Just when I was about to do a really meaty post about Dewey Decimal Classification...

...I stumbled onto this article. How, you might ask, did I go from my work email (a Publisher's weekly newsletter) to a New York Magazine article about Sex and the City?

Easy--PW blog post about Dumbledore's sexual orientation announcement to
NYM list of other characters whose outing wouldn't surprise to
NYM list of characters who need to die to
NYM Article about Mr. Big to
NYM Article about SATC movie.

Talk amongst yourselves. I'll come back and dissect the article about SATC later.

I have bits of things to blog about running around in my head, like the t-shirt I saw today at Mother Goose (on a 2 year old): "I still live at home with my parents." A few weeks ago I saw one that said "The tiara makes me taller."

A book I checked out today: Pass it down: 5 picturebook families make their mark by Leonard Marcus, children's lit researcher extraordinaire. (will link later.)

Our dept. won the 5th annual pumpkin decorating contest!! Which means we get free lunch at our restaurant of choice. I think it will be Red Lobster. The theme was Wizard of Oz.

Of course, there are other things, like I keep walking up to other blue cars, and realizing they are not my rental.

And my folks are going to help pay for the rental which makes me a little less in the category of abject and on the way to the poorhouse and needing to buy a car, any car, today or tomorrow. Max said, it's a luxury to have parents that can help out. Yes, I said, and I'm glad we both have that luxury. He's off to visit the folks for a few days. I'll miss him, but I'm going ice skating Saturday night, cuz he won't go with me, so I'll go by myself. You're invited, btw, details are here (link this later.)

Also have been working on the evite for my birthday party. I am an end of November baby, but anyone that is born between Nov 10 and January 15 or so can attest, birthdays are often Birthday-Christmas celebrations. So I celebrate all of November, as much as I can get away with.

As soon as I hit publish, I know I'll remember something else I was meaning to mention, something about...

morning is here...

And we have chickens!! I now get them via email. I think these chickens save my life a little bit every day. This was today's (the first link was an old one, also about music)

The other night, let's see, it was Wednesday, I skipped Bible Study to stay home because my stomach was acting funny. I guess it's a little ironic that I skipped Bible Study to stay home and ended up watching Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte.

Since my Season One DVD is still lost in the abyss and my VCR/DVD combo has decided it only wants to let me watch VHS for the moment (I need a vacation!!), I watched my VHS of Sex and the City Season 4, Volume 4. It's the one where Miranda gets pregnant because Steve didn't think anyone would ever sleep with him again after his testicular cancer surgery. (He has one less testicle.)

And Charlotte is dying to get pregnant and Miranda wants an abortion. Yeah. So Carrie can't concentrate, can't even pick shoes to go out to dinner with Aidan, and finally decides to tell him.

It's a hot potato situation.

Someone hands you something and it's so big, so whatever, and you can't keep it to yourself. So you pass it on, hot potato. Do you remember playing that game as a child? You had a ball, it was just a ball, but you pretended it was a hot potato, and as soon as you got it, you threw it to someone else.

"I had him swear on Chanel" is Carrie's response when she has to tell Miranda that she told Aidan. Miranda replies, "Oh, since he took the fabric oath..." (Aidan and Steve are pals--if you haven't seen the show it's sort of hard to explain all this...)

I was really glad that Miranda decided to have the baby. Just like I was glad when Rachel decided to have Ross's baby on Friends. So it's not the best situation, the whole unwed mother thing, but hey, it's a baby. There's the scene in the doctor's office, where Miranda is sitting with Carrie and Carrie is filling out the medical forms for Miranda. And Miranda says, "Is this my baby?" And then goes into, "what if I wake up when I'm 42 and I can't have a baby?" Carrie gives her a look, and Miranda says "42 is my scary age." Carrie says, "Mine is 45."

As a single thirty five year old woman, I understand. I really think you should be at least 32 before you can watch SATC. (Sorry Sis!) But truly, the issues are not funny, they are cut me at the bone honest. But then they are funny, because they are so true.

So here is where I live, in the balance of scary and funny and true to the bone honest. Why have I decided to go to the work picnic on the day before my vacation? Because Janice is coming, and bringing her baby.

It's Friday. In a few hours, I have my last appointment with the ladies at Women's Behavioral Health. Phew! I won't have to chart my every mood (although I think I'm going to come up with some sort of my own chart, I've been finding it helpful to keep track) and I won't have to measure when I ovulate (although that's been helpful too, since ovulation signifies that you've moved into week three.) But that's what the Internet is for. Truly. What an awesome tool. (Yes, I realize I then have to ignore all the "baby hopes" stuff, but it's a TOOL. Because whether or not I'm making babies, I still have the hormones. Oh, anyways.

Songs on the radio this morning:

Saint Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go
I owe my soul to the company store (Sixteen Tons, Tennesee Ernie Ford)

Oh, I know,
That the music's fine like sparkling wine go and have your fun
Laugh and sing, but while we're apart don't give your heart to anyone
But don't forget who's taking you home, and in whose arms you're gonna be
So darlin', save the last dance for me. (Save the last dance, The Drifters)

In which Sarah Louise eschews thoughts of her vacation in favor of talking about books...

Yes, I promise more vackay pics to come. But as I am at work, manning (womanning) the Summer Reading desk, I thought it more apropos to write about books.

Kids books I am loving:

Ramona and her mother (Beverly Cleary). I somehow read most of B. Cleary but never Ramona! This year my intent was to do Ramona's World for the Mother Daughter book club, since it starts at the beginning of fourth grade (and the MD club is for fourth and fifth grade girls) but somehow I transposed the titles and so all the publicity went out saying Ramona Forever, where Ramona is in third grade and a flower girl in a wedding. Ramona is soon becoming one of my favorite literary heroines.

I just finished Ramona and her Mother, where Ramona wants to be her "mother's girl." It's one of the books for the Mother Child Smackdown, which seemed like a good idea--a quiz show format highlighting 8 books, but now it's like those 8 books are all I'm allowed to read until I come up with enough questions...

