In between the between... (2nd ed.)

Preface to the 2nd ed: We acknowledge that the poem before a book is an epigraph.

Well, some things don't change. When something hurts, my favorite place to come and spend some time is writing here. Someday I'll write seven drafts of a thing that will be published in a book. Till then, I'll fiddle through three drafts and hit "Publish Post."

So I haven't made any changes to the blog yet. Right now I'm like one of those plate spinners on the old Ed Sullivan show, trying to balance as many things as I can.*** Or as another friend put it, I have the Columbo syndrome, "Just one more thing!" (Or as I quipped to her when we met by chance in the library lobby, I need some cheese with my whine.)

As I think about friends in need, (an English teacher would say, did you introduce this idea?) I tend to first think of what book I'd recommend. It's called bibliotherapy and folks have differing views on the topic. I often blurt out "have you read such and such" when really what the person was hoping for was a little sympathy. Such. a. librarian. I had a conversation once with a friend and her husband and she said to him, "You do that too, I think it's so you don't have to say something, you can just recommend a book and be done with it." And after that conversation I thought some more on that topic. And while there might be some truth there, it's also the being-ness of me. I purvey books for a living. So if you're hurting, I'm going to try to find the book that fits, just as a baker will try to make the best cake, or a doctor will try to prescribe the right antibiotic.

Recently some friends had to give back a child they had been caring for in foster care. Everyone had fallen in love with the child, their whole family, our whole church. I wanted to give them a copy of The Great Gilly Hopkins, about a foster child who goes to live with her grandmother after she fantasizes about her mother and how wonderful life will be when her mother comes to get her. No, maybe that's not the right book. But Baby, by Patricia MacLachlan, where a family finds a baby with a note, a la Paddington Bear (Please take care of this bear) but also, "I will come back for her one day. I love her." This book is so near and dear to my heart, with an excerpt from Edna St. Vincent Millay's "Dirge without music" in the front matter.* The family in the book has lost a baby (they're called Angel Babies**) and somehow taking care of Sophie (the baby entrusted to them) helps to heal that wound, allows them to talk about memories.

I'm sure I have more to write, but I keep getting interrupted by "what time is it?" and "My library card is blocked" and "Do you have the fourth book in the Dolphin Diaries series?" and the top question of the night, "Can you put a book on hold?"

*********

Some other thoughts: I long for the days when I shelved and stocked my sections at Fox Books. I knew where every book was on the shelf, because I'd put it there, or I'd ordered it for a display. I HATE that I have to look up Dolphin Diaries, that I failed in recommending an adventure book to a dad and son, that I can't just walk over to the shelf and pick off a book, "here, take this one." I watch patrons grow up before my eyes, but there are so many (we are a large library) and I don't have relationships with them. Part of that is my fault, (I don't remember their names, go up to them, say, how's it going.) But part of it is the anonymity you have at large places. I long for a small place.

This week was a week of many losses. One of the smaller losses was that I didn't get a job (not Queens, something closer, something that would have kept me in da Burgh for a while at least.) And that job would have been one where I would have been able to forge a very close relationship with my collection. And my patrons.

But as I try to tie this post together, (where is the conclusion?? asks the inner English teacher) I am reminded of one of my favorite poems, one by Edna St. Vincent Millay.

Childhood Is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies

Childhood is not from birth to a certain age and at a certain age
The child is grown, and puts away childish things.
Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies.

Nobody that matters, that is. Distant relatives of course
Die, whom one never has seen, or has seen for an hour,
And they gave one candy in a pink-and-green striped bag, or a jack-knife,
And went away, and cannot really be said to have lived at all.

And cats die. They lie on the floor and lash their tails,
And their reticent fur is suddenly all in motion
With fleas that one never knew were there,
Polished and brown, knowing all there is to know,
Trekking off into the living world.
You fetch a shoe-box, but it's much too small, because she won't curl up now:
So you find a bigger box, and bury her in the yard, and weep.

