"Keep Going"

 (a coloring page that I have pinned to my bookcase)

It's 2021, and we're still in the middle of a pandemic. 

I haven't really talked about Covid-19 much on this blog, but here goes. My neighbor below me might have it, as I hear him (her?) coughing in the night and there seems to be a pretty stringent cleaning protocol going on in the halls. At one point, I realized someone was wiping down the outside of my apartment door. 

I have two people close to me that have it: a former neighbor from Pittsburgh, and someone from work. I wasn't sure if I had been exposed, so I quarantined over the Christmas break and took a test on Monday. Thankfully I was negative, but so many aren't that lucky. Omicron numbers are high, and people are saying that Biden has failed at ending the pandemic. 

And yet, life goes on, even if we are crawling through the fog. I do believe there is light at the end of the tunnel. 

But we are still waiting. And the crawling isn't easy. Today my phone devotional in the YouVersion app asked me to reflect on two questions: 

• God, what are you showing me in this waiting?
• How might I reclaim this waiting period for Your glory and the good of others? 

I've been talking about waiting in dating, and last night my friends reminded me that dating is a marathon, not a sprint. But I'm also waiting, with every person on this globe, for this damn pandemic to be over! Yesterday I started to get ready for my virtual story time later in January. (We do storytime on Facebook Live, Tuesday-Thursday at 10:30 EST). Because it will be posted online, I need to look up permissions from publishers to read their works. And while it helps me, it also makes me sad that permissions have now been extended by most publishers to June 30, 2022. That's six months away! Is that to say that we will still be in the pandemic in six months? I mean, ugh. 

And some people, with Long Covid, will be forever waiting for their strength to return, no longer able to run. It's really horrible. 

Last night I cried out to God for a parking space. And asking for that small thing, that He cares about, because He cares about me, prompted my heart to cry out for all the other things on my heart. Funny how it works that way. So there I was, on South 295, radio and GPS blaring, just calling out to God. 

And while I don't claim to have all the answers, my parking spot (after driving around the neighborhood in the dark) was indeed steps away from my final destination. And while I shared bread with my friends (OUTSIDE, socially distanced), they confirmed that enough was enough, I needed to let go of Mr. Saturday night. (see last post.) I needed to date "up." Wait for someone better. This was something I had been holding onto, and I had prayed about it, on 295. 

There's that cough again, coming through the floorboards. It stops me, cold. 

I know that the writing in this post is all over the place and not fleshed out. I know that given time, I could pull so much more out, make the paragraphs flow better, the transitions smoother. But it's 6:08, and I need to hit publish. 

And once again, as I look at the formatting, I realize that it may be time to take this blog to a different platform. I've been on Blogger since 2005! Old habits die hard, but maybe 2022 this blog will be on Word Press. 

"...--or only a story, maybe."

(Anon.)

So. 

I talked to Mr. Saturday Night. It played out so differently in my head. Well, I have another dating story to add to my arsenal. He was cold and distant and I thought, I didn't have THAT great of a time that I need to go out with him again. In some ways, I was following other people's lead. Other people wanted me to give him a second chance. I knew that it wasn't a match, not just a bad date. But I didn't trust myself, I trusted other people who said I should give him a second chance. 

At one point he was mansplaining what he thought I was doing...No. I do not need to text him for a third date. 

I am still learning. 

I am still learning.

I am still learning. 

NEXT! 

The problem with spelling my name: his sister has the same name, spells it a different way.

The reason we didn't walk together: he had to use the bathroom. 

Following the story to its end...

I have decided to give Mr. Saturday Night another chance. We'll talk tonight, because I can't stop thinking about him, and I was just really disappointed about how Saturday went. 

I don't have this memorized, but I knew I'd find it in the blog. 

When I grow tired of my students, as I always do--

staring at their faces till my sockets burn,

I remember one girl told me

how she followed a boyfriend home--

found him in tears--

He rocked on the bed

screamed at her to Get away

So she turned off his light

and closed the door,

and sat on his floor till morning.

When I think of this girl speaking

in her gentle voice with its rough edges

I think how teaching is like crouching sleepless

in a darkened room refusing to get up

knowing nothing will come of this,

--or only a story, maybe.

(Anon., found in Small Victories, by Samuel G. Freedman.)

I am still learning (pt 2)

Okay, here goes. I don't have therapy this week, so I can't talk it over with her. 

Dear (you know your name), 

I was very disappointed at the end of our second date. This seems to be a trend for me, but is unusual to me because since I date so infrequently, I'm pretty selective and only do first dates that become relationships every 5-7 years.

I fell asleep during the movie. I guess you did ask if I didn't like it. I said long day, dark room, which was true. 