The chapter books:
Sarah Plain and Tall by Patty MacLachlan
Freaky Friday by Mary Rodgers (the audio is FANTASTIC)
Saffy's Angel by Hilary McKay (I'm actually getting tired of this wonderful book. It truly is wonderful.)
Ramona and her mother (see above)
The School Story by Andrew Clements (LOVE LOVE this book. Clements is a master. Haven't read Frindle yet, it's next on my list.)

The picture books:
A Chair for my mother by Vera B. Williams
My mama had a dancing heart by Libba M. Gray
Blueberries for Sal by Robert McCloskey.

I have decided to not do "quiz" questions for My mama had a dancing heart as it would ruin the book, kind of like when I had to do vocabulary words for A Wrinkle in Time in 7th grade. I couldn't read AWIT for seven years after that soul carving experience.

So far I have three teams signed up. I need to get prizes together n'at. It's a good challenge but I won't really know if it's worth it until after all is said and done, next Saturday (which happens to also be Bastille Day.)

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

In other news, we (the rents and moi) went to see the movie Paris J'te Aime--WOW! It seemed a little longer than two hours, it was hard to keep track of how many vignettes we'd seen, but they were all wonderful (well, Elijah Wood as vampire was my least favorite). I especially loved the last one, in which the American mail carrier fell in love with Paris. It reminded me of Carrie's love affair with New York City and how New York is the fifth character in "Sex and the City."

MTC,

Sarah Louise

You're what? (Tin roof--RUSTED!)

Tomorrow starts the library's summer hours. Which means we close at 5 on Fridays. Which means I start at 9. Which means I won't have time to blog before work tomorrow.

And it's not like I have tons to talk about, except that (this just in) there will be ONE more blushing bride this summer than expected. So, my party will be postponed until July. (Yes, the next wedding, just announced, is in two weekends, the day before my party was gonna be...)

But YAY! I get to go to the "Best Books for Babies" event sponsored by Beginning with Books on the South Side this Saturday. (Try to say that five times fast...) Thanks to Janice, who is forgoing her last day of being a soccer mom so that I can go. Thanks, Janice!!

I need to do laundry AND send some off...and pay bills. And get a haircut. And continue to stock up on small gifts...I think I forgot to get something for the shower I'm not attending this weekend. But I found something for the shower I'm not attending NEXT week, does that count? Well, um, sure. But I still need something for tomorrow's, unless I wait to gift at the event. Which I might do. Because tomorrow is DAY TWO and folks, that's not necessarily pretty. Plus, I have a cookout to go to tomorrow eve.

Plus, did I mention that my appetite hasn't stopped? Lucky for me, I have guacamole in the fridge. Hmmm...I don't think I'm getting a full night's sleep tonight...

My mother's comment when I relayed the happy news, "she's Sunny's roommate, who's getting married in two months," my mother, the one who NEVER pressures me to find a man, says, "Oh, you should move in there." Like getting a fiancé is contagious--thanks Mom.

I want them to have grandchildren. I really do. The guy on Sunday who gave the message, he's 60 and has grandchildren. My parents are 64 and going on 65. Besides, Christmas isn't fun anymore--we're all adults giving each other grown up gifts. At least when my Grandma was living, she added something to Christmas--she was very childlike her last three years of life.

I am happy to be 35. I am happy with my life for the most part. But pretty soon all my single friends are going to be married...I need a new crowd!! (And I don't really want a new crowd...I think I need some guacamole and chips and some Miranda, Carrie, Samantha, and Charlotte.)

ACK!!!

Today was a day for retail therapy. I'll fill yins in on that next time. Maybe by then I'll have figured out how to post NEW pictures. I went to Goodwill and got pants and books and after work to Targét and got shirts and paper towels.

Plunging hormones...

Mutter, mutter, complain a little...

The thing in Moon--was for academic librarians. I was THE ONLY Public Librarian there.

Then I had a tiff with my boss at the end of the day. Thank goodness for 6pm, when I said I was leaving. And I did.

And NH Sally saved me. I called and begged for leftovers and the screaming mimis were calmed by spaghetti, white wine, and girl time on the deck.

Then I went grocery shopping, and Walgreens and spent a lot of money, so it's no wonder I'm not in the best mood.

And my appetite has increased. I'm eating four meals a day. Charlotte and Miranda just had their "this baby shower is going to stink" fight. Right now Carrie and Miranda are sitting on Carrie's stoop and Miranda's talking about how she'll never be a good mother... (I heart SATC!)

There has got to be a sunny side to this all...well, I did get to go to the moon (Moon Twp, PA) today. AND I got free lunch. AND I didn't get lost going from Moon to our library.

Tomorrow I get to see my therapist, YAY! And eat at Cafe Ches Amis in Sewickley for lunch...maybe I'll take pictures...

One more picture. There are more...

Oh, she's got you running errands, you know, picking up wedding dresses... Wah-pah!

(for the rest of this hilarious sequence from Friends, go here.)

There are days like these: where all I can think about is the injustice of Big marrying the young Natasha. Or Ross marrying Emily. Or Charlotte moaning, “I’ve been dating since I was fifteen, where is he??” These are the days when I want to walk into TV-Land and live in “The one with all the wedding dresses."

Today I don’t even want a date, or even a kiss. I want division of labor. Someone else to drop off the laundry at Fluff and Fold, or another pair of eyes to help me find my watch or a clean shirt (found both, thanks!). Someone else to drop the car for an oil change and remember to tell the guy high mileage oil (I forgot.) But I did have a coupon, woo hoo!

(And if you're chomping at the bit to comment about how your hubbies don't help, save your breath. Today is not the day to mess with me!! I'm in the middle of UMS--ugly mood swings--and not to be trifled with.)

