun hits its zenith. Clever arguments and correlations begin to shimmer around dusk. Major circular arguments and triple entendre show their charming faces when the sun has gone to bed. And when the moon, however brilliant she's feeling, assumes her throne high above my head, that is when the world is alive for me. That is when miracles are possible, and everything is beautiful, and love is not so far away. The Night is my Day.

And so I don't go to bed until 2am. And I think this is a self-perpetuating affliction.

But wait 'till the night has fallen like a black velvet curtain, wait 'till the snowflake swirl down like a glittering mist in the lamplight, wait 'till the boughs hang heavy with white and the glow off the snow makes an eerie wonderland of your bedroom wall, and then play this:

And then tell me you don't believe that night, after all, is the best time of day.

photos: Photobucket.com - thepicklebotinteriors - awake, ThePrincessBlog, Google image - LivebytheSunLovebytheMoon, ShanyaAmaras An attempt to send some sun your way, LCTGloriosity Colorado 2009, weheartit.com

Snow and Sunlight.

Honestly. Despite craving a mad, torrential downpour of epic spring-thunderstorm proportions, I cannot deny the loveliness that's lurking in the Rockies. After all those years living in Philly, this sunshine is simply...well...glorious.

And so is the Night.

Night

Stars over snow,

And in the west a planet

Swinging below a star---

Look for a lovely thing and you will find it,

It is not far---

It never will be far.

--Sara Teasdale

This is Ladies' Night

What a long weekend! Celebrating my cousin Liz's bachelorette with her nearest and dearest was full of frenzy and fun! Never one to sit and let life pass her by, Liz's dream bachelorette weekend consisted of dancing, partying, and plenty of the great outdoors. But most of all, it was full of

After a night on the town in Vail (where we used our feminine wiles to end up on stage at what seemed like a multi-generational frat party, but what the girls assured me was a normal weekend in a ski town) we rallied on Saturday to conquer the snows. Some hit the slopes, some hit the tracks, and some hit the trails. Including Dixie.

(general note: the aspens in Vail were more upright than the men.

At least this weekend.)

Hiking segued into frantic preparation. Aspen awaited us!

Arriving in Aspen, we found, to our delight, that the "Sequins Weekend" memo had preceded us. Fireworks greeted us.

As a precursor to the evening, the most fantastic fireworks display (as seen from directly outside a magnificent log-cabin-slash-mansion) set the tone.

The sun was down, the sequins were on, and the girls went out. We took the party to The Regal and danced, danced, danced.

Needless to say, the morning after required several stops for sustenance and caffeine...

I found Simba and Mufasa patiently waiting until I can afford to post them outside my apartment.

And Dior put my next purchase in the window. The plan is to somehow acquire this snowsuit, pick my mark on the Aspen mountains, "accidently" careen into a rugged-and-yet-dashing older gentleman (of which Aspen seems to have an ample supply) and commence my life as the kind of girl who can shop in Aspen, instead of the kind of girl who thinks she's tumbled Alice-in-Wonderland-like into the pages of Harper's Bazaar.

The weekend in picture form. Lots of sparkle, and lots of love.

After Aspen, the dregs of the group headed for Avalanche Ranch outside Carbondale. The light on the peaks was lovely.

And breakfast the next morning was naturally delicious.

And rather lovely.

The Ranch supplied countless photo ops, from the rustic interiors,

to the rustic exteriors, and of course, the friendly Golden pup.

Thank you for breakfast, and for my wake-up call.

Farewell, weekend getaway. Farewell, delightful ladies. See you all in July for what is sure to be a glorious, glorious wedding.

Photos: All photos LCTGloriosity

Auld Lang Syne.

Just a smattering of New Year's Eve Photos from my Epic Week in Vail. Here's hoping fun times like that don't come just once in a Blue Moon...

2010: The Year of Being Care Free.

Photos: GloriosityLCT Vail Trip 2009/2010

Snow...

