Mrs. A is a force. Fifteen years ago she went to the Fancy Food Show in San Francisco, a woman with a cooler of homemade salsa, and she was awarded one of the top ten out of eighty thousand participants.

I'm grateful I get to spend the rest of my life telling you how great I think you are. We are bits of sunlight, celebrating source. 

The best classrooms are like cliffs, pushing you to the edge of how you see yourself and the world so you can experience life even more deeply and widely.

I blogged every day for three months. I got the perfect poop. I quit drinking coffee. I lost some weight (not one of the goals, but I bought a belt). I went surfing with Frosty Hesson (or, really, I lay on a board and Frosty pushed me into a gentle swell). All of these things were ways to help me to believe I am valuable; I am safe; I am lovable; I am real.

I was afraid. Worst case, a rogue wave was going to come screaming in from Japan and take me down and under and kill me.

Thank you for sticking with me through this outpouring of Anne.

Yesterday I started out sitting, but after half an hour of brainstorming, I was on the floor, fetalled.

What if the only person you had to please was yourself? What would happen? What would you do? What clothes would you wear? What music would you listen to? What food would you eat? Who would you love? 

I went to the downtown Santa Cruz farmer's market today and had what I think was a perfect nectarine.

Some days are for praying. Some days are for exercising. Some days are for working. Some days are for cleaning. Some days are for eating chocolate. 

I thought about what it meant to deplete myself, how it feels to give myself away and to feel less than because of it.

My friend Janie sent me a song the other day to listen to and i was up until midnight.