See you in May...(2nd edition, with links)

...we all said to one another, as we closed up the polls. The race we were all watching closely, Mayor of Pittsburgh, was a close one in our two polls (our polling location houses two polls.) [The incumbent won. But the "new guy on the block" gave him a run for his money.]

When I was in high school, I loved the quarterly croissant sales. For a week, you sat at a table, every day at lunch and the buzz you got off selling that many croissants for the greater good of the literary magazine--that is the kind of buzz I get off helping people vote.

"What's your name? What street do you live on? He's voter number 144. Here, hold onto this, Sheila will take you over to a machine. Have you used the machines before?" And after they've voted, "Did the machine thank you?" People cracking jokes, "The machine was very polite."

Reading material: Tuesday's Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. : All you need to know: the Steelers won, the Pens won (Monday night, both were blowouts.) (38-7, 5-0); The Promise (the book about the woman who was a real estate broker who sent a class of first graders to college) (Tina finished it by the end of the day); A Julie Garwood book (Liz was at the end of the table, so I don't know which one, except that she liked it and can't really get into Nora Roberts' books.); Eat Cake in the early part of the day (me, for the umpteenth time, it's my 'crisis book'*); Confessions of a Jane Austen Addict (me, which I brought back after my evening break, and finished. It was a time travel that really needed a little more explanation, like an envelope at the end.); yesterday's Trib Extra, a free afternoon paper put out by the Tribune Review. Sheila tried to show me how to do a Soduku. Oh, and Sheila is a Silpada dealer,** so we all pawed through the latest catalog. I promised to have a party in January.

____________
*Crisis book: a book that comforts me in a time of overwhelmedness, generally b/c the hero or heroine is going through more crap than I am at the moment, and suceeding at making lemonade out of lemons.

**Silpada: silver jewelery, very gorgeous.

Helpful, not helpful...

Helpful: having lunch with librarians to talk about online registration and how it's working out, at MAD MEX, yum.

Not helpful: driving fast on back roads.

Not helpful: slamming doors.

Helpful: spending the afternoon at the Heinz History Museum in the glass exhibit.

Helpful?: buying miniature roses.

Probably helpful: doing my Beth Moore homework.

Somewhat helpful: talking to my girls.

Helpful: getting out of the house. I went to the Union Project for dinner and then to their "Health Fair" and learned about soy candles and other products.

Definately helpful: naps.

Unnnnnnnnhhhh. Off to try to do some Beth Moore homework...

A day in the sun...

Or the shade, as the case may be.

Read into what you will my last post. All is NOT well in wonderland, but I won't be blogging about that. Instead, I want to tell you about my day yesterday, which was such a day that I will hold in the pages of my heart.

First, when I awoke and turned on my email, my online devo finished up the book of Job. The point of Job not being that he ended up with twice of what he had before God smote him... (read below, from Words of Hope)

The narrator ends his story with a version of "They all lived happily
ever after." But that is not really the point. To conclude that
faithfulness always results in earthly rewards flies in the face of
experience and goes against the grain of what the book of Job is all
about. It's not about the goodies. It's about God, and God alone.
"Does Job fear God for nothing?" It turns out that he does.

Prayer: Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart; nought be all else to me, save
that thou art. Thou my best thought, by day or by night, waking or
sleeping, thy presence my light.

Now, I take stock in when I hear or see the words of my favorite hymn. I first learned "Be Thou My Vision" in Vienna, (yes, Austria) when I was a sophomore in college. It was a hard summer--I was leaving Pittsburgh, transferring from Carlow College to the small school in Maryland I eventually graduated from. My parents were still living in Poland, so I was doing a lot of the legwork on my own. You might say I had to grow up fast. Well, and I did. But my parents offered me a gift: "Would you like to go to Vienna Summer School?" They had both gone when they were in college. YES! I would love to! So I spent a week with people my age traveling Europe, including Prague. Then I spent three weeks in Vienna, with weekends in Venice and Salzburg. The one weekend we were in Vienna, I insisted on going to church. So I found the English language church and some people from the program joined me.

The prelude was Schuman or Schubert, a violin solo. It was the most beautiful piece of music I have ever heard, and if I hear it again, I will leap for joy. (I never found out what it was.)

And one of the hymns was Be Thou My Vision. Which for many years I thought would be the processional in my wedding but then I came upon [German hymn, cannot remember it at the moment] which has a steadier walking beat. BTMV has sort of an irregular beat. (It is Irish Celtic, and the one I've since picked is German. Go figure.) (I'm finding the mental block fascinating, and strangely comforting.) (update at 11 pm: It's "Fairest Lord Jesus.")