We walked for about 30 minutes and the whole time we barely talked, we weren't even walking in concert. 

Ugh. Okay. Your family ran a bookstore mission in West Africa and you thought people needed more life things than pamphlets. It's taken me a day to process that I agree with your disappointment there. 

You've seen a lot of movies during Covid. I guess with social distancing etc that's not horrible. You pointed out that I was more careful. Well, I work in the public and I was living with my parents who were in their late 70s. 

You tried to correlate my love for my young niece/nephew with the fact that I'm a children's librarian? That didn't even make sense! They are my family. 

You didn't seem thrilled about your own family--I kind of want to be with someone who likes their family, but I guess you get what you get and I'm incredibly lucky to have a great family. 

You wanted to split a $12 taxi fare? really? 

You parked in the garage. How bourgeoisies. I was so proud of finding a spot on the street. (Hunting for it did eat up time, but it was time I had to spend.)

I don't know. I just didn't feel like I liked you enough that we could be friends. Anyways, I'm not dating the next two weekends anyways. (Christmas/New Years.) 

Oh, your comment about (redacted) made me think I didn't want to share eventually that I have mental health issues. 

But clearly you have gotten under my skin, so stay tuned. 

"I am still learning"

 (Leonardo da Vinci)

I had this on my bathroom mirror for 20 years. I cling to it, especially at times like these.

I had a ehhh 2nd date last night. After which, I made a point of driving around my neighborhood and looking at the lights. 

Tips for men: if you are walking somewhere, especially for a long time, (2 miles?) walk together. 

We just didn't share the same values. I am much more cautious about Covid (it weeds them out!) and when he talked about extended family it wasn't with tenderness. 

These are things that are not anyone's "fault," they just are. And we're in our fifties, not much is going to change. Our personalities are pretty set. I have to date differently than if I was 25. 

My mother called me and asked me to give him a chance for a 3rd date after I had already sent the "Dear John" text. She shared some of her experience, and I shared mine. We were in concert by the end of the call, always a good outcome. 

I think I'm going to start a notebook. Where I take notes on each guy. It's too easy to just swipe, swipe, swipe, and when I hit the "Like" on Match and have to write something, my mind goes...blank. (Insert gif of Meg Ryan from that movie about bookstores and Tom Hanks.) 

I got about 4 hours of sleep last night. Today we celebrate my brother's last day of being 39, which is to say, he turns 39 on Monday. What a joy. 

Being Alive (take 2)

I HAVE A DATE!!! 

Someone to hold you too close... (Which I highly doubt will happen tomorrow.) 

Yesterday I shared the lunchroom with my coworker Klein, who just got out of a 21 year marriage. So of course he's full of how sacrificial marriage is and how I shouldn't think the grass is greener on the other side. 

I said, you sacrifice things by being alone too. I've never had the teamwork of a long term relationship. I've never created something with someone else. Aside from my parents, I've never shared the burden of housework. I wanted to do this myself. I wanted to make something of myself before I started a relationship, be a Mary Kay director, be an author. But I'm 50 now and none of those things have happened--it's time to couple up. (I did not say any of theses things after the first sentence to Klein.)

No, never been married. No, no children. Lots of life experience, though. 

We're going to see a Wes Anderson film. The last one I went to, I walked out of--just checked the Rotten Tomatoes tomato meter and that movie got better ratings than this one. But I liked the previews better than the other movie he suggested. Well, I didn't even consider the Matrix. I haven't seen a Matrix movie for 20 years?

Listening to the "Company" soundtrack as I write this. It's all about relationships. 

This blog post really has nothing new in it. But I'll hit publish, because it's almost 8 a.m.

Oh, and my therapist said that probably the reason the romance isn't flowing is because men in their fifties who are on Match are probably tired and worn out. 

Being Alive

(Stephen Sondheim, Company)

Dammit, with the Frenchman, I lived a version of a romance novel and now nothing seems as romantic. Plus, I'm not "dating" the last two weekends of the year, so I've stopped swiping on Match. So I have the current guy...who is just a normal guy, and doesn't seem smitten. (But what if he is and I just can't tell because my version is warped?)

I have been spoiled. 

The philosopher pursued me for months. I finally gave in and we had a very interesting year, my longest relationship was almost 25 years ago!!!

Shit. 

Last night he asked me about my blog. I said, it's about me, that's why it's anonymous. I had to correct him on spelling my name. 

I mean, I had to. If we're going to have any kind of future, he has to know it's Sarah, not Sara. (My actual name has so many spellings, but you get the drift.) 

Dammit.

Dammit.

Dammit. 