So I indulged in a little retail therapy. A new purse (some women have shoes, I have purses.) Well…I have both. But when everything feels swollen and you don’t want anyone to TOUCH you unless it’s a hug, you know better than to try on shoes at Target. So I got a new bag. Because when EE Sally called me to see if I could watch the boys in a few weeks I couldn't find my phone before it stopped ringing. And wouldn’t you know, my new bag matches my wallet. I’ll post pictures anon.

Am enjoying Much Ado about Jessie Kaplan. The mixture of planning the daughter's bat mitvah, the sister's dating life...it's fun. Although, (not that it matters, it's just interesting) Cohen seems to love using name brands for things. It's not going shopping for new glasses, it's going to William Sonoma. It's not going to pick a bra for daughter, it's going to Marshalls. (Do authors get paid for product placement?)

Oh, and tomorrow starts the next session of Mother Goose. I love the program, but it is a bear to get me to work by 9 a.m.

Sex and the city, Redux...

The weather of many hearts is stormy this week. And many blogs are quiet, as we sit either glued to the box or hugging our little ones.

The post below was written Monday morning. I have changed some of the tenses and days to match the fact that today is Thursday, but if you see one glaring out at you, glare back. When I get paid to bare my soul, I'll fix the tenses.

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

I have come back to my own broken heart. An event happened over the weekend that had me in such a funk that I didn't crawl out of bed until late Monday morning, missing my chiro appointment. Sunday night I finished a book that sort of deals with the exact issue that came crashing down over the weekend. The book only clarified the event, which actually was a series of mini-events. Part of it goes back to a post I wrote a few weeks ago, about a conversation with a friend, where I said, "it seems all of my friends are passing me by, having babies and getting married." Last night at church there were couples everywhere. Even in the empty seats, I could see the invisible women that were out of town. I was so glad to see Ralph has come back, it was great to see him for two weeks in a row. And it was great to see his girlfriend, whom I've met a few times. But it just sort of cemented in my mind, "They're passing you by..."

So the book. I'd been reading it piece meal until Sunday night, when I sat down on the couch after a McDinner and phone calls to Bro and Kiki.

Sex and the Soul of a Woman by Paula Rinehart does not badmouth Sex and the City. Thank God, and I mean God. Because I have realized over the reading of Sex and the Soul...that the premise of SATC, could women date like men, not caring, not getting entangled, was disproven by the last episode of Season Six. The show tried to show women who didn't care when men left or relationships ended, when the ceiling came crashing down, but in the end, the show exemplified that we do care. Women care deeply.

Charlotte was the best example of this, in her rush to get married to the mama's boy doctor and in the devastation after her divorce. The episode I'm thinking of is where Charlotte takes Carrie to a meeting where women have gathered to hear a bestselling author talk about her book about love and how you have to hope for love and do exercises and then love will find you. (The Secret, if you will, for love.) Charlotte stands up at the end when there is a Q&A and says, "But I've been doing all the affirmations. I've been doing all the exercises. But I still feel empty and love hasn't come to me." The author sort of condescends and says to Charlotte, "Well, maybe you just have to try harder." And Carrie gets up and says, "She has been trying. Believe me, I know." You have to imagine that Carrie's tone is sassy and brassy and ANGRY that anyone could imagine that Charlotte wasn't hoping her hardest for love, true love. I think at that point both women storm out. Or at least that sounds like a good ending. This is also the episode where Carrie is putting together a book filled with her "best" columns. The editors tell her that her dedication will set the tone. Will it be optimistic or pessimistic? And as the episode ends, and Carrie is in her cute little apartment, Carrie typing into her lap top, she dedicates the book to Charlotte, who always hopes for love.

If you're a SATC fan, you know that eventually Charlotte ends up with her short fat bald (not balding) Jewish divorce lawyer. She does find love. So does Carrie, in a sweep of the last episode, where Big finally expresses that she is "The One." So does Miranda, who after having a baby out of wedlock with Steve, gets married to him and moves to the Bronx. And Samantha, hard as nails Samantha, gets over her cancer and settles in with Smith. So a show that started with the premise, "Can women date like men?" ends with the answer, "No. Women long for the happy ending, women long to settle down with that one man that loves them, no matter what."

I wrote most of this post on Monday morning. The wind was blowing so strong I could feel it through my window frames. It was gray and blustery and I sat, in front of the screen, still in my pink cotton nightgown. I had not eaten breakfast, I merely came straight to the black box with a screen and a keyboard that in some way soothes me, as it connects me to my friends.

I am a woman. A woman with a broken heart. No, it was not broken this weekend. No, the conversation I had merely shone a light in, revealing the brokenness that remains. I have hard work still to do. I have not yet let go of the demons of past relationships. I have lived in the fantasy of my mind, building castles in the clouds.

From here on out, you're going to have to read this as something that was written Monday morning. I am not changing any more tenses or days of the week.

Let me see if I can find the passage that burns in my heart. Okay, as I turn the pages, looking for it, the first thing that hits me is last night I read over 100 pages of searing text. Because I have the memory of being on the sofa when I read page 47, and the book is over 179 pages long. You do the math, I'm trying to find that passage. I suppose I should think about breakfast, since my therapy appointment is in 59 minutes and I have to drive for 20 of those minutes.

Okay, it's a long passage. I'll try to give you the Cliff Notes.

"There is something tragic about women not being allowed to express the loss and betrayal they feel when a relationship is over...

"Unfortunately, most of us turn those potent feelings back on ourselves. We think, I need to be less sensitive. If only I could keep my heart from getting involved. There must be something wrong with me. In a culture that trivializes everything transcendent, a woman's passionate nature is a bit embarrassing, and well, somehow, bad...

"...a real, living woman with hopes and dreams, with an unveiled longing for a good man and a child to tuck in at night--what does our culture say to her? She needs to get some tear-proof mascara and a good anti-depressant.

She quotes Wendy Shalit: "Maybe it is normal for a young woman to be 'intense' and being cavalier is what is strange. Maybe wanting to forge bonds with others is normal, and it's cutting ourselves off from enduring attachments that is perverse...