That was the summer of D, who fits the profile of most of the men I've dated since (and bears a great resemblance to a certain fella.) A PPK (professor and preacher's kid), he was agnostic but brilliant. I tried to spend as much time with him as possible. We went to the art exhibits at Upper Belvedere--I had the sense that he had a girl back home, but we didn't talk about that. It was your quintessential "summer fling." For those three weeks in Vienna, it was us.

(Interesting tidbit--my father had the same sort of relationship with D's aunt when HE went to Vienna Summer School. D's aunt was engaged, and yet my dad and D's aunt spent the summer together, as friends.)

Converse to everything I say about what I keep or don't keep about former beaus (I generally get rid of everything), I still have the two letters D wrote me when I returned to my tiny college in Maryland. The second was a letter in which he told me he was getting married. I never wrote him again. But the letters, I cherish, as they are really the only "love letters" I ever recieved in the mail and D was very precious to me, for that period in my life.

Funny how writing takes you to places you never thought you'd return...so what I meant to write to you about was actually another song I learned, during the same period of my life. I think it was the next summer, the summer of my junior year of college, that I found an English speaking Christian fellowship in Warsaw. I was working at the Embassy, in the USAID office. Every Wednesday, I met with a group of people my age and we sang songs. I treasure that time, and many of those songs are songs that I have never sung with groups since.

One of them is this one:

You shall go out with joy
and be led forth in peace
and the mountains and the hills
shall break forth before you
there will be shouts of joy
and the trees of the field
shall clap
shall clap
their hands.
And the trees of the field will clap their hands (clap clap)
the trees of the field shall clap their hands (clap clap)
and the trees of the field shall clap their hands,
and you'll go out with joy.

I still remember walking down Dombrowskiego Street where my parents lived, the buildings pocked with what could have been WWII damage, and lined with WWII memorials which had fresh flowers daily. The year was 1991. It was summer, and light late, so I could take the tram anywhere. Off the tram I came, and walked to my parent's house, singing this song and clapping at the appropriate intervals.

The reason this song came back into my life was that on yesterday, this day of days, I accompanied Mr. FF to the church where he plays piano as a summer substitute. And we had to go early so he could attend a meeting to plan music for an upcoming picnic/worship service. And I was invited in on the meeting. Two of my suggestions, The Trees of the Field (see above) and Shine Jesus Shine, were added to the mix. It was glorious, to be welcomed in so quickly by these people, and included in the creative process.

Stay tuned, for more of "The day that I will treasure."

(Which in some ways resembled Lucy's experience in "While You Were Sleeping" -- the family welcomed her in. It was not FF's family, but the family that has taken him in at this lovely country church, but we were treated as family, and I was brought into the fold as if I'd been there for years.)

Then the time came when the risk it took To remain tight in a bud was more painful Than the risk it took to blossom."--Anais Nin

I am working things out in my mind and heart with fear and trembling. These are the words I comfort and challenge myself with:

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 of 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, from Small Victories by Samuel G. Freedman)

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

The Dare

Come walk the alley fence
Come tight-rope like a clown
Before Dad sees we're up too high
and shouts to get us down.

As confident as cats
We'll glide across the top
Hoping Mom doesn't look outside
And order us to stop.

We'll maybe lose our nerve
We'll maybe crash and fall
They'll probably shake their heads and say
"This doesn't make a bit of sense!
We warned you girls just yesterday!"
And send you home and make me stay.
But still--I dare you anyway,
To walk the alley fence.

--Ann R. Blaksler

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

“What do you do when there’s nothing you can do,” Gram said. “I dunno, I do something else,” Dicey said. (Dicey's Song by Cynthia Voigt)

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

Keep walking right through the hard things to where you can see Me. Leave the past behind and look up to me above all anxiety and grayness. I've already risen above them and am about to show you a new day. You'll find out who you are as you face the pain and help other people through it. And intimacy comes when you quit running from the truth about yourself and decide to turn loose...and walk into the future with Me. (the narrator here is God, as written by Keith Miller.)

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

Thanking My Mother for Piano Lessons by Diane Wakoski (snippets. It's a super long poem, but it's worth printing out and reading the whole thing--go to the link.)

The relief of putting your fingers on the keyboard,

as if you were walking on the beach

and found a diamond

as big as a shoe;

***

Love is a man

with a mustache

gently holding me every night,

always being there when I need to touch him;

he could not know the painfully loud

music from the past that

his loving stops from pounding, banging,

battering through my brain,

which does its best to destroy the precarious gray matter when I

am alone;

he does not hear Mrs. Hillhouse’s canary singing for me,

liking the sound of my lesson this week,

telling me,

confirming what my teacher says,

that I have a gift for the piano

few of her other pupils had.