Yes, that's the post. I see my therapist in less than an hour, on Zoom. 

our souls are restless...

 (Augustine)

It's bedtime. But I have been up, laughing and deciding with my church meeting friends. (Me, I'm an elder, on Session!) We have been looking at how to spend money and whether we should fund the requests before us. We use a "filter." It asks questions like: does this jive with our sense of geography? does this jive with our sense of welcoming the stranger, however hard or easy that is? 

I am listening to quiet Christian music but all my senses are alive. I want to read poetry into the night. I want to fall in love. I want...so many things.

My Ikea chicken sits on my candles that smell like Snickerdoodles, a gift from the woman I said goodbye to with a final text, "I don't want to talk." It seems so long ago. It all seems so long ago. 

I have been in this apartment forever (or six months.) A full liturgical season of ordinary time? Almost all of Advent? It is almost Christmas, so much so that my brother's birthday will be celebrated next Sunday. 

I have a date on Saturday!! A second date!! I'm friends with a guy at work, wise with dreads. (Are dreads wise? I am drunk on tiredness.) He likes this guy for me. I do too, obviously, or I wouldn't be wasting a Saturday on him. Waste is a harsh word. Spend. I wouldn't spend my time and imagination if I didn't enjoy the company of the man I hope to see again on Saturday. 

I have found the little plaque I got at Goodwill ages ago. I keep finding things in this puzzle apartment of mine, boxes still strewn from my May move. Edged in gold-ish leaf, in fancy scrawl, it says "Prayer changes things." I do believe that. 

And on my bookcase, where I can see it when I look up, is a colored page that I didn't color. It says, "Keep Going." I am. Dammit, I'm keeping keeping on. 

Nothing better than you, Lord, nothing is better than you... (my iPhone sings to me.)

I feel like I've been on a long journey of pain and sadness and finally now, "Shame into Glory." "Mourning into Dancing" "Graves into Gardens" "Seas into Highways" "You're the only one who can." (sings my iPhone.)

Nothing, better than you...

"My soul magnifys the Lord"

 (Mary, in the book of Luke 1:46)

It's Joy Sunday once again, and I remember it as the day when my sister Joy was baptised. She would have been 45. 

Yes, she died as a baby, in my parents' arms at Georgetown Hospital. I never met her. Letting my parents hold her as she died was rather revolutionary for the time. 

Over the years, our family has healed from this loss, and from the loss of Peter, who lived and died when I was in 2nd grade (about 3 years after Joy). 

But now we have my sister E and my brother J, who were also born in the Christmas season. My brother arrived kicking and screaming in the 24 days leading up to Christmas (Advent) and my sister arrived in the 12 days of Christmas leading up to Epiphany. (We didn't meet her until March, so I can only assume she was also kicking and screaming--boy did that girl have lungs!!) 

What joys they are to me, and now even to a second generation as I love spending time with my sister's children. I am a doting aunt. 

When we heard that Peter had died, in true second grade fashion, I said, "oh, rats!" I have no memory of this--my memory of memorial services for both Joy and Peter are blotted from my memory and I rely on my parents memories. 

A very special family photo session happened for the Christmas of 1982, when J was a wrinkled baby and B was still small but clearly older. 

Do you have children in your life this Christmas? What traditions will you share with them? Yesterday we put up the Christmas tree with Poppy (one of her nicknames.) Decorating will happen on a different timetable, maybe next weekend? 

I gave her her birthday gift, an "indestructables" story book in English and Spanish, and a sippy cup with a snowman from Target. I took lots of cute pictures that (pout) I can't share. (I totally understand my sister and brother-in-law's policy of not sharing pictures online but I'm a pretty good photographer!! And she's so cute!!)

What else? Oh, I went on a date yesterday, a photo walk in Riverbend Park. The guy I went with, G, had a blast, taking pictures. I took some nice ones, but felt like I was carrying the entire conversation. Afterwards, I came home and took not one but TWO naps. I have a date with a librarian tonight. I'm learning to not give out my phone number unless I feel a spark. I'm learning that it's okay to not have a good date. 

We shared a meal merely because I was STARVED. But he was honored that I took him to the park, and pleased that we shared a meal. He pulled in for a hug as I dropped him at the Metro, and told me which app to download for editing my pictures and that please would I share my pictures with him. I went through my pictures last night and saw that I hated my landscapes, but liked my closeups. I have a certain eye. So the date wasn't a total bust. It got me into nature, I took a bunch of photos I like, and I got a lot of steps. I walked 2.8 miles yesterday!! (Over 7,000 steps!) 