Tis better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all, says the poet. Yes, I believe about the love part. I would not have traded the love part. But Sarah Louise has never felt that a man cared for her enough to be completely honest. Again and again, they have either not realized the attachment she had towards them, or they have brushed it aside, saying she was the one who changed.

There is a seventeen year old in my heart who still aches from the loss of Tony. Who in the end wasn't worth it, but tell that to my heart.

Baby, it's cold outside...AND

SNOWING! Yes, we had 75 degrees Fahrenheit on Monday and right now as I look out our picture window from the Children's Dept, cars are going a little faster than they were an hour ago (when they were inching.)

My car was covered in a thin layer of ice this morning, but the roads weren't so bad until I got to our own library parking lot.

My social calendar is just brimming over: I had two events, no, one more was just emailed to me FOR THIS EVENING. I decided that I'll go briefly [update: she stayed two hours. Briefly, my eye!] to the one where I know some folks.

Tomorrow I have TWO EVENTS too. I'm only going to one, the Women's Gathering for the OD.

I think I will make it to 7 hrs today!! [update: I DID, woo hoo!] I was late (but it was the weather's fault--it took 15 min to clean off the car) (I know, I could have planned ahead...) Well, and it took me an extra 10 minutes to get to work...but I took a short lunch...

Lunch was a feast. Is there an Irish word for that? Because the employee lounge was decked in green, the two Irish librarians (Irish descendants) were fighting in "Who can wear more green?" which they've done the past three years or so, and though there was no soda bread, the foodstuffs were great and there was even green (non-alcoholic) beer.

Okay, the real reason I was late today: I'm reading The thrill of the chaste by Dawn Eden. (She's also a blogger, hence all the links.) It's pretty captivating. Eden is a Jewish convert to Christianity and her book talks about how she realized she had to change her attitudes and actions about sexuality when she changed her beliefs. She deeply criticizes the world-view put forth by Sex and the City. (I've written on this before--it's a theme here at PS n'at, but the jury's out on whether I reject the show as far as she does*). The book is reminiscent of Lauren Winner's books Girl Meets God and Real Sex: the naked truth about chastity. Lauren has a review in Christianity Today, which speaks to some of my issues with the book, but overall, Eden's tome is a page-turner.

I guess my main beef with Eden's book is that she assumes there is one person for one person. Um, if free will is in play, then I guess I'm toast if he decided to marry someone else. And she's convinced that just because she wants to get married, she will be someday.

But other than that, she writes really well on the issue of women, sex, singleness, and Christianity and how the four come together.

I love the chapter titles, which play with words in a similar way to the (sometimes annoying) way Carrie plays with words in SATC. My copy is inaccessible at the moment, maybe I'll come back to this later. [Sex and the witty, "Meet" market, The Iniquity of My Heels: A Sole in Danger, Clothes Encounters...] One point that she made that had NEVER occured to me: if she sins in having pre-marital sex, she can ask forgiveness of God, but what of the man, if he is not a Christian. She has lured him into sin. (One of her former lovers died of cancer, unrepentant of pretty much everything.) We're so personal about sin--it's my sin, but sexual/relationship sins can bring another person down with you. Hmmm.

It's interesting reading these "I'm single and in my 30's, Christian and haven't found Mr. Right yet" books. I've read about three or four by now.

Maybe I'll write a post about how they all compare to each other. And why aren't men writing about these issues? (Have you noticed that it's not very often a single guy is moaning, "Well, I sure hope I meet Ms. Right...")

Okay, gotta go clean off my car. This post was written on Friday night and edited/added to Saturday morning, and the sky decided to dump more snow on my car overnight...

*Yes, my cell phone now rings to the "SATC" theme.

The sales figures show...

Okay, so I did an informal, unscientific tally of what topics bring the most comments. Butter dishes, apparently. (24!!)

Other high comment posts included topics such as: books, show and tell and/or any post with pictures of shoes, Ben Stiller, Jennifer Aniston (none of you seem to like her), the Psalms, dating, women, friendships, grocery shopping, movies, Sex and the City, bipolar and/or therapists, food (white vs. yellow popcorn), and my mother.

So in the hopes of bringing more readers over yon, and keeping the ones I already have, I think I'll be talking more about books, Sex and the City, and food. (Sprinkled in with some of the other stuff.)

I had thought of blogging through the Psalms, but there are 150...I suppose it could be "an occasional series" like BB's boxes.

So here goes.

Food: I have two boxes of Samoas (Girl Scout cookies) on my desk. I have just opened one box. I wonder how long it will take me to finish it? Serving size is 2 cookies--150 calories!! I've been drinking water like it's going out of style, but the Mucinex is still not...well, doing it's job. We'll leave it at that. I have the plain, 12 hrs, just Guaf. (Having a cold is not nice for the budget, btw!!)

Books: I am reading In Her Shoes. While it is not the best Jen Weiner book, it's pretty darn good. I understand why most of us have seen the movie, not read the book, but as mind candy goes, it's pretty good stuff. Oh Lordy. Good stuff? Darn good? Okay. I like this book because it deals with relationships. There are the two sisters, total opposites, the grandmother, who is trying to break out of her fears (and dating a cute senior gentleman), and then there is the cute lawyer who is crazy about Rose. Plus, there's a cameo from Cannie, the heroine from Good in Bed. I'm a little over halfway through. I bought it for 60 cents at the library bookstore yesterday when I NEEDED something to get me through the afternoon. I also bought a bag of Raisinets and a WWII Holocaust novel called Too Many Men. I'll let you know if it's any good. (The Raisinets were great!!)