When I touch the man

I love,

I want to thank my mother for giving me

piano lessons

all those years,

keeping the memory of Beethoven,

a deaf tortured man,

in mind;

of the beauty that can come

from even an ugly

past.

Diane Wakoski, “Thanking My Mother for Piano Lessons” from Emerald Ice: Selected Poems 1962-1987. Copyright ¦copy; 1988 by Diane Wakoski. Reprinted
with the permission of David R. Godine/Black Sparrow Press, www.blacksparrowbooks.com/titles/wakoski.htm.

All shall be well, and all shall be well, an all manner of things shall be well. (Dame Julian of Norwich)

FYI

The pictures post (below) is my S&T for this week, so feel free to post yours when you like, attaching coments to it.

I'll probably be posting less in the next little bit. I wish I could say because I'm going to Africa, like my friend Nan and fellow blogger Adrian. I wish I could say, well, we're going to Florida, like MsCell.

Meanwhile, I urge you all to read Eat Cake. (Apparently many of you have read it at my suggestion, but have you ALL read it?)

Cleaning out the purse (Sarah Louise's random thoughts on a Sunday night)

A new link on the right, under Bohemian Shoes: 3191. These two photobloggers live 3191 miles apart and post a morning picture daily--it is SO COOL.

Have you ever read someone's blog and thought, I want to meet this person, or this person is living the kind of life I want to live? Never? Oh, well, I guess I'm the only one...

Have started reading Reading like a writer by Francine Prose (what a great last name for a prose writer!) and it's the kind of book that makes me want to write. Also, there are two holds on it and it's due on Wednesday...I think I'll be buying a copy soon...but I wish it was in paperback...

Also, the theme for the next month-6 weeks at the OD is gifts. "Gifts" is my main love language (how I express my love to folks) so I'm thrilled! I made a cool box at BJ's beheast, and folks said they liked it. (smile...)

Gifts as in "what's your gift?" (what do you do well?)
Gifts as in "what do you have that was given to you?" (everything--it's all from God)
Gifts as in "what can I give xy and z for Christmas?" (or because they got a promotion or work, or because I saw this and thought of you...)

Eat Cake (yes, that book again!!) is a book about gifts--this book has become my I Ching. I read pieces of it daily. I will sit and read portions aloud because it is a book of wonderful dialogue with a lot of emotion and inflection needed. (An advantage to living alone!) Anyways, during BJ's sermon, I realized it's all about gifts! Ruth discovers that her gift (making cakes) can bring their family out of economic disaster. Her mother and father who have hated each other ever since Ruth can remember reconcile and start playing piano and singing together--using their gifts, AND it's a gift to Ruth to see her parents happy.

Had hot chocolate with the girls at Borders after church. Twas very nice. The Hope/Calvin game is Saturday but I just remembered I said I'd go to Sally's candle party. (I didn't go to Hope or Calvin but it's in my blood as my parents, grandparents and brother all went to Hope.) I've never been to a game, which is broadcast by satellite to bars nationwide, sponsored by alumni. Oh well, there's always next year...

Well, anyways, I spose it's time to get ready for bed...(although since I napped for who knows how long this afternoon I'm not so tired...) Tomorrow (my day OFF!) is a day of:
8:45 Chiropractor
go home, do stuff (like look at bills...)
10:30 drive to NoHills to work for lunch meeting with our Children's District person
until 1:45 pm, drive to Wexford, where I will say adieu to my therapist, a woman I've been seeing for about two years.
go home, do stuff. (like prepare for new Bible Study that starts Tuesday.)
7:15 pm go back to the chiropractor, for a "new patient orientation."

I already checked, Studio 60 isn't on this week--it's 2 more hours of Heroes. Enough already--it was 3 hours last week!!

So even though Carlos says he's done thinking about gifts (the season is over!) I will probably be blogging about it, since I already have one post started.

Upcoming: SL will be looking for a new therapist--sigh. I said to Erin that doing the box for the OD was very therapeutic and she said, maybe you should look into art therapy. Um. So I may do a lot of therapeutic crafts during the month of January.

Oh, and start getting ready to BE A FICTION WRITER.

Calgon, take me away.

There came a time when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

(Anaïs Nin)

Friday I heard Brian Collier speak. He is an African-American illustrator of children's books. His words ring in my head and in my heart. This is the refrain that I hear: Andrea Pinkney telling him to "Risk it all on every page." Brian said, "that rings in my head and in my heart" with every project.

