This is going to be one of THOSE posts

Which could mean it stays in "draft" for all eternity. We'll see. The problem, as I just tweeted, about being less depressed is that you actually care about things and start doing more and then when your heightened expectations collide with the reality that there is too much to do because you've been doing nothing while you were more depressed and you can't find the ~n on charmap.exe to wish a friend happy birthday in Spanish and and and...sobs ensue. It's not pretty.

I was just asked if I wanted in for "Powerball." I don't do the lottery, sorry.

Apparently, according to my hormone horoscope, I'm at the weepy stage of my cycle too. GREAT.

So I pretty much cried all the way to work. (I cried before work, and screamed expletives when I figured out I didn't have time for a shower because I hadn't put together my pills for the day.)

I'm reminded of an old Family Circle cartoon. Now, hang on, I don't go much for that comic, it's a little too "precious" for me, but this one stayed with me. Little Bill got up really early, thought he had all the time in the world, did all sorts of things, and ended up LATE for the bus.

I've also realized that I am very much affected by the lives around me. For instance, it feels like years since I've talked to my boss in Children's, a woman who is so wonderful and really my mentor in so many ways. And Marian (the Librarian) has been recovering from surgery, so it's been years since we've had lunch.

And as much as I am adoring reading "Home" (Marilynne Robinson's companion to Gilead), it is a melancholy reminder of my own life. Glory is the protagonist here, and boy do I relate to her character. I won't say more, (no spoilers) and besides, I need to write something cheery before we all collapse into a need for a case of pink Kleenex.

So, I don't have pictures. But I'll paint one for you. Months ago, Kiki (my dear cousin, who has a super-fun blog) issued me a challenge. If you wash all your dishes, I'll send you one. Now, this is no ordinary dish. It's made by Kiki, especially for me. It's pinkish with a warm yellowy glow. It is heart shaped, and at the crook of the heart, there is a rose (on I think a handle) (I told you, I don't have pictures yet.) On the bottom, she inscribed lyrics from a famous song, a song more famous than the show it is in, which is my favorite musical, Carnival. No, not Carousel. Carnival is about a naive girl who comes into the circus world, and the song you probably know is "Love makes the world go round." She also inscribed it Kiki, even though IRL that's not my cousin's name. But it adds to the wonderfulness of it.

The dish is microwave, dishwasher, and oven safe, and it comes with a little purple paper that says so. Since my kitchen looks once again like a hurricane (Ike, is that you?) took over, the beautiful dish from Kiki stays in the box for now.

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So the latest--have I told yins this yet? Now that I have twitter and Facebook to keep up with AND the blog, I lose where I have told people what. So the latest is that the ear infection isn't an ear infection, it's an inflammation of the jaw bone (the jaw bone is connected to the ear bone the ear bone is connected to...). So I'm to take Tylenol and eat soft foods (read: foods you can gum) for two weeks. A delicious discovery: biscotti, when dipped in coffee, is gummable. We're going to Kelly O's for lunch, as eggs are also gummable. I had yogurt with no granola for breakfast, at red lights along Rte. 8, on the way to work.

With my coffee (decaf) and biscotti, I also have a Hershey's special dark bar, because on a weepy Wednesday, this girl needs CHOCOLATE.

Somehow I thought I had hit publish. So I'll do that now.

Sarah Louise tries to stay solvent...

My dad has this saying: If your outflow exceeds your inflow, then your upkeep will be your downfall.

I've been living the downfall part since I graduated with my B.A. in English, 1993. I had three great years. They were the years I lived with my parents as I figured out my bipolar diagnosis. So I know it's possible. But not easy. And when gas is $3.95 and more a gallon...

So I've been trying a few things. Mint.com is one. Except that they really stick it to you--right now, there it is, on the screen: I'm not in the black. I'm solidly in the red.

Another thing I'm trying: to eat in more.

So tonight, after I called my friend and she was already making her dinner, I thought, oh, I should go out to Gullifties or something and then I thought NO! I want to make this solvency thing work. (I do want to write a post about being a single woman eating alone at a restaurant. That's another post.)

So I ate my leftovers from Mad Mex (Wednesday) and watched Love Actually, which is such a wonderful movie. Rough around the edges in the sense that the people are really real, which, you know, is sort of shocking.

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And I WAS on the radio this morning! (After making several illegal U-turns because part of 579 is shut down and there are no marked detours.) There were 9 of us librarians. It was a lot of fun. We had brunch at Panera afterwards and it broke into talking about how crazy different people's bosses are.

There's a Pittsburgh job--Kiki on the phone yesterday, "But I didn't think you were looking in Pittsburgh." Um, well, I wasn't. I'll spare the details just because, you know, it's the Internet, and you never know who's reading, but it's a kind of cool job. You should have seen Marian's face when I told her I was going to apply. Look up "grin" in the dictionary and you'd see Marian's smile.

Of course, if I were to stay in da Burgh, no one could visit me in NYC, I'd still be at my church with all its imperfections, and I'd still be living in the third floor walk up with Max on the first floor.