Sex and the City: Last summer I learned that watching Sex and the City can be helpful if you're trying to do laundry. Because an episode of SATC lasts about the same length as a load, so you can watch an episode, hike down the four flights to the basement, flip the laundry, hike back up, and watch another one. I intend to use this method to do some housework this weekend, as I have a seminar tomorrow (at 9 am on Saturday!) (If I'm not going to work, can't it start at 10??). So tonight I'll finish my General Tso's chicken, watch some SATC, do some laundry, do some housework...and then tomorrow I think I'll finally go to Home Depot and get a check your water kit. The water from my kitchen sink has been bugging me for months, so I don't use that for drinking--it comes out strange colors, or with suds. The water in the bathroom seems fine, compared visually side by side. Then after I test the water (partially so I can report to my landlord what's in the water) I'll get a PUR faucet filter. Why PUR? Because they are supporting clean water for kids in Africa. Okay, I couldn't find the exact link, but here's an article that talks about it, sort of.

Off to refill my water glass...

Weather report brings laughter--"it'll warm up today, expect 33 degrees F": Sarah Louise catches you up on everything and much much more!

And the Post Gazette front page that is in my car's backseat says, "What happened to winter?" (It's an old front page.) (My back seat is where things go to die, and books go to become overdue.)

Sitting at the Take Care Nurse-in-a-Box two weeks ago (right before I was diagnosed with the double ear infection) I read an editor's letter in a magazine that said, "Readers reading this will be saying this was the winter that wasn't." (not an actual quote, but from memory.) You'll forgive me for tossing that magazine aside.

Yesterday we had 1-3 inches of snow in the morning. We got winter, it just was a little late.

I got more antibiotics, this time for a sinus infection. Things I learned:

• Throw out your toothbrush! (I sort of knew that.)
• Warm vaporizors are great at harboring bacteria. The cold vapor ones are the way to go. That cost me $50 yesterday. This is counter to a magazine article I read, but as seen above, magazines LIE! Nurses, however, are smart!
• This one surprised me: guaf and decongestants might actually be detrimental if you're not drinking enough liquids, because they dry you up.
  

I came home, had the lovely leftovers of General T's chicken*, lay down for a nap around 7 pm, and woke up at 11 to take my bedtime meds. I was going to do a load of laundry, but nixed that idea and went back to bed, sleeping until 7 this morning. The news tells me it's around thirteen Fahrenheit. Yahoo tells me it's about 20 degrees Fahrenheit. Duquesne Light (call for the time and temperature: 412-391-9500) says it's 16 degrees. One of these days I'll figure out how to make the degrees symbol show up (tell me if you know, in the comments?).

I have no committment to be at work until 1 pm, but since I was all petered out at 3:45 yesterday, the plan is to go in today 9ish or 10ish (I'm not rushing!!). I was actually at work for six hours yesterday--a veritable record!! (I worked four hours on Tuesday.)

The Pens might go to Vegas? What would they be, the Las Vegas Pens? I mean, blech!!! I had planned to go see them at the Igloo (yes, the Mellon Arena) this season but it hasn't happened yet...

Oh, and Happy International Women's Day!!

And since my last post, folks have been clamoring for other bipolar symptoms.

So here's a "Could it be Bipolar?" test sponsored by Seroquel, a drug used for bipolar disorder. The last bipolar book I took out of the library (I don't even remember the name, it was that bad) was written by a doctor who was convinced that most of the population of NYC has bipolar to some degree. That Bill Clinton exhibited bipolar leanings. And a number of other people. Forgive me for not remembering--the book was trash!! The book sort of glorified the manic portion of what used to be called manic depression. As long as it was hypo-manic (the energetic feeling you get before it's really dangerous), use it. Well, if you have bipolar, you sort of know that, and that is when you clean the house, but seriously, if it goes to manic, then you get the "what goes up must go down"--depression!! The higher the high, the downer the down.

That pause was a call from my work-a-holic mom. Yes, she has a two hour delay, but she was calling me from the school parking lot. "It's like a gift of two hours!" I am grateful for Mary, over at My Vast Veranda**, for showing me that teachers do and can have actual lives. Over the weekend, my mother crowed, I work and then it gives me more energy to do more (extra stuff) (work). She claims it's because there's no one to do stuff with (that she puts so much into her work.) I cannot fix my mama. It's really good that I'm NOT living down there right now. I told her, I'll come down to VA and make you play Scrabble with Daddy!! No one in that house communicates with each other. I go home and stir the pot. Yeah, I think I'll stay up here in Pittsburgh for a while. My need to FIX THINGS could really get out of hand if I moved down there right now.

For the first time in YEARS, I don't have a crush. It's sort of a bizarre feeling, but I feel good. (Although, the first coupla weeks were HELL, as folks that I email to can attest.) I had hoped something might happen with the guy I met at the Jubilee dinner (from Annapolis) but there was nothing on his end, no "What's your phone number," or "Gosh, I hope to see you when you come down to see your Mom in a few weeks." Which I didn't. Sunday, I went to the fellowship where I had initially met him and he was nowhere. Oh well. And at breakfast, Friday, with one of my truth-teller friends, Sasha, when I told her about playing "Dutch Bingo" with the guy when I saw him at Jubilee, she said, no, that just means God is telling you there are guys out there. Oh. So I don't think I'm heading for lifelong singlehood, if God is telling me there are guys out there, but WHERE IS HE***???

Anyways.

Hmm.

So.

So, it's International Women's Day? What will YOU do to celebrate? bobbie, of Emerging Sideways, one year celebrated by giving her and her daughter red plates (a celebratory tradition in their house.) I think I'll celebrate by GOING TO WORK for seven hours!! I think I could actually do it! Be home to watch the Office? Hey, it sounds kind of fun...

*My local Chinese restaurant is great: for about $6, I get tea, soup or egg roll, water, and an entree. AND, the portions mean I get two meals. Chinese for lunch, Chinese for dinner. YUM.

**Okay, a bad choice for a post to show that teachers have lives. But she has time to blog. And she has pets. And if you read this, you'll see she has time to read, and watch TV, two things my mother doesn't do. (Gee, do I have issues with my mother loving her job?) My mother works 24/7. I-am-not-kidding. (It actually reminds me of my father, when he was fixing the economy in Poland, in the early nineties. Hmm, do you think work-a-holism can be contagious?)

***(Charlotte, from SATC. The actual full quote is: "My hair hurts. I've been dating since I was fifteen. I'm exhausted. Where is he?")