These are some of the words that inspire me, that ring in my head and in my heart:

"If you don't want what you want, then you're not going to get it." (Madonna)

A pink tag from Bladerunners: SKATE AT YOUR OWN RISK.

"So take a new grip with your tired hands, stand firm on your shaky legs and mark out a straight smooth path for your feet so that those who follow you, though weak and lame, shall not fall and hurt themselves but become strong." (Hebrews 12:12)

"There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside of you." (Maya Angelou)

"I have accepted fear as a part of life--specifically the fear of change. I have gone ahead despite the pounding in the heart that says: turn back." (Erica Jong)

"Sow for yourselves righteousness, reap the fruit of unfailing love, and break up your unplowed ground; for it is time to seek the LORD, until he comes and showers righteousness on you." (Hosea 10:12)

"I don't know how to fight. All I know is how to stay alive." (Alice Walker, although in my brain I think Helen Keller.)

When I'm brave, when I remember who I am, this one reappears where it is generally written on my the inside of my eyelids in invisible ink:

"She is not afraid of snow for her household...she laughs at the time to come." (Proverbs 31:21, 25)

I took an abbreviated walk today. I got out there and realized that really what I needed to do was to get my thoughts down on.

So here it is, in black and white, on a pink background:

I am afraid you will leave me. It doesn't matter who you are.

The number of men I trust, four: My father, my brother, and my two pastors. The number of women I trust: a few more than four, and my mom tops the list.

I would rather leave you than you leave me. But I'd rather us stay. Unless I sense that you are going to leave me.

So when I went to an Internet Safety forum Thursday night and the evening's last speaker, Amber, a girl who was taken from her house because she trusted someone online, it brought up a ton of junk. At least 2,000 lbs, maybe more. "Have you ever had a man take your confidences, act like your best friend and then twist everything?" She asked us to raise our hands. I did. But she heckled us, because this was the North Hills, where everyone is so suburban and perfect so I might have been the only raised hand and no, I didn't raise it high. The other women in the room were most likely mothers, wives, and no one was sitting next to anyone they didn't know. "What, all your men are perfect?" she asked us.

My heart cries out: I have been betrayed. I have been twisted. "With a kiss" like the U2 song says. Sweet sixteen, never been kissed. Oh, to be 24 and be able to say that. But I'm past that now...

My first kiss, he later told me, expected me to slap him. For a moment, I am back there, in that dark auditorium, next to a boy who I had just met. I have two impressions of him. The first, from the previous day, when I met him: he was a jerk. The second, formed that night after he recounted to me his entire sordid life story, that he was okay. And then, in the dark of a high school auditorium with a band playing badly and loudly, he kissed me. I was too surprised to do anything but kiss him back. How I wish I had slapped him. How I wish I had had a hat pin (what our grandmothers carried to poke fresh boys that tried something in the dark of the movie theatres). But instead, I gave him my heart. And he never really took it, because he was also kissing four other girls. So my heart rested in the air, not in my chest any longer, and not in his heart. In limbo. It's a pretty painful place to rest--actually, it's not restful at all. Wondering if he's going to call, crazy glad when he does, waiting for that next kiss, stolen in the hall by the courtyard before lunch. Months of this before I woke up to the fact that my heart wasn't getting any actual healthy circulation, my heart was high and dry. I wish I could say I learned my lesson at 17. No, I gave out my heart again and again. And sometimes the boy held my heart, and sometimes I realized (usually too late) that my heart was getting unhealthy blood. I was Ophelia. I drowned, a lot.

Which brings us to present time, where I live my life like a normal person and no one knows that me, I do, I have black like tar secrets seething under the surface. Tar only bubbles up on the really hot days.

But in October, all bets are off.

I am tired of carrying around my suitcase of tar. I am tired of living as if I'm going to pretend to trust you and then I'm going to be broken hearted when you maybe disappoint me. I'm just trying to work this out. I'm ready to say, this is broken, please God, fix it! I'm ready to say, I AM BROKEN, PLEASE GOD, FIX ME!

"I'll shout it from the mountaintops" is a lyric from an old praise song. In the funniest movie I've seen this year, You, Me, and Dupree, Coldplay's song "Fix You" played in a particularly climactic scene. As the credits rolled, I knew I was looking for something. Because part of the reason You, Me... was so funny was because it was so true. It cut to the heart of all our insecurities.

Tears stream down on your face
I promise you I will learn from the mistakes
Tears stream down your face

Lights will guide you home
And I will try to fix you

We all want the "happily ever after." We are Americans and we believe in the gospel of Disney.