But you do not wake up a month from then, two months,
A year from then, two years, in the middle of the night
And weep, with your knuckles in your mouth, and say
Oh God! Oh God!
Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies that matters,
--mothers and fathers don't die.

And if you have ever said, "For heaven's sake, must you always be kissing a person?"
Or, "I do wish to gracious you'd stop tapping on the window with your thimble!"
Tomorrow, or even the day after tomorrow if you're busy having fun,
Is plenty of time to say, "I'm sorry, mother."

To be grown up is to sit at the table with people who have died, who neither listen nor speak;
Who do not drink their tea, though they always said
Tea was such a comfort.

Run down into the cellar and bring up the last jar of raspberries; they are not tempted.
Flatter them, ask them what was it they said exactly
That time, to the bishop, or to the overseer, or to Mrs. Mason;
They are not taken in.
Shout at them, get red in the face, rise,
Drag them up out of their chairs by their stiff shoulders and shake them and yell at them;
They are not startled, they are not even embarrassed;
they slide back into their chairs.

Your tea is cold now.
You drink it standing up,
And leave the house.

Okay, so the library is about to close. Thank you, dear blog, for helping me work through some thoughts...and dear reader, yes, ch-ch-changes are coming, but not yet. Right now, I need to take the plate in front of me, and only that plate.

Yours till Niagara Falls,

Sarah Louise
___________
*if there is a name for a poem excerpt at the front of a book, let me know. Google is NOT cooperating. What kind of librarian am I anyways? (I just tweeted it.) Thank you to Cuileanne--it is an epigraph.
**this links to a post I wrote about my two siblings that were (are?) Angel Babies, Joy and Peter.
***(Stuffed Animal Sleepover, my Mom coming to town, Church Basement Roadshow, Monarchs @ your library, a new car, saying goodbye to Lucy-the-Honda.)

And yes, I know that in the up down of this blog, the footnote with three asterisks comes first, but I wrote it last, so there!

I'm working on something longer...

And I'm thinking about housekeeping. You know, this blog needs a facelift, or something. So stay tuned. And if you're bored, go read my archives. You'll see I used to be a LOT funnier. Or something.

x's and o's,

SL

Applebees didn't pay me to write this post...a few open letters

Dear Applebees,

OMG! I drink a lot of iced tea, year round. And I have not had iced tea that good in a very long time. I must have the recipe...

Also, you had me at hello when the bathroom stall had a purse hook (what is it with bathroom stalls these days? Did a hook pirate come and steal them all??)

THEN, there was a door to the outdoors right by the ladies room, such that I didn't have to go back to the front where throngs were waiting with their dates for tables.

I'll be back. For the tea.

Yours,

SL

**********

Dear Pittsburgh,

You have stolen my heart. You know that, right? They say TCK's are of two kinds--one kind spreads shallow roots all over the place. A big wind, and they move to the next place, like a tumbleweed. Then there are the "me" type--we grow a tap root that goes all the way down. So here's the thing. You have offered up some opportunities. I need one of them to come through. You know that I will want again to be closer to family, and you may someday have to concede to my love for the beach. But for now, you are playing all your cards, with community, mentors, friends, and your trump card, geography. You know that I love that there are five ways to get to any one place. You know that I love walking mornings in Highland Park. You know that I hate moving. You might win this time. I might let you. Do me a favor, though? Start working on getting me a better paying job, and start looking for a beau. I like them tall and Christian. I don't need it to be right now (you know I have enough going on right now) but you know, in the next decade or so...

Yours, till Niagara Falls,

SL

***********

Dear body,

WHY? Do I not feed you well? That you must betray me monthly with the aches that remind me I could be making babies? Isn't there an on/off button? I'm not interested in having babies right now, can we dispense with the pain? PLE-ASE??? You know what I'm talking about.

I'm watching you...

SL, who is allergic to Advil, Pamprin, and all NSAIDS, including Aspirin.

*************

And one last peeve.