Today my church returns to in person. We did in person over the summer, but weren't prepared to go from outside to inside right away when the weather got cold. I'm in charge of recruiting greeters and we have some for the next two Sundays. (Well, today and next week.) I'm excited to be in our tiny space again, but will miss the hugs that we sneaked while outside. Damn this pandemic. We are learning so much. 

"Add a little pain every day"

 (Libby Mosier)

So...this writing thing. I want to keep doing it. So I have to build endurance. And the only way to build endurance is through practice and adding a little more pain every day. So here I am, second day in a row, with only a small inkling of what to write.

Doors and labyrinths. These were the two themes in my session with my spiritual director yesterday. She read me part of a Jan Richards poem that had doors, and while I was waiting for her to get some water, I did the finger labyrinth that sits on a table in her office. 

There was a movie, years ago, where there were doors all over New York and the thing was to find them to get to the other world. If you know that movie, message me, I really want to watch it again. 

The first thing in my notes from my session yesterday is "I don't know." That that is a healthy posture and one that is open, like a door, to a new place. The next note is "What feels ok?" This is a big question in dating. Do I need to talk to this person before seeing them in person, or do I feel safe? What feels ok is a corollary to "what feels good?" another BIG question in dating. 

The next thing in my notes is "look @ thriving." My director talked a lot about thriving, that the kind of talk I was talking was about thriving. That felt good. 

Let go

Step into

Thriving. 

Because you have to let go of things (old junk mail, old magazines, old trash in your car) to step into thriving. Case in point: yesterday I spent hours just going through old mail, filling the recycling bin. Yesterday I went through my car and found many treasures among the fast food wrappers. Socks, books I bought on my last trip to Pittsburgh...I have 4 days off at MLK weekend. I was thinking to go to Pittsburgh (where else?), and I invited my SIL, but if she can't go, maybe I'll go to Philly!! And visit Libby! Writing literally takes you places!

Faith --> thriving

Just notice. 

Noticing is big. I noticed yesterday that I was able to stay quiet longer, lingering in the quiet, which is something I find very difficult. 

The first time I did a labyrinth was in the basement of Bellefield. I have a poem I wrote about the basement of Bellefield, I wonder where it is. Anyways, now I know of many labyrinths, the herb garden at the Garfield Farm, the cloth labyrinth at East Liberty Presbyterian, the one outside the Lutheran church on Arlington Ridge Rd, and there's one on the land of the church where I go for Spiritual direction. Oh, and the finger labyrinth, which I found a little disappointing because it wasn't a real labyrinth, it didn't go all the way through back to the beginning point. Which I think is the magic of labyrinths. It doesn't look possible that you will get to the middle that way or that you will get back to where you started. 

                                            Photo by Fabrício Severo on Unsplash

We talked about Stephen Sondheim's death and "Being Alive," and how neither of us had seen "Company," the musical that song comes from. 

I think I'll end here. I've run out of things to say. Please go to the link for the lyrics of "Being Alive" if you don't know the song, they are exquisite. 

"These boots were made for walking..."

 (Nancy Sinatra)

12/2/21:

Last week, I had a boyfriend for exactly 7 days. We went on 2 dates, wrote many texts, and had one phone call per day until Thanksgiving, his birthday, where I called him in the morning to surprise him, and after that we had two phone calls per day. 

After the second date, I un-matched on the app, and blocked his phone number, I was so frustrated. Luckily, he found me on WhatsApp to say he realized that I had blocked him and to whimper "I would never block you." I say luckily because in all the ghosting that's been going on, it gave me a chance to get some closure, and to really break up with the words I wanted to say. 

No. I didn't want [redacted]. 

No. I didn't want him to just turn on my TV for background. 

No. I didn't want him to offer once to pay for the meal that I ordered on my computer and not INSIST. (The money isn't the issue, the manners are.)

AND No, I didn't want someone who said one thing and did something else. 

I wanted to eat out, he wanted to eat in, I caved. I wanted pasta, he wanted pizza, I caved. And so I was hating us both by the end of the evening, every time I said no and he didn't listen. I let things go farther than I wanted them to, yes, but I didn't give him a second chance to fool me with a third date. 

I heard something at a wedding this summer that has stayed with me. The pastor said there are three things before the bride today: the aisle, the altar, and him. If she's not careful, she'll carry these things with her into the marriage: "I'll alter him." Boy did that stick with me, because I have tried to change, waited for change, prayed for change. No longer. I am a fifty year old woman, do not cross me. 

Fortunately, there had been a lot of fuss--folks in an online support group thought he was catfishing me. Somewhere in there (when? where?) I got whiff that he might be a narcissist. So I knew what all the red flags were, because I read a million and one internet articles. 