Have they lost their minds?

Trying something--to see if Blogger will let the title be underlined so folks know it's a clickable link...

I wonder if I have. I was yelling at Kleenex boxes, railing over the radio wasteland, and making so much noise that my darling sister came to find out what was wrong. She diagnosed it correctly: PMS.

"Do you want a hug?" I did.

Yesterday was a full day. Hard work, too. Sis and I went to our favorite used CD store (which now sells used DVDs) and we each spent an hour picking and then sorting to get to what we would actually buy. I never go shopping extensively at home (in da Burgh) because, well, it's more fun to GO with someone. We spent most of our money at the CD Cellar, and so our next stop was a nice sized thrift shop, the Clocktower. I got a great coat (well, my mother calls it a jacket, because of its length) for $4 (it was 50% off).

Then we went to the drug store, b/c I didn't plan ahead for this trip in terms of cold remedies. And since what I had is a Walgreens label item, I couldn't find its twin at Eckerd. I wanted Guaf+Pheno-whatever and I could only find this with Dexo (a cough suppressant) (which, I guess I did need, but I was trying to get less drugs, not more!) So I finally got a Tylenol product that had all of the above and some Tylenol, which I needed, as my head was pounding (probably from my congested sinuses).

Then we got home, and I had to admit to my mother that I didn't have any dressy clothes (our plan was a French restaurant for dinner and then the new movie, Amazing Grace.) She lent me a jumper, a turtleneck, a half slip, and nylons. Oh, and a lovely necklace.

My dad was late coming home from the funeral of a former co-worker's wife, and the tension was palpable. I took a nap (or tried to) anyways.

Dinner was nice, the movie was WONDERFUL, and by the time we were done, I was more than exhausted. I mean, shopping, dinner, a movie, that's a weekend for me, MAYBE. Not ONE DAY!! Little Miss Introvert needed some down time, and unfortunately, while sleep does accomplish that to some degree, it does not fully.

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

The title link is to an article from Christianity Today, about how folks criticize their reviews. It prompted me to write this post, in which I defend what some might think are poor viewing choices. Most of the movie links are CT reviews, except for the SATC, which is from Christian Century.

But I really want to talk about movies. Not Amazing Grace, which was wonderful. I want to talk about Hollywood--the Hollywood I love. And if I love it, I cannot turn a blind eye to its flaws, but admit that we live in Rome. Rome was full of people living reckless, decadent lives. I probably should read more about Rome before I use it as a comparison point, but this is today's post...

What I'm trying to say (badly, I admit) is that there are a lot of movies out there that I love. That I cringe to say that I love, to a degree, because I don't agree with the all the morals portrayed within.

The Holiday: Cameron Diaz's character gets drunk and propositions a man she has just met (who turns up at her doorstep because he's drunk and her doorstep is actually his sister's, as Kate Winslet and Cameron Diaz's characters have swapped homes for two weeks.) But what follows is an honest look at relationships and what role fear plays in staying or leaving. So I can't throw out this movie just because its characters make decisions I might not make.

Sex and the City (yes, it's come to this): I do not condone Samantha's, Charlotte's, Miranda's, and Carrie's promiscuity. But they are honest about life, (even if their wardrobes lie) and the plight of unmarried women. And their ultimate choices are good ones. This is not a show that you can watch one episode and make a snap judgement on. More to come on this.

The Sweetest Thing: I am embarrased to say I loved this movie. I bought it for 77 cents at the library bookstore and have watched it at least five times. It is lewd, it is horrible. But it is FUNNY. Again, it is honest about the life of the single woman.

Because I said so: EVERYONE panned this. The Christian critics and the non-Christian ones: Stay home, was their mantra. I loved this movie. I laughed more than I have at a movie in a long time, and the best part (yes, a SPOILER) was the cake falling on the guy's head at the end of the movie. Mandy Moore slept around (with two men) and her mom at long last found love. But Moore's character was the most self-assured single woman I have seen on the silver screen for a long time. A single woman who taught classes at the senior center on how to cook gourmet for one? I need to take that class (says the woman who eats frozen food most nights of the week.)

Other movies that fall into this category (movies about unmarried women):

• West Side Waltz (a real think piece...very good!)
• Wedding Bell Blues
• Picture Perfect
• While you were sleeping
  
  My point: (did I have one?) if I only went to movies like Amazing Grace, I would go to the movies once a year.
  
  I am 35, so many years beyond the rating system (PG-13, R, etc.). I do not have young children. I am old enough to know what my decision is regarding the sexual morés of the day: post-marital sex. But that is a decision I made after a lot of broken hearts and a lot of soul searching. It is not a decision I made based on the movies. I don't make decisions based on the movies. The movies are entertainment. I may learn something, but that is not the reason I go to the movies. I know the difference between real life and Hollywood.
  
  Thankfully, I can say, "I choose to watch this." Or not. I finally have given up on Crossing Jordan, which, now that NBC has quietly laid to rest Studio 60, (or not, see link) there's really nothing for me to watch on TV. I like mysteries, and I enjoy the whodunit qualities of CJ, but the shock value is going too far for me, and I don't like that Australian journalist that keeps showing up as a love interest for Jordan.
  
  So that's today's soap box.
  
  All that to also say this: we each need to know our weaknesses. My mom hates any movie that has extra-marital affairs. She did not allow me to watch soap operas in high school. So I watched at friend's houses. (I don't think that's what she meant, and I knew it...)
  
  A lot of people I know (why do we live our lives based on the opinions of others, or write entire posts defending our taste?) will not watch Desperate Housewives or Sex and the City because of the immoral lifestyles portrayed therein. I have only seen like three episodes of DH, so I can't comment there. I don't turn a blind eye, but rather say, there are pieces of this that are wonderful. I do not want to be Carrie. I have been in her shoes in some ways, in my twenties. I would never want to relive that heartache that comes from misunderstandings about sexual relationships. But I also can see sex as a metaphor. In so many movies (which are a standard two hours to signify two years or two decades) a kiss is a metaphor for "we have gotten to know each other."
  