I don't know how to make it into an open letter. I am grateful for people who have THEIR picture as their Facebook profile. Hey, if you have a kid, sure, have a picture of the child in your profile picture. But don't put THEIR picture as your profile picture--are you them? Are they you? And what is the deal with wedding pictures? I'm glad you got married. But I don't really need to see your wedding dress every time I pull up your profile.

Signed,

A trying-so-very-hard
and-not-succeeding-to-not-be-peevish
single-childless-36-year-old woman.

*************

A woman at work this week said, that Sarah Louise, I've never seen her get upset at anyone. Humph, I giggled inside. She doesn't know me well enough. But it's nice to be thought of nicely.

Okay, I think I'm done being snarky. Here's a story about butterflies, and when I let them go yesterday at the Picture Book Picnic (our library's summer storytime.)

We set free our five Painted Lady butterflies yesterday. I did a storytime with The Very Hungry Caterpillar, The Relatives came (love Cynthia Rylant), First the Egg, and Waiting for Wings (Ehlert, very good factual info at end about butterflies). At the end, I opened the house and three went right away. The fourth one had to be coaxed, and the fifth wanted to stay on the flower we had in the house, so I lifted the flower out and it finally flew. We didn't take pictures, but it was one of those moments that you really couldn't capture on film. I will never forget it, and I bet the kids that huddled around me won't forget it, either.

Go hug someone. Or a pillow. Smile, it makes people wonder what you're up to. And I'll be here all week. (And all weekend--I have tomorrow OFF!)

Pleasant words are like a honeycomb...

(Proverbs 16:24)

It's amazing what joining a small group (women's Bible study) has done for me. I've been to a Pirate's game, attended part of a murder mystery party, and by not going on Monday, someone wrote on my FB wall saying, "we missed you." And someone else got me on G-chat just as I was shutting my computer off at work last night. And my picture has been featured in two FB albums (and I have pictures I have to post...)

And as I bite my nails over the latest "what if?," another opportunity, which looks pretty good too, shows up. I think the universe is telling me to lighten up.

And if all else fails, starting in September, I'll up my work hours to 40/week (from a current 35) and that will be my car payment. I talk to Dad tonight.

On my walk, I realized I still am such a baby blogger. I'm still trying to figure out who I am, where I am, and what this blog is.

But hey, look at the time! If I'm getting a shower, I gotta go.

More better writing later, I promise. Oooh, and maybe pictures. Kiki and I are neck to neck on kitchen beautifying. I have the easier task (do the dishes). She's painting hers. Oi.

Have just started Love me Tender. Really gotta go now.

****

Thanks to Helen, here is another post about using [pleasant] words, by Susan Estrich. I especially like this bit: As my friend Jack used to say, 90 percent of life is just showing up. In hard times, it's probably closer to 99 percent.

In which SL is a big baby.....

So, instead of marching across the street with the muffin, I have spent the morning feeling sorry for myself. Yuk.

And now it's time to get ready for work.

I'm severely lacking in courage.

Fruit and a muffin

You know, I can't remember if I mentioned that Immodium and Gatorade were my companions this weekend. But Monday, I was brave enough to order quiche at Gullifties. I didn't know it came with fresh fruit and a BRAN muffin, or I would have refused them. On the way home, I heard (the inaudible voice of the nudge that isn't me that I should take these to Mini, my Italian neighbor.) I was going to be late for my dr. appointment if I did, so I didn't. And wouldn't you know, that when I got to my appointment, I had to wait.

On Sunday, BJ shared a story from Molly, about sharing a muffin with a woman at Panera. I am too tired to replicate it here, but it was pretty similar in type to the Beth Moore story found here. Beth sees a man with uncombed hair and the nudge that isn't us nudged her to talk to him, to ask if she could comb his hair. It is a beautiful story.

I have no idea if the fruit is still palatable after spending an evening in my fridge...

Reason #1,269 why I adore my church...

So if you've been here awhile, you know I'm at the moment ambivalent about having babies. Which, since I don't have a husband, I think is okay. But I must say, tonight, for the first time in a very long time, I enjoyed all the babies at church. I played peek-a-boo with Mike, I watched Si while his mom went to take communion, and I grinned at them as they grinned at me. They hugged my legs.