"I will go before thee, and make all the crooked places straight." (Isaiah 45:2)

For a moment, I see God as a Zamboni driver, smoothing out all the ridges in the ice. The rink is empty and the ice is smooth. A song comes out of the speakers, "Take my life," and I go out onto the ice and skate as if my life depended on it.

"The latest thing"

Carolyn tagged me and well, I have this quiz or one like it to thank for getting me back in touch after being out of touch with a friend for almost six years. So here goes.

1. FIRST NAME? Suzi. I changed the spelling from Susie to Suzy in college and at some point changed the y to an i. Turns out, it's very German. (Oh ack--did I just out myself?) I'm sorry, I'll not be Sarah Louise for this. (Although that might be a fun exercise...)

2. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? No...I was supposed to be a boy and be Andrew because my due date was Nov 30. My parents had some Catholic friends who had told them Nov 30 was St. Andrew's day. So my middle name is Andrea.

3. WHEN DID YOU LAST CRY? Last night. I sobbed and sobbed and I couldn't stop. It's the hormones, it's the lonliness, it's going to a seminar on churches and realizing the one you go to is pretty darn good but still lacks REAL community.

4. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? In fourth grade I was given a prize at the end of the year for "most improved penmanship." It's been all downhill from there. I write big and messy.

5. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCHMEAT? Lebanon Baloney. We only get it at the Lake. I don't generally buy lunch meat, cause it goes bad and there's only me to eat it. Pastrami is second.

6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Yes, but I'd buy stock in Kleenex.

7. DO YOU HAVE A JOURNAL? This is like that quote from Wayne's World, only backwards. "A gun rack... a gun rack. I don't even own *a* gun, let alone many guns that would necessitate an entire rack. What am I gonna do... with a gun rack?" Let's see, I have a beautiful notebook that lives in my purse. I have the blog. I have a folder in "My Documents." I have a shelf in my closet of all my journals from high school. So I guess the answer would be Yes, yes, and yes.

8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? I don't think so.

9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? That would be a "no."

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Post Honey Bunches of Oats.

11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? Good grief, no. (Stolen from Carolyn, verbatim.)

12. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? I'm stronger than a bread box. (again, verbatim from C.)

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR? Ben and Jerry's Chubby Hubby. It is ambrosia.

14.SHOE SIZE? 7 1/2 or 8. What? Yes, my shoe size went down when my arches got higher. I used to be an 8 1/2.

5. RED OR PINK? If you have to ask... (although I always get compliments when I WEAR red.)

16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? My tendency to get depressed (surprisingly, half of Carolyn's verbatim.)

17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? It's not a who really. I miss having a friend like in high school, someone to hang out with and roar with laughter together. (verbatim, again.) I miss having friends on weekends. All my friends have family on Saturday/Sunday, and I have work on Saturday and Sunday is the worst until church, which is at night!

18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO SEND THIS BACK TO YOU? I want everyone who wants to do this to do it. How's that? (verbatim, again.)

19. WHAT COLOR PANTS, SHIRT AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? I'm not dressed yet--it's 7:14 in the morning. I'm wearing an old robe of my uncle's.

20. LAST THING YOU ATE? Part of a white meat dinner at Boston Market. Then they played the Everly Brothers "Bye Bye Love" and I lost my appetite.

21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? Surrounded, a CD of praise music compiled by a worship group at Hope College, the alma mater of my parents, grandparents, and brother. It was a Christmas present a few years back. I'm surprised I haven't worn it out, for as many times I've listened to it.

22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? I hate this question. Pink.

23. FAVORITE SMELL? A red red rose. (I don't know. I'm not really a smell person.)

24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? My mom. They're in Williamsburg this weekend.

25. THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE YOU ARE ATTRACTED TO? No idea. It's different every time.

26. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU? Yes, yes I do! (This is a good answer. A weird answer is "Sure" as in "do you want fries with that?" "Sure." But it's okay, doll, I've gotten over it!!)

27. FAVORITE DRINK? Fresh squeezed lemonade.

28. FAVORITE SPORT? To do: ice skating. To watch: hockey.

29. EYE COLOR? Brown.

30. HAT SIZE? Why, are you going to buy me one? I have no clue. I do like hats, though...

31. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? Yes.

32. FAVORITE FOOD? That's like asking Imelda Marcos to pick out a favorite pair of shoes. Come on now. (verbatim from Carolyn.) Mexican/Latin American, if I'm pressed, though. Tortillas with re-fried beans and sour cream.

33. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Happy Endings (verbatim.)