So...I don't know. It's all fantasy until I send the resumé, and even then, you know, the interview...

If I did stay, I'd ask my landlord for new floors, and I'd get a paint job. Maybe have this room pink. Not bubblegum pink, something soft-ish.

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My dad took my mom to a MLB game, the Senators against...um. The Senators won. (I think.) Anyways, it was an exciting game, in the way that Game 5 was exciting for me. So it was fun to talk to my dad about it, even though I don't get baseball and he doesn't get hockey, we could share the excitement we experienced.

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So, SATC-TM (Sex and the City, the Movie) of course has caused a hubbub. No doubt. And being that I have always grappled with being a red blooded Christian woman and my love for Carrie, Miranda, Samantha, and Charlotte, I thought I'd pass on a few links of some folks and what they're saying. And let me say how much I respect Christianity Today for
a) giving Camerin Courtney, a single woman, the job to review the movie
and
b) coming clean with the fact that a lot of people couldn't believe they reviewed it at all. "You reviewed WHAT?"

Camerin did not love the movie. I did. For me, it was a perfect mix of escapism and the reality of what happens when relationships break and how you try to repair them.

But here's a quote I liked from from Camerin's review (and really, if you're not sure if you want to see it, read Camerin's review, she lets you know what you'll see, just so you're not shocked when you get to the theater.)

Most of the few Christian voices speaking to the growing single segment of the population offer ten easy steps to find our soulmate. As if it's that wondrously simple. Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda, however, show how challenging it really can be for intelligent, accomplished, and admittedly neurotic women to find lasting love. They, unlike many Christians, don't insult my intelligence. Instead they speak to the complexities of relationships in a postmodern age—addressing baby lust, the mommy wars, sexual temptation, dating outside your "class," commitment-phobia, the reluctant desire to be rescued by a man, and the simultaneous fear that you'll lose your own hard-won identity in the process. Yes, materialism and hedonism abound. But so does a messy wrestling with complex new realities of life that I wish I saw more of in Christian circles.

That one line: They...don't insult my intelligence. Yes. Yes. YES. Because love on either side of the wedding is not easy. And American Christian culture doesn't do a good job of communicating that. Or, if they do, they speak only to those that are on the wedding band side. If there was a book called: So, you're single? Finding your Christian soul mate in 36 excruciating steps that may not work for your personality or situation, I'd buy it. Because at least it would be honest.

Because, honestly, I have no idea if I want to get married. Kids? I'm sorry, having something inside me for 9 mos and getting bigger does not appeal to me in the least. Plus, I'd have to change my psych meds. It's not that I don't like kids (hello, I'm a children's librarian) or that I don't think there are any great men out there (but they're all too young or married...) Okay, this is one of those train wreck paragraphs.

And possibly one of those train wreck posts. Here's another reason I blog anonymously: there isn't pressure for every sentence to be poetic, or funny. And inevitably, the posts that I think are lame are the ones that get comments, and the ones that I think are brilliant get none. I allow myself, in the words of Natalie Goldberg, to just write trash. I can't find my copy of Writing Down the Bones at the moment to find the quote. And in blogging, I allow myself to publish drivel. Because I just want to connect. Yes, I should be using my writing energy to write a novel, or work on my 15 year old novella, but I'm not ready yet. And just like trying to stay in and not eat out (as much) and doing things like trying to keep track of where my money goes are small steps, so is blogging.

Okay, I think I'll go make a cup of hot tea. Or gargle. Or something to be healthy.

Very short post...

So I'm still doing the Twitter thing. If you are, come find me, I'm pghgurl30. Last night it took me a while to distill the party I attended into 140 characters:

"Flowers for b-day girl pollinated my shirt (orange gunk). Pink sweater from car trunk, which Lucia gummed. Good times. Yes, I held a baby."

I also had a chance to share my Queens dream with BJ, who responded with, "That's huge! You haven't moved in how many years?" which is like, yep. It's so great when people get the gist. I also got to talk to him about Pete S. and Tim Keller, which was great. He actually talked to Pete S. on the phone yesterday (briefly) because one of his professors from seminary roomed with Pete S. in seminary. BJ doesn't like Christian radio, but John Hall goes to Bellefield, so called BJ after he spoke there last week on the Sabbath rest. And he got that from Pete's book. So Dr. S. sort of handed him the phone, "here, talk to Pete." He said it was sort of bizarre. Um, yeah. Oh, so the other part is that John Hall said, "Will you come on our show?" which BJ has a number of times. I was at work when it was on so wasn't able to hear the broadcast.

Well, I'm reading Here Comes Everybody, which is about how communication has changed and the night before I just sat and in one fell swoop (stopping to brush my teeth) read The Mother Daughter Book Club (a fiction book, not the classic that started the phenom). Loved it. The girls are not friends but the moms are and they read Little Women. It's told from the perspective of the four girls. Highly recommend it.