Then the scriptures: Isaiah 40 is a chapter I know almost by heart, it is full of beautiful imagery about a God that comforts and people that can be resilient. Matthew 28 is one of the "Do not be afraid" stories, and BJ used that as a starting point for an amazing sermon on how God is always reminding us of how he took care of us last time. (She hits her head, of course!)

I sat in the "crying room" for most of church, most of the time curled in one of the Queen Ann armchairs, but uncurled myself to take notes once he got into the meat of the sermon. Afterwards, everyone said they liked my new hair cut, and I got to meet a new family and talk to BJ and some other folks. It is so good to share burdens--not complaining, but saying, I am having a hard time. And the other person says, yes, me too. And you both go away, lighter, because you know you're not the only one and you know that your story has helped lift that person, just as their story helped to lift you.

It's like the story of the king and his three sons. Make the journey shorter, said the king, and you'll inherit my kingdom. The first two sons failed. I think maybe the first son recommended a new GPS system, the second son lent him a chariot. The third son said, "I'll walk with you and tell you a story." (Guess which son got the inheritance?)

It amazes me how eating has been so unimportant this weekend--I've only eaten to make sure I get three meals and b/c I take meds and my meds work better with food in the stomach. I didn't even eat half of my Mediterranean Nachos at the SE. But sleep? I got up early and then got back in bed and napped. All afternoon, I had SATC DVDs on, sort of watching them, whilst I purged paper and stuff from my closet. (I liberated 4 laundry baskets, baby!) (Laundry baskets are how I manage clutter.) (I do have to do actual clothing laundry soon, though.) I took a nap at 4 and thought I might sleep through church at six, but I woke up at 10 till. So I took a quick shower.

I'll go sleep some more soon. I don't think we'll be reducing my antidepressants when I see my psychiatrist tomorrow...

Am I allergic to Saturday?

So, um, I am under extreme stress. So much so, that for the past two Fridays, I have dreaded going to work, knowing I would be working the next day. And the next day (the past two Saturdays, well, including today) I have left work early.

Last night watched Lars and the Real Girl. Wow. What a great movie.

My mother sends text messages now! Bird and I love it! The 'rents are in Texas right now, visiting bro. Well, the visiting part is over now, they're going to San Antonio? and then back home on Wednesday.

Well, that's it. I wanted to just update, since my last post was Tues.

Off to get something bland for dinner, which means going out into the heat. I am so NOT a summer person.

Gosh, this is a depressing post. But I'll hit publish anyways. Cuz yins are my community too.

Okay a few things I love so that this is not a complete downer:

• I love that culieann loves poetry.
• I love Twitter.
• I love my online friends.
• I love Kiki--I'll post the picture of the pot she made me soon. My kitchen is back in complete disarray.
• I love Bird (my sister). She and I talked for maybe 45 min last night.
• I love Google Reader.

I finished Garden Spells last night.

ttfn,

SL

"You are never too old to dream a new dream..."

(C.S. Lewis)

Well, this morning one of the tweets that I followed through to a link was Amy's rules of blogging: "remember that everything you post is public. hell, it's global."

So keeping that in mind, I'm not going to talk about the newest development, yet. (I'll just keep you in suspense...) But seriously, if you know me, and I haven't emailed you, (sorry!) email me and I'll tell you.

So I'm changing the subject. A Facebook conversation this morning made me think of libraries and childhood memories. My friend remembered that the bookmobile she went to was exciting because she could climb the steps and she picked out the thickest book.

My first memory (besides the fuzzy preschool memories of going to see the Seven Chinese Brothers as a movie) of a library was the discovery (in 2nd grade) that my last name didn't fit on those cards where you had to write your name. That was the day I learned my last name had eleven letters. My other memories were of the school library at American School of Tegucigalpa, where I had free reign of the library. It was an older collection, so they had ALL of Marguerite D'Angeli's books, and I think I was the only person on the card for Julie (Andrews) Edward's Mandy. I could only take out two books at a time, so voracious reader that I was, I was at the library almost every day to get more.