What did I learn? That I do want a relationship. Just not with him, or his type. 

12/10/21 update:

My therapist's take: he's not a narcissist, he's just French. Europeans (and French in particular) have different ideas on dating and sex. Oh--gotcha. Because, yeah. 

He did give me a gift, though. I want to date now. I liked having a boyfriend. So along with going out with girlfriends tonight to dinner and Christmas lights, I'm going on a photo walk tomorrow and dinner at my favorite fast food joint, PANERA. With two different guys!! I don't plan to date the last two weekends of the year (Christmas/NYE) so I'll get it in this weekend! My subscription to Match runs out middle of January, so then I have to decide what to do. 

I was chatting online with this one guy but we were becoming pen pals and he finally cut me loose, that he didn't want to lead me on. Well, his mom just died two weeks ago, so he's not really "available" and I've been there before. I spent six months with a guy whose mom had recently died, about ten years ago. Believe me, it was not fun. (See "aisle alter him," above.)

Also, the new "chapter" of SATC (Sex and the City) has dropped on HBO. All the episodes. I only watched the first one. But boy, did they try to cram EVERYTHING into that one episode. More on that later, maybe. 

Hope is a thing with feathers

 (Emily Dickinson)

So I participated in this thing on Twitter this evening that was sort of between a Zoom and well, Twitter. A woman I follow named Sarah said "Let's hang out at 7 and light a candle." SHE MIGHT DO THIS EVERY WEEK!!

I took copious notes. 

Hope has bloody knuckles from fighting, hope is scrappy, wait, what? Hope is a crow not a sparrow? Crows collect shiny things and hop down the street after voices they recognize...a crow might be menacing but not with God's breath brought into it. Hope and crows are gritty. 

A man with a ripping Scottish accent stayed up really late to be with us, and he said "hope is not wishful thinking, like I hope we have lasagna for dinner." No, hope is not vague, it is assured, we can rely on it. 

Grittiness of hope. 

Folks waited and waited for a Savior. 

1 Cor. 13 (Love chapter) Glimpses, part not whole, LATER: receive it in full. 

Apparently this quote is a meme: "I always come limping into Advent looking for the Light and then I realize the Light came looking for me."

Then there was a riff on community using a boat as a metaphor--we are not tied to a rock, we are a whole crew (and then the metaphor fell apart and I know that preached and tickled my funny bone at the same time, my favorite kind of preach.)

At the end Sarah read Psalm 27 (go read it, so powerful), and Hector prayed us out. 

Wait for the Lord:
Be strong and take heart
And wait for the Lord (Ps. 27:14, NIV)

Friends are friends forever...if the Lord is the Lord of them

(Michael W. Smith) 

But what of those friends who don't know God? Those prodigal friends who come in and out of your life, begging you to lash back when they lash out? She has dumped me again. 

It hurts, because she says words that aren't true, and I cry. Do I let her worm her way back in again? I guess I'll have to see. 

But for now, I have unfollowed her on Facebook (which seems so final) and stopped following her on Instagram. 

Is all this making room for other friends? I've started dating this week. We'll see if he passes muster when l finally meet him in person TODAY. We met on Match.com, and all week have been talking on the phone. 

It took me a while to fall asleep last night, I got up and demolished a bag of nacho chips. Jane (the Virgin, my favorite show) wasn't putting me to sleep so I put on my Girl from Ipanema station on Pandora. I fell asleep quickly after that. (The Benadryl probably helped.) 

Today is busy. I have a show for my side hustle, at 11. I have more cleaning to do, probably. And at 3, I meet my Frenchman. (Yes, he's really from France.) 

As a bipolar woman, I have to watch myself. Romantic relationships can trigger mania. 

Tomorrow I turn 50!! 

It's now my regular wake up time. I have been awake for an hour. It was some bad sleep math, I only got 6 hours of sleep. I thrive on 8 or 9.

But yesterday was a lot. Joy and pain, like sunshine and rain. 

The reality is you will grieve forever...

(Elisabeth Kubler-Ross)

Jessamyn always said blogs should have links. So I'll start there, because I don't know where else to start...

Invisibilia: A Friendly Ghost Story. 

This ghost story is so well told that I missed my stop on the Metro. 

I ghosted someone this summer and I was ghosted. And they are both haunting me. I'm grieving the loss of both friendships. 

Yesterday my therapist laid out the truth: if she wants to reach out, she will. (The friend who ghosted me.) And we also talked about the fact that I needed to say goodbye to my other friend, because it was affecting my mental health.

