Corporeal

When I run more than fifteen or twenty miles a week I spend most of my life famished. It feels nearly impossible to appease my appetite for any appreciable amount of time. Four hours after eating an entire Cafe Rio salad on Saturday, I was ready for another meal. The hunger reminds me that I'm alive.

Zach bought me two bouquets of flowers in honor of finishing the bar exam: two dozen bright pink roses and a multi-colored bouquet of chrysanthemums, daisies, yarrow, and baby's breath. After he left for California (about a half hour after I got home from finishing the bar exam) I spent an hour dividing and arranging them. I have yellow and white flowers in the kitchen, purple and pink chrysanthemums and pink roses in the living room, and red carnations in my bedroom. My house is full of flowers, but only for a week or so until they wilt and I have to gather them up and throw them away.

My sister got in a car accident yesterday, at almost the exact moment that I was leaving the bar exam. It wasn't her fault--a guy was riding a motorcycle really fast (witnesses estimated 70 mph) and passed on a double yellow so she didn't see him as she pulled out of the street. When I saw the picture of her car on the news I freaked out, even though I already knew she was fine. The door behind the driver's door was obliterated. The rear windshield blew out. I couldn't help but think that some idiot (not the nicest thing to think about someone who was life flighted and in critical condition) almost killed my sister.