Well, I also remember that the library was flooded the year I was in first grade, as the Rhine river rose that Spring. But I didn't read until 2nd grade, so the library was just the place we went to watch "Free to Be You and Me." I can't remember why the two libraries were different, as they were both for the American School of Bonn, but maybe the flooding had something to do with it.

I'm wearing my pink heels as I sit here, not yet dressed for the day. As a children's librarian, I generally wear "nice" flip flops or sneakers all summer, and nylons? Are you joking? So I really only have one nice pair of summer shoes, and they are heels. I've worn them one time in public, at Terzo's christening, which was two? years ago? I don't generally wear heels, because have you met me? I'm tall enough, at 5'9". (This could all be preparation for the wedding I'm going to in August, you know...)

And no, the comment box is NOT for guessing what the H-E-double-hockey sticks I'm talking about. Email me.

What childhood memories do you have of libraries? Did you go to a building or a bookmobile? Was your first library a school library or a public library?

Were all the librarians ladies? The first male librarian I met was in 6th grade. He was married to one of the 6th grade teachers. I don't think I met another male librarian until...I don't remember. I was never one to ask questions as a child, I was a poke and find out myself, so I don't really remember librarians, just the libraries.

Tawk amongst yourselves. I've gotta go procure some nylons.

Some stuff for a Sunday morning...

Why is it that my bizarro dreams always feature the school I attended the first two years of my college career and never the one I matriculated from? Will I forever be obsessed with Oakland at Fifth and Halket? I swear, I can count on probably a whole hand the amount of dreams I STILL REMEMBER BITS OF that feature a pretend Oakland in the city of Pittsburgh. Ai.

We are getting rid of the sofa today. No one wants it, (yes, I offered it up on Freecycle) which is totally fine. It has lived out a longer life than anyone else would have ever given it, I'm sure--it was free to me when my roommate married Evan in 1995. It was his roommate's I think. When I mentioned it to him the last time he helped me with my car, he had no recollection of it. That tells you something. It is butt-ugly, and the sofa bed doesn't sleep very well. It slept my sister Bird and her best friend when they came out for the U2 concert in 2005. It is the home of too many make out sessions with too many ex-boyfriends.

However, I will miss it. I have one picture of it, I wonder if I can dredge it up. I remember it was a "show and tell." Poppy wanted to see our least favorite piece of furniture. Blackbird remarked, it's the ugliest but it's your favorite? Well, I won't recreate the entire comment-versation, you can click on the link yourself. (Yes, which features the one picture.)

Furniture--come to think of it, There is only one piece of furniture in this room that I bought retail: the desk the computer is on. I got it from Ikea, and EE Sally helped me put it together. Which makes me giggle a little bit. The Q. job says it will help with relocation costs. Do all starting out librarians have furniture they got at second hand shops or off the curb? The thing of it is, I love each piece. Since I'm "head of household" I make all the choices. It is too small of an apartment for me to consider anything I wouldn't like. Plus, you know, the whole third floor walk up scenario. Ai.

I'm actually doing church 2x today--once in the morning at Bellefield to catch up with a guy I was in choir with ages ago (he and fam are coming into town, he found me on FB.) Which just goes to show you the power of FB.

Oh, yes. Freecycle. That was the other funny thing I was going to tell you. Friday was 7/11, as in the seventh month, the eleventh day. Apparently the store 7-11 has made it "Slurpee Day" and they give away free Slurpees. I emailed Babs and both siblings. When I told Sally later (she came to give me my latest furniture acquisition, a new to me kitchen table that she got off the curb in the 90s when her hubby was in grad school) she was crushed (you know, as in crushed ice? Oh never mind) that she hadn't known. But I offered her a Wylie's Italian ice, and she perked up.