I've already written about this...but grief isn't just one blog post. Grief comes and goes. Grief is not taking showers for days on end, and letting the dishes pile up. Grief is crying and not being able to cry. Grief is watching Jane the Virgin on end.

Grief is wearing an actual mask every day, but not taking care of the skin underneath it. 

And grief is living in a country where everyone knows someone who died this year, from friends and lovers to parents and so many children's writers and illustrators. 

The rest of the quote in the title from Elisabeth Kubler-Ross? 

"The reality is you will grieve forever. You will not 'get over' the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same nor would you want to."

I'm at a loss for any more of my own words, so I'll share one of my favorite poems:

Childhood is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies

Edna St. Vincent Millay - 1892-1950

• 
• 
• 
• 
• 
• 

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 stripéd 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 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.

Thanks for stopping by. 

The blankiest of blankest pages -- UGH

Since I wrote the title, I have eaten breakfast and taken morning meds. I still feel pretty blank. We're experimenting with Ritalin (fun times!) and so far my experiment (not sanctioned by doctor) of 2 Ritalin was good for attention but crap for sleep. 1.5 Ritalin doesn't seem to do anything. I'm back to drinking leaded coffee instead of half caff. 

In my boredom, a match came up on Match, so I'm exchanging texts. 

Wow, yeah, boredom. Ennui.

I went to Pittsburgh this weekend! And I was so thrilled to go, so thrilled to be there. So I wonder if this blah is the "what goes up must come down" syndrome. 

Going to Pittsburgh is multi-faceted--I love the open road (mostly). (I mean, we all hate bad drivers.) Trucks I can live with, I mean, we NEED trucks. I hate having to rush. I learned this time around that after dark I need to take breaks or it gets dangerous. If I take breaks, I'm good. So I didn't get home until LATE on Sunday. Oh well. At least I didn't feel at any point like I was going to crash. (I had some moments Friday night because my eyes and too much dark for too long...getting OLD.) 

What else? I have ordered a book from a woman who calls her company "Struggle Care." It's all about taking care of your environment and yourself when you feel like crawling back into bed. Stay tuned. 

On the way to Pittsburgh I visited my friend C. She is my only childhood friend--we've known each other since I was in 5th grade. We clash on some issues but mainly agree to disagree because we love each other. It's nice to have a friend like that. WHY DID SHE HAVE TO MOVE AN HOUR AWAY? She lives in West Virginia right now, so we explored Harper's Ferry. 

In Pittsburgh, I went on a walk at my beloved reservoir with my friend Eric. I was in Sue and Eric's wedding 25 years ago!!! Time flies. They have 2 kids at home, 2 out in the world. C is non-binary, so that was new to me, working around "they" as a pronoun. But C has really blossomed since the last time I saw them, pre-pandemic. So that's awesome. My friend Sally and I went to the free pictures at the Frick Art museum. Mostly from the 1400s. (right?!) I don't do art very often with friends, but I always see something new when I do. 

Went to the Open Door on Sunday. The new co-pastor is amazing! She preached on Job, it was amazing! I will link the sermon if possible. (Sometimes they put sermons in their podcast.) I think I took notes...okay, here they are: "Remember that there will be better days." "A God who has been there the whole time." Not a lot to go on, but it was LIT. 

In the afternoon, I learned how Sally's son B is doing (he told me!!) I mean, when a young person just says, hey, this is my life, that is SO SPECIAL. Then I had lunch with an old coworker and found out that my old POW (place of work, not prisoner of war) is under a regime worse than Dolores Umbridge. Yikes. In other news, I have decided to stay where I am, (aka I cancelled next week's interview) because starting over makes me want to hurl and doesn't make sense financially. I have it pretty good. 

Well, I have to leave soon-ish. 

MTC,

Sary Lou

It's always darkest before the dawn (Thomas Fuller, theologian)

I am forever learning about myself. Some things I have to re-learn, somethings I learn in pieces until it hits me, WHAM.

Recently I put together this about myself: when I get a low-grade something (common cold, depression) it seems to last forever. When I get it hard, it usually corrects quickly. 

(I am not a doctor or scientist. This is just what I have observed about me, by living in my body.)

This happened recently with some depression. I was seesawing up and down for a couple of weeks and then boom, the twentieth anniversary of 9/11 happened and I was a MESS.

Don't want to get out of bed, don't want to shower, don't want to eat MESS. I made it to work, I made it to church on Sunday (albeit late). And I was real with people. People asked me how are you doing and I told them. 

And then last night, I decided to just go to bed. At 8. I did brush my teeth, and I did fall asleep quickly. I woke up at 5:38 a.m. feeling decent!! I lollygagged in bed until my alarm went off at 7, and I WANTED to take a shower! Which I did. 

