than when I've worked myself to utter exhaustion under the trees canopies--hard work, shirt clinging with sweat, not a clean spot on me, even profusely bug bitten, I've known no greater moments of joy. there are things that come damn close--the laugh of a god daughter, the ruffle of hair an affectionate delight, an arrugula salad with a steak medium rare, my dad's eye crinkling twinkle, and that moment were you've taught yourself out of a job because the students catch fire. why working hard, being drenched in sweat and gunk suspended just above the forest floor precariously does this for me, is something I really can't decipher (I've tried). I just know it brings me moments of pure joy. now to figure out how to give myself over to it in a way I can physically and fiscally sustain. alright, get back to the grunge you say you love kathy.
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