Right, my brain did another cul de sac. So on Freecycle, this morning, as I'm deleting the 190 messages from over the weekend in my "Freecycle" folder, I see one for "Taken: 7-11 Slurpee machine." Isn't that just poetic justice? I didn't pull up the email to see the date/time stamp, but I bet at least part of it went down on 7/11.

Oh, and how did I find out it was Slurpee day? Dear old Twitter. I've been having more fun on Twitter than any "social media" I use. A post on that is forthcoming.

I probably should think about breakfast or something...

You never know what you'll find when you talk a walk on the web...

(or surfing, whatever. But for the title, walk on the web seemed more alliterative.)

I've had some new followees on Twitter and one of them posted this video.



What I love about it, besides the sheer joy of it, is that it shows Warsaw, Poland and then Austin, Texas--my brother used to live in Warsaw and NOW lives in Texas. It also showed Sao Paolo, Brazil, where my grandmother taught right after she graduated from Bucknell in the 1920s. I'm sure he has other shots from Brazil (it's a big country). I also love the ones where it's raining. The India one is the only one where he dances the way other folks (the ladies) are dancing. This video goes from him alone to him with people to him alone. I saw him on the Today show when he did one live from some African location, and the children were dancing with him. Oh, it also shows Cologne, Germany. My dad worked there when we lived in Bonn.

It makes me happy too.

Brain won't shut off...

At the end of the exhausting day I trudged up to my car, calling Sally to see if we were on for Friday (I'm making her dinner that involves shrimp) and she invited me over for pizza and the current NetFlix, Howl something. You better believe I took her up on that one! After which, I chatted with her and her DH. Her DH just joined Facebook today. So I gave both of them pointers. They're now married on FB. Twas fun(ny). They are 5 and 6 years older than me and that's not much, but since they have three kids I often think of them as much older, not more like my contemporaries, my peers.

Then Sally and I chatted whilst she folded laundry. My eyes were getting scratchy, as I now take my allergy meds in the evening and they were wearing off. (Sally has a cat.) So I left, and as I did, Sally mentioned a mechanic that might be able to assess if my car is worth fixing up to inspection standards. Oh good. Take one step. And one more.

Then, because it takes a half hour to get home and it was almost 9:30, I called my folks on the cell before I gassed up at $3.96 (which is like $50/tank, yeesh!). I had a chance to mention Aunt Margaret's table to my mom, it needs to be fixed and it doesn't serve my purpose so Sally is giving me a table she's getting rid of Friday (that's where the shrimp and dinner fits in.) I said, I don't know how attached you are to the table, but I wanted to put out there that it's not fitting my purposes right now (and really hasn't for years, I didn't add.) It is a lovely table that would make someone very happy. Until we figure out what to do, it will live in the foyer, where there is room for it and it will look pretty.

Meantime, I'm also working on getting the pull out bed (sofa/couch/davenport/what-have-you) out of the apartment, which involves muscles from church, me paying in beer, and maybe someone from Freecycle taking it. But I'm not sanguine, as none of the sofas offered in the past coupla days have been taken, and a sofa-bed was offered three days ago, not taken.

Also, my landlord is listing the 2nd floor apartment! They only moved in in March...I didn't comment on that short amount of time when he asked me to list it on the neighborhood list-serv, as I might have a similar announcement someday in the near to far future.

On the way to work today, I thought, I am going through a transition. Even if in February 2009 I am still driving Lucy along Rte. 8 to work, this summer is big stuff, me admitting that I'm LOOKING (and not for a man). That I'm changing some things up in my apartment and considering painting and changing flooring. (Have I mentioned that the entire apartment is wall to wall carpet? Yes, the bathroom too.)

So it's no wonder that until just this moment, (yawn) my brain was moving mile a minute and trying to process all that is going on. (Yawn.) (Yawn.)

And totally unrelated, I just peeked in my spam to see if something had bounced and I have at least three emails dated year 38. (1938? or 2038? That's some kind of email time travel...)

Okay, enough blog puttering, off to bed.

As I fade out, Brooks and Dunn, "Put a girl in it" plays on the radio. Grin.