But like any illness, it's like getting your sea legs back. You feel that burst of health but you've been sick so long that some things have atrophied, so you forget your laptop at home, and you forget you were going to install a StoryWalk® in the front windows and the short dress you decided to wear is not an "installing" kind of dress. Fortunately, I always remember what an old boss at Fox Books said, "There is no such thing as a book emergency." I'll wear pants on Thursday (I'm out of the building tomorrow) and install it then. 

I had a "Defend Yourself" training today and WHOA was that a bit overwhelming. But I made it through the two hours of Zoom. Trainings like this are not Zoom friendly, but whatever, it's the world we live in right now. Fortunately I am home for the second training tomorrow (still on Zoom). This will give me a bit of a break. 

One of my blogging friends used to sign off every time with mtc, so I might start doing it too!

MTC! (which means "More to come.")

xo,

SaryLou

When your Burger place has a power outage...

 ...you sit in the parking lot panicking, because nothing else in the strip mall is open at 8:30 and you need dinner. You open Google maps and finally find a place called Burger 7. 

Do not go to Burger 7! OH MY GOODNESS!! I would have rather had gone to McDonalds. At least they have desserts. (I'm not talking about overpriced shakes.)

Everything was overcooked and I had a piece of gristle stuck between my teeth all the way home. At my burger place (BGR at Spout Run), they know my order, they have cheddar cheese, and they are happy to be at work. That's the difference between a small business and a chain. 

I'm reading a Christian Chick Lit book right now. The Christian part is that one of the heroes in the love triangle had a Bible with him because he was putting together a Bible study for his men's group. It's pretty cheesy fluff. 

But sometimes you need cheesy fluff. Like when you get a really nice rejection email. Yeah. I went for a manager position and didn't get it. Blech. 

So after my horrible burger I came home to my CVS, got a pint of chocolate Haagen Daaz, and watched some TV while texting my sister. 

I was up super late. Which meant I slept in. I woke up to a text from my mom, so I'm taking a vacation hour today to soothe my wild child niece who will be desperate when "Mommy" (my sister) leaves for her anniversary date. My sister has been married 10 years!!! 

Yesterday...

Yesterday I picked up a table from the curb. I carried it home. It's the spitting image of a pink table I had in Pittsburgh, except it's blonde. 

Yesterday I found a profile on Match that I liked. I couldn't think of anything interesting to say, so I asked him what he meant by "no pen pals." He didn't like me back. 

Yesterday I made a flamingo at work. It was creative and made the quiet morning hours go more quickly. I sewed it using pink and yellow felt, and gave it hot pink legs and a sticker eye. 

Yesterday I finally decided to add weeding to my list. This is when you go through old books and decide what needs to go. We have a computer program that tells us what books are "dead" (aka haven't circulated in 3 or more years) and it makes lists. I decide which books to keep. For instance, we are not weeding Gary Paulsen. You want to have all the books, because once you read one, you have to read the rest. But our audience is particular in Anacostia. Dork Diaries rule. 

        Note: We send our good books to Better World books. Our books that are in bad condition go in the         trash. No one needs a bad book. 

Yesterday I looked up Better World Books and purchased the Silver Palate Basics cookbook again. 

Yesterday I skipped my sales meeting again. I have decided to not work my business this quarter, to give myself some time to get used to living alone and taking care of my apartment. To spend more time writing and reading. I had quiche at Barnes and Noble and bought my coffee for the next month. I went to Target and finally got more groceries. I stuck to my very small list. I took my own bag. It's a Giant Eagle bag that has drawings of Pittsburgh on it. I bought about seven years ago, but it hasn't been used much. I'm determined to recycle, reduce, and reuse. 

Yesterday I talked with my health coach about abs work. Weeding made me use my abs when I took the box of weeded books from the ground to the cart. I need to strengthen my abs so that I don't injure myself every time I lift something heavy. Librarianship is much less physical than bookselling and I have let myself go, though not on purpose. 

Today? I need to buy stamps (they are going up by 4 cents!) and meet with my therapist. It's almost 8:30, I better get going. See you tomorrow! 

Thanksgiving in August

Department stores used to have Christmas in July sales. So here is a Thanksgiving in August post. Because I am very thankful.

The little things add up: I'm trying to just watch two hours of Jane (the Virgin) each day and by yesterday afternoon I'd already watched one and a half. How was I going to spend the other hours of the day? My mom texted to see if I wanted to come for dinner. This brought in so many extra thankfuls:

• I don't have groceries, so dinner was taken care of!
• My dad got to see me do my story time on FB Live and
• I got to hear in person how much my mom enjoyed it. 