  I can't read bodice ripper romance novels. Which is why I love chick lit--there's still the romance, but less sex. I love Hiassan, but I can't read his mysteries for adults. Which is why I hope he continues to write more like Hoot, which I loved. (I'm looking forward to reading Flush)
  
  It's my blog. I get to ramble about what I want to, and it doesn't have to be in good taste or grammar or well written.
  
  Oh, and I watched Vanity Fair (Reese Witherspoon)--it was a visual candy store!! Am now reading my sister's copy of the book. Has anyone seen Monsoon Wedding (the same director)?

So I skipped church. I'm going tonight (which is what I'd do if I was in Pgh) and the 'rents will be home momentarily from Sunday School. Sis and I have both had nutritious (albeit frozen) lunches.

Open Letters

Dear Madison Avenue (and all the advertisers you represent):

I am so sick of hearing about debt-loss, weight-loss, and online dating. Give it a rest. Stop telling us about new cars as we contemplate how to get over our addiction to foreign oil. Stop telling us about how diamonds will make our relationships mean more. Do you think the gaining diamonds and new cars might have something to do with why there are so many commercials for debt-loss and online dating?? Please, we want a great taste test campaign, which is better, Coke or Pepsi (while Pepsi wins on taste tests, Coke wins in the long run!!), or a "Where's the Beef" campaign like Wendy's ran in the mid-eighties. Give us something to laugh about. We'll return the favor by drinking Cokes and going to Wendy's.

Yours,

Sarah Louise

Dear the rest of the world:

Don't tell Madison Ave that I don't need commercials for Coke or Wendy's, since I buy their stuff anyways.

Yours,

Sarah Louise

Dear man at the party the other night:

No, I do not want to date an a--hole or a bastard without guts. I don't think those are my only choices. I think there is another alternative and while he seems to be an endangered species in the wild, I have met the married version: a godly man who balances confidence with humility. I will give you this: when you're dating a jerk, you know he likes you, because he generally treats all other people like crap. When you date and/or are scoping out a nice guy, you have to figure out if he likes you because he's nice to everyone. So while I prefer nice guys, there is less confusion on that particular issue if he's a jerk.

Yours,

Sarah Louise

To the women of the Open Door,

You missed an amazing day at the Women's Gathering. What, honestly, (besides a babysitting job with twin four year olds) was more important than hanging out, chilling with your chicks, hearing someone talk honestly about being a woman, not wanting to lead, but doing it anyways. Hello, I took a vacation day. Katrina took a vacation day. Honeys, I hoard those like GOLD. I will not not work on a Saturday unless it is for GOLD. This was gold, much fine gold, and honey on the comb.

I laughed a lot. If anything, you missed hearing me laugh, all morning. You missed amazing worship. And the food--for $20 bucks, I got all that teaching, hanging out, plus breakfast, lunch, and afternoon tea. (Have you been to a restaurant lately? You can drop $20 easily on just drinks and tapas!) The chicken salad was amazing. Bellefield's basement wasn't Mrs. K's, but the company of women made up for that. As women, we need these role models. We need to have the conversations about milk vs. meat. We need to talk about how Sex and the City offers a great example of comraderie with women but a poor example about how to live a dating life. We need to have those conversations where we talk about what our gifts are and how we think they aren't important and have someone say, yes, yes they are. We need all those hugs. We are a young church, ladies, and we need the wisdom of women that have grandchildren. Um, you ain't gonna get that at the Open Door, at least not yet. You missed out, and I mourn that decision of yours.

However, I had a blast. I laughed, I cried, it was better than Cats. I sang out, I searched my soul, I encouraged friends, I met new people. I learned how to talk like a Southerner:

• "Scared as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs."

I learned that the antithesis of the Proverbs 31 woman is the Proverbs 7 woman. And I was reminded that the Proverbs 31 woman was imagined up by a MOTHER, giving advice to her son on what to look for in a wife. So of course she's perfect!! (Yins with MIL's can talk about that one amongst yourselves...)

I learned that if Jesus says "Go fishing" you should bring tartar sauce, because there's gonna be a feast. And we laughed over a carpenter giving advice to a fisherman, that the paraphrase of vs. 5 was "Man, you are a carpenter and I am a fisherman, I know all about fish and there is nothing there to catch, but if you say so..."

I learned that a great follower is a leader who hasn't accepted the promotion.

I heard poetry, which I'll share with you:

• "allow poetry to slip in the back door." (William Stafford)
• "He moves your bones and the way is clear." (Wendell Berry)
• and one by Kathleen Norris that I didn't write down...
  

I learned that all women are alike in this: we worry about our hearts and our friends. We get lonely and we get loved. We own lots of shoes. And I re-learned this one: women go to the bathroom together. If you thought going to relieve your bladder was going to give you one second alone, that one second was going down the back stairway. I shed tears. And I remembered, as my tears hit the bathroom floor, that God keeps each one in a bottle.

I re-learned that in Pittsburgh, it's not six degrees of separation, it's one, or 1/2. ("I know your church has 2000 members, but do you know so and so?" "Oh yes!")

And then I re-learned something about myself: if I'm with friends, I can stay out late. (Yes, little miss introvert, after a day with 200 women and some time at home deciding WHAT to wear for a birthday party, went out for tapas at 8 pm and stayed until 11 pm, when she went to the Sharp Edge for a Mystery Brew and some Mediterranean Nachos. We stayed there until 12:20, A.M.!)

Think about it. If you are single, after graduation there isn't one occasion where people celebrate you ...

... Hallmark doesn't make a "congratulations, you didn't marry the wrong guy" card. And where's the flatware for going on vacation alone? (Sarah Jessica Parker, as Carrie Bradshaw, Sex and the City)

My mother announced at lunch yesterday (the second lunch we were having in my birthday's honor) that she doesn't know another person that milks their birthday more than I do. Well, hey. I believe in having fun, what's wrong with that? I haven't had a wedding, or a shower. I haven't had a baby, or a shower. It's just me. I haven't had a Valentine from someone besides a girlfriend or my dad for many years. I'm not complaining--just stating the facts. So if folks are going to humor me with celebration when I turn the years, I'll let them!