"And then...I turned into a raisin..." (on dreams)

Shoesonwrong, from Twitter.

So I had bad dreams last night. That I was working for a previous boss at my current job and for whatever reason we were hanging out at Marian's apartment instead of the library and there was some Halloween party that I had to orchestrate but I hadn't because I'd been sick and I couldn't stop crying. (In the dream.) I don't think I've ever had a dream where I couldn't stop crying. So I woke up, went to the loo, came back, looked for Max Lucado, couldn't find him, found my Bible, bulging with notebooks I've stuck in as markers. I sighed, looked at my phone, and hit #2 on my speed dial, "MomDad."

They used to be in my phone as "Home," but then I thought, this is my home, this 3rd floor walk up. But I still think of where my parents are as "Home." So Mom answered and I found out that the wedding after the week at the Lake? I'm invited. First I heard. So now I have to decide, in the next three days, before my folks go to visit my brother, Friday. I think I'd like to go because I think it would be a fun wedding. I can't remember the last time I was at a wedding with my sister and she's a fun person to be with. We'll see.

But then my mom had to get off the phone and neither of us were hanging up, it was so silly, and she finally said, "I had a friend and this is what my friend did" and hung up. I'm laughing as I write this.

*******

I listened in on the TCK phone call yesterday--the woman who was the main "guest" made a movie about Army Brats, but so much of the TCK experience translates, whether you were a MK (Missionary Kid) or a Foreign Service Kid (apparently no abbreviation or nickname for that) or a Brat (Army). Interesting, we often have mild cases of Post Traumatic Disorder and often act like the adult children of alcoholics. So I have a lot of books to go and find now, specifically one by Stephanie Pressman, The Narcissistic Family (which, she said, don't let the title turn you off, but any family where the children's welfare isn't priority #1, like when your job moves you around, has these sort of issues.)

But I'm still smiling from playing "who's going to hang up first" with my mom.

Go hug someone. Even if it's a stuffed animal or a pillow--there are too many people dropping these days. Curmudgeon that he was, I'm sure someone loved Jesse Helms and is sad that "Uncle Jesse" is gone.

(I almost deleted that last paragraph, it sounds stilted, and I don't necessarily want the Senator to be a Google hit for this blog, but it's true, so I'm going to hit Publish anyways.)

xo,

SL

I had a friend and this is what my friend did...

Your thirties are for learning the lessons...

angst, learning your lessons, well, sort of the same thing (see earlier post)

Also "I'm an emotional cutter." (why Carrie looked at the Vogue on Valentine's Day of all days.)

I'm learning, in my late thirties, how to be less of an emotional cutter, less of a drama queen. But life makes it really HARD sometimes. For instance, a few days ago, a seriously cute former crush of mine got married. Far far away. A year ago, I might have worn black for weeks. And then yesterday, a seriously cute former crush showed up at a place I happened to be. And mentioned that he'd just seen Emily. In Queens. Well, I knew she was there, and I had been meaning to email her yesterday but didn't get to it. So I emailed her last night, a little brief hello.

A few months ago, it would have taken me AGES to actually pay attention to the "nudge which wasn't me" and just EMAIL her. Luckily the "nudge which wasn't me" was a MEGAPHONE this weekend.

Then, someone I emailed last week and who never responded, actually asked me, "Did I ever respond?" And I smiled. Nope, you didn't. For once I've figured out again that there are some people I just want to be friends with. (Some people who are also 28.)

All of this was churning around as I went to the Sharp Edge by myself for dinner. (Oh, internets, how I needed to be an introvert: TOO MUCH INPUT.) So I tried to read my book but couldn't. And then this is when I figured out why I packed my Bible in my purse. I journaled a couple verses...and then ordered a Mystery Brew.* Because folks, I needed to be sleepy by the end of dinner or I was going to be up all night trying to strategize my next step.