It's falling outside, a new blanket of sparkling white to overlay the frosty remnants of what fell earlier this week. I haven't seen snow this often in my life, and it's beautiful. Needless to say, it puts you in the mood for the holiday season, and I find myself singing...

Bing Crosby's and Rosemary Clooney's voices, Vera Ellen's grace, and Danny Kaye's smile just make it feel like Christmas.

Snow stifles the frazzle, and leaves the world quiet, pensive, and oh so lovely.

It can be a little glamorous, a little sparkly, a little all-dressed-up,

or quietly magical;

nature's chance to play dress-up in the winter months,

or to change your architectural details.

You start to look at the world differently,

and you can't help but feel like a kid again.

Most of all, I love how the nights become magic. Snow flurries whisper at your window - or are they snow fairies? Street lamps become elaborate gobos and stage setters for the mundane parking lot that has transformed into a fantasy world, clean and sharp and bright. And somewhere in the stillness, your heart waits for you.

photos: RosieHardy at vi.sualize.us (i love this picture!!), LCTGloriosityColorado09, Fashion Image found online (whose is this?), Leaca at vi.sualize.us, LCTGloriosityPhiladelphia09, LCTGloriosityColorado09, MartaCernicka at photo.net, Kent Miles - English Gardens 1981 (Gorgeous!), yein~ at vi.sualize.us.

Anticipation.

It's coming..

I've always been a person who's enjoyed anticipation just as much as apotheosis. I have an inkling that this may have something to do with being Catholic. There's the pervading idea that you have to work hard to follow the Truth in the here and now because what's coming in the hereafter is truly divine (in all senses of the word) but there's little you can know or do about it. So, having faith that whatever is going to happen is going to happen, we focus on what we can get our hands on right now. Reaching out, serving others, opening our hearts, appreciating the human reality in the context of the Divine.

That idea is echoed in the Liturgical seasons; simply put: Advent is longer than Christmas.

And while I, too, can't wait to come skittering out to the den on Christmas morning with my brothers, all three of us well and truly grown but willingly and exuberantly channelling the joys of childhood while dad grins and mom smiles with that look that says, 'O, it's so good to have them home again,' right now, I really just can't wait for Advent.

Is that strange?

There's something about the season of candles, of the chill in the air that makes us bundle up. Our thoughts turn to our hearts, willing them to circulate the blood more efficiently to our fingers and toes, and to our Hearts, examining what lies within them, and what needs to be changed (and quick! for St. Nick!). I'm powerless when the haunting melodies of "Wait for the Lord," or "O Come, O Come Emmanuel" begin to play. When you sing in harmony on a minor chord, you feel the anticipation, physically. While you tiptoe on the suspension, drawing out the depth of the music, everything strains for the resolution chord, for the finish. And when you arrive, it's always softer than you expected, but resonates deeper than you could have imagined. What is it about music that can sweep you away to places you never know you held within you?

While our commodified tendencies scramble for gifts and decorations, whatever it is in us that recognizes a greater, overarching human-and-divine connection sees in the scramble the finer notes of preparation. We purchase gifts for those we love, not to prove our love, but to show our love. When you select the perfect cookbook for your friend back east, you smile and send happy thoughts her way. When you begin binding the leftover fir bows to make the front door wreath, you think of all the guests who will visit with smiles and laughter and joy.

It's a time when we begin to remember what it's like to open our hearts, when we remember what it is to love and be loved, when, overcome with great expectation, we recognize the similarities in the human condition. No matter what we believe in, we all strive to be better, we all strive to find happiness, we all find it more easily when we open our hearts. We all love.

October's Winter Wonderland.

It's been snowing a bit in Boulder, which has afforded several little glimpses into fairyland from my balcony door. Above is a shot from last night, when the streetlight lit up the trees. Below is one of those marvelous natural black and white's.
I love the blue sky that holds the light when the snow is still coming down at night. Isn't it unearthly?
And here's a shot of the balcony this morning - I don't know how that happened, but I think it's pretty awesome.
Photos: LCT Boulder 2009