35. SUMMER OR WINTER? Winter.

36. HUGS OR KISSES? Both.

37. FAVORITE DESSERT? Backlava.

38. WHO IS MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? Do I LOOK like a magic eight ball? (verbatim.)

39. LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND? See question 38. (this is getting embarassing....verbatim)

40. WHAT BOOKS ARE YOU READING? Well, at least you didn't ask what book (singular). Riding the bus with my sister, Sahara Special (on audio), the Book of Genesis, Eat Cake...

41. WHAT'S ON YOUR MOUSE Pad? e.encyclopedia. It's an ad for a DK book. I got it for free at a library conference.

42. WHAT DID YOU WATCH LAST NIGHT ON TV? I watched Men in Black, again.

43. FAVORITE SOUNDS? When Abraham sings in between the verses at church.

44. ROLLING STONE OR BEATLES? Beatles. "I wanna hold your hand..."

45. THE FURTHEST YOU'VE BEEN FROM HOME? Moscow, Russia. It was a 24 hour train ride from where I lived at the time, Warsaw, Poland. And I'm sure it still qualifies as far far away from Pittsburgh.

46. WHAT'S YOUR SPECIAL TALENT? Making and giving gifts.

47. WHERE WERE YOU BORN? Columbia Women's Hospital, Washington D.C. The city remains, but the hospital is gone.

48 WHO SENT THIS TO YOU? Carolyn. What, were you not paying attention?

Make new friends...

This part I wrote the weekend Babs and Blackbird went to Bethlehem:

Last night I finished reading Eat Cake. I may start reading it again tonight. Two books I ordered at the library came in for me today, books I'm not sure I'm really ready to read:

• What Did I Do Wrong?: When women don't tell each other the friendship is over
• The Friend who got away: Twenty women's true-life tales of friendships that blew up, burned out, or faded away.

It's a subject that I've been working on emotionally since Sally Brown (not her real name) told Tray I liked him and then flew away to China the very same day. That was in the fourth grade. For two years, books were my only friends. Friendship-ending is a subject that women don't talk about. Here's a quote from WDIDW: "Yet I could positively say that this subject had never come up. I had never asked a woman, 'How are you?' and heard the response, 'Not so great, I'm in the process of being dumped by a very close friend and I'm feeling so sad and kind of ashamed about it.' No, I'd never heard anything even close to that." (Pryor, 5)

Pryor tells her story through conversations with us, the reader, and with other women. How we get tons of sympathy from all corners when a guy dumps us, but there doesn't seem to be a category for "friend grief." I think back to Maya, who helped me with my yard sale a couple years ago. I think back to Tara, who was my roommate for a few months in college. I think of Lorelei, who fell off the face of my earth for a few years. I think of...and the list goes on. It was my fault, it was her fault, it was geography, it was time, it was marital status... Pryor talks with her friends at a baby shower. Phoebe gives us this: "I go back and forth daily. I hate her, I miss her, I'm pissed, I'm sad. I can't get over the fact that she sees me as so replaceable. We have so much history, and for the life of me, I can't imagine what happened to outweigh all of that. She was the only one I never had to go back and explain things to. She was there for all of it..." (Pryor, 14)

A few years ago, I was really depressed. It was summer, and I'd been friends with Maya since winter. Life, junk, and the co-dependency of our friendship was pulling me into an abyss so low that I finally had to take some time off work. I went home to stay with my parents for five weeks and when I came back, I didn't work for months. I couldn't face her. I cut her out. She'd call, and I'd let the phone ring. I couldn't tell her. Because with a guy, you know you probably won't be with him forever unless you're both wearing rings. But when you meet a girlfriend, we all have this fantasy that we'll be friends forever, have houses next door to each other, and raise our children side by side. It's the girlfriend version of the American Dream. So when stuff pisses us off, we put it aside. We don't talk about it. And it builds. And it builds. And it builds. Until the thought of that person makes you want to vomit.

Men don't seem to have this issue. In an earlier post (back in March), I wrote about the book Why Men Hate Church. In there, I read about testosterone and its role in relationships. Here's me, from Still reading that book called "Why men hate church" (March 11, 2006)

... For instance, I knew (who didn't?) that men have more testosterone. In conflict solving, this allows men to fight it out quickly, sometimes mano a mano, and then shake hands and be friends again. What I did not realize was that women have more seratonin. (Which explains why women "are naturally more self-controlled, less aggressive, and less prone to violence than women. Women get angry, but seratonin allows them to handle conflict differently...Seratonin lets women suppress their anger, allowing it to smolder while they plot their revenge. Men get mad; women get even." p. 83)

Lily and I haven't been talking--I've been too tired to get back in touch. But we chatted briefly on Friday and she told me she'd run into Maya, who wanted to get together for dinner sometime. I didn't say a word. I'm stronger now than I was two summers ago. Maybe I could be friendly with Maya.