Yes, I went to see SATC-TM again. Because I forgot that Friday was an emotional day for me and I needed company. I bought a watermelon, offered it to some friends, went on a walk, cried the entire time, and decided I needed A MOVIE. In the middle of the movie, my phone, WHICH RARELY RINGS, sang out the theme to SATC. Fortunately. I turned it off, and when I got out of the movie, I had a date to have watermelon with friends. Who then also offered me dinner.

Life is good.

Oh, did I mention I dreampt that I broke up with Max because I was sick (like with a bad cold), bought an engagement ring, and had a wedding but he wasn't there? My sister called him, he showed up, but we were already technically married even though he hadn't been there for the gorgeous ceremony. It was very very bizarre. I'm sure a mishmash of having seen Carrie drop the cell phone so gorgeously for the third time and the far away wedding and possibly the reentry of cute former crush.

Maybe this time around I can act like a 36 year old, non-drama queen and leave out the emotional cutting. Who knows what might happen next?

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*The Sharp Edge is also where a lot of stuff went down with ALL of the people mentioned in this post, but more importantly for you, a Mystery Brew is a beer that you don't know what it is but it's $3. Since I'm cheap and not a discerning beer drinker, it worked.

A little repast, or repost.

Okay, so this is not food for your stomach, or maybe not even your heart. But it's food for my heart, and I'm sharing it with you.

I have been shook to my foundations in the past coupla days. Each day requires more than a 15 minute explanation, but here's the "Twitter version."

Saturday: red gatorade, car seat, three shirts, two library books. one friend, oxyclean, and lunch. (It will make a fun post someday. I'm not completely ready to make that much fun of myself.) It's better in the oral form not the written word.

Sunday: long meandering chat with my daddy, Sunrise (an item on the menu, not the time of day) at Quiet Storm, visit with Babs, no move the sofa...yet. Ice cream.

Monday: a disaster, humble pie, I survived, I love my therapist, I love my friends, my shirts (see Saturday) are okay, joined a new Bible Study. many many children with questions about books.

Today: haven't spoken outloud to a person yet, but have "g-chatted" with Kiki, facebooked with a new friend (from Bible Study), and had a cry. Hormones anyone? Happy Canada Day!

Sunday at church BJ asked us if we had any thoughts on the Holy Spirit, since we've been taking in sermons on the ghost himself since early June. I said I've been learning that the HS has my back. So this morning, when my eyes kept getting drawn to a book I bought at Goodwill ages ago, I took it off the shelf. There was already a marker at my favorite passage, which I posted about a while back. I'll see if I can pull that post, but here's the passage, first:

Our moments of happiness are those when we see a burning light through the bars of our personal prison, when for some amazing reason we look out through the cracks; or perhaps by suffering with someone in charity, we leap out of the prison itself , guided by the Spirit, which has never lost its New Testament talent for walking through brick walls. The grace of God is in my mind shaped like a key, that comes form time to time and unlocks the heavy doors.

(Donald Swann)

There's a poem that reminds me of this passage, in the post I posted on this before. Hold the phone whilst I browse...

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(Well, that was a walk down mem'ry lane. I had no idea I'd posted SO many post on poetry. This comes from a post in the halcyon days of blackbird's Show and Tell and the summer of Loretta's List Friday.)

When I fantacize your kisses it rattles me,
like downing four mugs of coffee in advance of noon,
making me tremble unnervingly through the whole lunch hour.
But your real kisses,
when they come to me,
calm me like half a Valium chased with beer,
so that my convict heart stops banging its cup on the bars--
because the iron door has suddenly shuddered open,
and the guard's waving me out,
waving me out with a smile
after all these years.

(Joseph Hutchinson) (I'm assuming my link is the same guy--I have no actual proof.)

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So, since that old post is from June, I am reminded that for me, summer is all about love and love lost. Egads, the mental energy I exude...for me, February has nothing on June, because at least in February EVERYONE else is also angsty.

But it's July now. Um. Anyways.

I think I'm going to go visit Loretta, and then get into the real part of this day which involves clean hair and looking like a Children's librarian.

Would you look at the time??