Both nights that I had dinner with my folks, I ran into neighbors just at the moment that I was leaving, and that seemed orchestrated too. Sunday, I got to let my Swedish neighbors know that I had moved to Del Ray, and last night I got to see my neighbor P, who I used to walk with almost daily. Gosh I miss those walks. 

On the way home, I listened to Night Life with Brandi, my favorite DJ on the local Christian station, WGTS, and last night she had some folks call in with stories of when things seemed so hopeless but they turned around. 

The ones that I remember:

• A woman who was told she had one year to live back in 2009. 
• A woman whose college paid off her debt at the last hour. 

Right now I feel like there is no plan, I languish at work. But the small and big thankfuls and how they seemed (and probably were, thanks God!) orchestrated, I have to see that there is. Today I'm taking my tiny sewing kit to work so that I can work on sewing some felt animals, something I did two winters ago. 

Naming and not naming

My mother asked me at dinner if I was doing okay. I have no idea why I didn't name it and say, "I'm a little depressed." No, I just said, it's taking me a while to get into a routine. 

I used to talk to my mother a lot. Then I lived with her for almost five years. We talked while making breakfast, or when both of us woke up too early. When I lived alone, in Pittsburgh, I called her every day on the phone. Now that I live alone again, I don't call her every day.

After church yesterday, I could see the day yawning ahead of me. Eating somewhere, a nap, and a "Jane the Virgin" binge-fest.  

So I came up with a plan. A tomato plan. I would take my tomato from her garden and share it. 

Making dinner with her and eating with my folks last night was a good choice to quell my demons for a few hours. When she fawned over me sharing the tomato, I didn't tell her about how much food I'd thrown out because I hadn't been cooking and the food all went bad. 

Why didn't I name it? Maybe because she asked at dinner and my dad was there. Hearing and not hearing, as the moments go. I hate how he just tunes out because he can't keep track of the conversation. But I'd probably do it too. Hearing loss is worse than blindness. 

*****

I called her. I wished her a happy anniversary. She put me on speaker. I almost didn't tell her. But then I did. And she said she thought maybe I was. We talked for a while, and it was good. 

Writing helps. I had to edit out some sentences that weren't true, like giving myself some cognitive therapy. 

A little depressed. A lot going on.

 As I look around my apartment (yeah, I moved since I last wrote!) everything is unfinished, from dishes in the sink to a paused episode of Jane The Virgin, to laundry a week behind, piles of stuff...

I'm lonely. After living with my parents for 4.5 years, I come home to "me, myself and I" every night. My closest friend lives in Michigan, and my sister has a very clingy almost 2 year old. I think her 7 year old starts school on Monday. 

I'm waiting on news of an interview from one library system (what's taking so long?) and news will come next week about a job I interviewed for last week. A manager job that could start as soon as August 30. 

Smile. It was the best interview I've ever had. I slayed. I don't know if I'll get the job, but I have now had a management interview, and I slayed. So that's good. 

Not sure it's the best time to be online dating, but I'm lonely, so I took the bait. I think it was the stories that people told about my uncle at his memorial--I mean "celebration of life"--service. He had a sense of humor and the son thought he'd never see his mom laugh after the divorce but my uncle took care of her and she was alive. He made her laugh. I. WANT. THAT. Can you get that from Match.com? The jury is still out. The first guy was not like his picture at all, and I was not attracted at all, after almost 2 weeks of messaging (because I was on vacation one of those weeks.) (Otherwise I would have done a video meeting sooner.) 

Oh, and we're still in a pandemic. (And there's stuff going on in Afghanistan, and Black Lives still seem to not matter to most of the country, and there's a storm named Henri...and don't get me started on the Jeopardy fiasco...)

And I live in a neighborhood where everyone is concerned about their health and their children and their pets. I have a first floor apartment, so if I have the blinds open, I get to see everyone walk by, babies in strollers and wearable baby carriers, checking their fitness watches.   

And I have a tiny fruit fly problem. Did I mention laundry? I was going to go to Richmond today to see a museum exhibit (on mental health) that is going away on Friday but I don't see driving 2 hours there and 2 hours back for a 30 minute event, by myself. Especially when I have to go back to work tomorrow. Where I sit and do nothing, because we are still experiencing low indoor numbers (see "Oh, and we're still in a pandemic.") 

Naming things. That's what writing is. (We did an exercise at my latest church Session meeting where we gave each other words and the word given to me was "name." If I name things, it's a little less OVERWHELMING. I feel a little bit better having written this. I still don't want to do anything but lounge around in my super cute pajamas, but I did something. I named where I am. I tried. Maybe I could do the dishes?