Make new friends, but keep the old, some are silver and the other gold. A circle is round, it has no end, that's how long I want to be your friend. (Traditional song.)

This part is tonight, at 11:42, as Kenny Rogers sings "The Gambler" and my air conditioning whirrs and makes the room cool.

What is a true friend? It changes every day. And yet, it is the same. One soul in two bodies. I woke Emily up because I was angsty about something I did earlier today. And she didn't judge me. She didn't offer advice. She said, SL, those things are things that only God can reveal to you. And that, my friends, is golden. Because that was what I needed to hear. I don't understand why my life is what it is, but He does.

A bruised reed he will not break, a dimly burning wick he will not quench....Isaiah 42:3

This has been a heck of a week. But it's almost over! One more day of being a Children's Librarian, a charity function, and then it's Sunday! I actually have just about 24 hours before it is a new week. Hallelujah!

Tomorrow is a brand new day--with no mistakes in it.

--L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables.

Babelbabe makes good on the offer of a cake--UPDATED with picture

Oh my. Pistachio cake is wonderful! And I learned how to make the title of a post a link--it was in the "Settings." (What things you learn when you watch BB post) (We made fun of Joe, the new dude on Blues Clues, too.)

Upcoming: a post on memes.

This is one of those testing 123 posts b/c I am going to BED! More later, though this is a busy week...

So, in case you were keeping track: The title of this post is a link to Babelbabe's promise to bake me a cake. (I don't know why it doesn't underline to let you know it's clickable.) I updated the "kinds of shoes" ie blogs that I link to, and I successfully changed the format of my archives. It was as easy as Badger said, I just wasn't paying attention.

Coming attractions...

Babs and I are making cake tomorrow! Pistachio cake to be exact. (B--we need 3/4 c. pistachios.) It's one of the cakes from Eat Cake. I promise to take pictures and post them. I am so excited!!

I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys.

(Song of Solomon 2:1)

Flowers...how I love thee, let me count the ways. A memorable scene from the movie Enchanted April (it's a crime the quote isn't on their memorable quotes page on imdb.com!) (a crime, I tell you!) is where Mr. Wilkins says to his wife, Lottie, (not a direct quote):

"Flowers are the worst extravagance--they just die! Lottie, I am not a rich man. I own no bonds. What would happen if I was hit by a streetcar and you were still buying flowers?"

My favorite flowers (List Friday, courtesy of Mrs. Pom):

• Tulips. Red, then pink, then the ones that are all swirly colored.
• Roses. Red, but I'll take chocolate ones any day...
• All other flowers.

Yes, I'm that discriminating!! I have silk flowers of all types all over my apartment and when tulips are 6.99 at Whole Foods or Giant Eagle, I generally splurge. I'm partial to brown eyed Susans, which are the state flower of Maryland. So "scenic overlooks" and such are all marked by brown eyed Susans... (I refuse to call them black eyed Susans, it sounds so violent!)

Someday I hope to go to Tulip Time, which takes place in Holland, Michigan, where my parents, grandparents, and baby brother all went for college, at Hope College. (Actually, I think both my aunts started there and then transferred out.) I almost went there (who couldn't love a school whose motto is "Hope in God" from Psalm 42:5, which is a pretty depressing Psalm until you get to the end) but ended up here in da Burgh.

Gotta go (um, I'm sposed to be packing, for my weekend away, but I'll take any excuse to go shopping with Babs!) to Fox Books.

****

'mback--I got Babs to buy my favorite book (at the moment) Eat Cake. You should read it too!

I promise next week to take time with you--I've been writing on the quick this past week...

10 Simple pleasures

I think I got this one from Kim and Bec...

1. Singing along to Green Day on the radio, with the windows rolled down on a sunny day
2. Having people compliment me on my dress (pink with flowers, thank you!)
3. Eating dinner and reading Eat Cake on the porch of my favorite bistro.
4. Browsing in a bookstore for a graduation gift, getting home and realizing I'd rather just make a cute card and making it. (So the gift is one book instead of two.)
5. Work that takes my mind off everything but my musical selection (Billy Joel's Glass Houses, Indigo Girls' Become You.)
6. My employee discount at the Book Nook upstairs: a can of Coke for 43 cents, baby!
7. Knowing an alternate route to work and avoiding MILES AND MILES of backed up traffic.
8. Prayer. Anne Lamott says her two main prayers are Help me, help me and Thank you, Thank you. I'm there, baby!!
9. Knowing (yes, this is a crazy one) that I can come back to work tomorrow and finish this damn project if it comes to that, and the satisfaction when I'm DONE!
10. Imagining the Mediterranean Nachos at the Sharp Edge for the graduation party after work at the Sharp Edge.

Okay, back to the project...which involves moving catalog records onto other catalog records...

Oh, and here's a thought, Deb style: Hug your friends. It is so easy to forget to do that. And so hard when you only communicate by phone or email. We need to remember that each one of us is flesh and blood.

Signed,

the one with clay feet

Sarah Louise visits Burlington Coat Factory and experiences the circle of life

It was the most bizarre shopping trip I'd taken in awhile. (a while?) It was a Wednesday evening, which is MY evening. I get to choose. I wanted to go to Tuesday Morning, this amazing store I'd discovered on Monday.

I'd been to a Tuesday Morning in Virginia--I went with my friend PJ before the movie "Brokedown Palace." It's kind of a cross between Pier One, Marshall's and TJ Maxx, but not so much on the clothes. Read: cheap fun stuff, that you never see in regular stores. I had spied a set of 4 glass square canisters for 14 bucks on Monday and when I realized today that I had a little more in the bank than I'd anticipated, I decided to splurge. (It's rare that a librarian gets overtime pay--so rare that when she saw the extra $40 she had to ask the accounts payable clerk, who said, you worked overtime?) So I went in, today, only to discover that they close at 7pm! I mean, the library is open until 9--who closes at 7pm? Clearly, they do. So...I went to Kuhn's (which months ago was Shop and Save) to let them know they didn't give me the sale price for the bottle of Dove Shampoo I purchased Monday. Score, I got back 2 bucks and change! Sweet.

But I was not ready to go home. So, I thought, I could window shop at Burlington Coat Factory, a store where I can always find something to purchase. When I worked dahntahn (Downtown Pittsburgh), there was a BCF right next door. I still have some items I purchased there, over eight years ago. Well, at least one skirt.

As I cross over to the door, a couple is sitting outside, waiting for a ride, I think, since there's not a bus stop sign nearby. The man has a tiny Petco box that has airholes (it sort of looks like the boxes they used to use for Dunkin Donuts Munchkins) so I'm assuming they just purchased a small pet. I take a few more paces through the automatic doors and I am in Mother's Day Central. Spa sets, bath salts, hat boxes, hats, stationery, socks, books about mothers, books about daughters, books about friends...if it's pink and it says Mother's Day in black and white or by its mere existence, it is there. I try on some straw hats, as my sister's college graduation (woo hoo!!) will be outside, weather permitting. None really suits except for the black one, which seems an odd color for someone who's not wearing the robe and mortarboard hat.

I then wander into the household art section. Sculptures, candle holders, lamps...nothing really catches my eye. I spend a few minutes in the ladies department, but find nothing that really catches my eye there either. I am now into "Luxury Linens," one of BCF stores within the store. Towels, sheets, pillows. I find a green pillow with pink flowers, and add it to the socks I found earlier (3 for $6). I continue past all the shower curtains, toothbrush holders, soap dispensers.

I have crossed the threshold. I am now in "Baby Depot," and all around me are pacifiers (binkies), bottles, baby hats, diaper bags, baby furniture, toys...I wander through, not merely to torture myself, but with the thought in mind that I received two emails this week announcing births to two acquaintances. I didn't see anything that I could really imagine giving as a gift to either child or set of parents. Maybe it's the acquaintance thing.

Soon, I am in the men's department, which is flanked by the shoe department for men, women and children. Nothing there fit that caught my eye. (Read: many caught my eye, none fit.) (Alas...) Somewhere after the shoe department, I round the register area, with last minute Mother's Day impulse buys. I have come full circle from being a daughter, a friend, a tooth brush owner, a friend to babies, a shoe lover, and again, a daughter. (I guess in the men's department I was again a daughter and also a sister.) I made my purchases, including an impulse gag gift for the graduate (I'll reveal later...) and when I left the store, about 45 minutes after I'd entered, the same couple was still sitting outside the store, and I wondered who it was they were waiting for. I wondered, too, what was inside that munchkins box.

I drove home, listening to Thomas Friedman tell me about the flattening of the world, and up to my hot hot third floor walk up. Gag. I need more ice in my rum and Coke...

Reading: Julie and Romeo get lucky by Jeanne Ray (who also wrote Eat Cake, who is also mom to Ann Patchett, author of Bell Canto, which no, I still have not yet read. But I read Taft, and that *was* good.)

Must. read. book. (oh, and check laundry. That would make sense...)

Ta!