So this week: Tuesday is the day. Wednesday I have dinner with Kelly at IKEA (she lives in Steubenville, Ohio, so Robinson is half way for both of us.) Thursday, Sally and I will take my Mad Mex coupon (free entree for the birthday person!) for lunch. Friday, the Tech Serv dept at work will join me for lunch at Chili's.

This will be the first birthday without Susan. Our birthdays are five days apart, so she'd call me on my day and I'd call her on hers.

Amy Grant turned 46 yesterday--Happy Birthday!

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

(Madonna)

Went to the Sharp Edge after church. (Yes, you gotta love a church who considers a bar the best place to hang out afterwards.) At one end of the table, a guy was pouring his heart out to two other women about this girl he's not sure if he's interested in. "But what if I spend more time with her and she likes me but as I spend more time with her I become less interested? I don't want to hurt her."

I was not a part of this conversation but my advice would have been, "you'll never know until you try, and eventually if she's smart, she'll figure out when you're not into her."

You know, a date is a date. And it accomplishes something--you learn more about that person. And more, you learn how that person acts with you, something you will not get if you only spend time in group settings with that person--people tend to show different colors in the one on one situation. I think it's much kinder to go on a date and discover you have nothing in common and just don't go on more dates with that person!! than to "hang out" and create a false sense of security. It's cowardly, actually. Believe me, it hurts more.

And a lot women won't outright ask for a date. They may ask you to "hang out" but as far as a meal or a movie, they'll leave that to your department.

So, for all my male readers, (all three?) go for it. Just ask her out. Even if you have a disastrous first date and discover you have nothing in common, you will be able to move on. All this analyzing with your female friends will get you nowhere. Except that you'll order more beers.

I've been on a lot of first dates. And by the end of the evening, one or both of us realized there would probably not be a second one. Totally fine. If you want a second date, go for it. If not, move on. Believe me, you'll be happier in the end.

She awoke to the hum of the furnace and could feel the warmth in the air. Clank clank went the radiators. Her heart sang. IT'S FRIDAY!!!

Perhaps my "not liking blogging" is due in part to the fact that it has been a point of connection for me and right now I do not feel very connected. I feel like the neverending loop in my head is, "Was it me? Was it something I said? Was it something I did? Tell me, so I can make it better! Break the silence, I can't stand this anymore!"

Relationships are the most important thing in my life. When Em and I talk about where we would want to get married, she thinks about the qualities of a building and I think about Bellefield, where I have so many relationships--I couldn't imagine getting married anywhere else. I don't use this as a "singleness" moment but just as an illustration of HOW relational I am.

The piece I'll start re-working come January, the piece that will be submitted as portfolio for the Carlow MFA in writing program, is all about relationships. What happens when best friends get other friends, and/or boyfriends and what happens when things fall apart.

So, I was intrigued by the following book, the Myth of You & Me by Leah Stewart. I wanted so much to love it. It has a photo on the cover of two hands holding, one gloved in red, one not. The premise is this: Cameron lives with her employer, a literary critic who is dying. One day she gets a letter from her estranged best friend from high school and college, Sonia, who is getting married. Cameron does not want to deal with the letter, much less respond to it. (Play some dramatic music here.) Eventually, Oliver dies, and his bequest to Cameron is a package that must be delivered in person to Sonia as a wedding gift.

So in what turns out to be a wild goose chase, Cameron leaves Oliver's house in search of Sonia. This is where it gets a little too convoluted. We meet Sonia's co-workers, ex-boyfriends, Cameron's ex-boyfriends...it's a little too much. When Cameron does finally find Sonia, Sonia says, "I wondered if you would really come," as if Sonia meant for the goose chase, which (my supposition based only on the text) she probably did not.

The gift, once opened (I know, spoilers, but the CONCEPT of this book is better than the book, trust me on this one) is a letter to Cameron (yes, not a wedding gift for Sonia, as we had been led to believe) telling Cameron that he, Oliver, is a imposter. He had the same birthday as a guy he met in the army? and (I care so little that I'm not going to go back and re-read it) and so when that guy died, that guy's aunt took fake Oliver in and said, "Do you want to be Oliver?" Which meant he had to eschew everything from his old life, including Billie, his once amour (who was barely mentioned in the beginning, but Cameron has been carrying around a photo of this woman). It was so anti-climactic--like Oliver was the most selfish bastard, I'm dead, my wedding gift to your friend is really for you, it is my true identity.

Here I'm hoping to read insight into the reunion of these friends who have crossed each other in the worst ways possible (sleeping with almost fiances and leaving the other in the middle of Texas at a gas station) that love does conquer all. I get that, but Oliver's story is distracting. I felt cheated.

***********

I had a friend. I chose the wrong airport, I didn't pay her back right away, and seventeen years are gone. (Of course, it is never that simple.) I had a friend. We met every week for coffee. Now there is a silence I don't know how to broach. I had a friend. I cut it off because I realized I was getting too close in an unhealthy manner. Relationships are HARD work. But for me they are the most important work I'll have this side of glory. I want to do the work. I had a friend. She stopped coming to work. We used to eat lunch every week. I don't know how she is. I had a friend. She got engaged and then he dumped her. We usually talk every other day on our cell phones. I haven't talked to her since Friday night. She called last night and I just did the uh huh, uh huh, even when she was talking about my birthday party.

There is a line from About A Boy (the book, not the movie) that sums this up for me: in the opening sequence, Fiona, Marcus's mother has just broken up with her current boyfriend, just before the pizza was delivered. Marcus ponders,

"He didn't think he'd ever get used to this business. He had quite liked Roger, and the three of them had been out a few times; now apparently, he'd never see him again. He didn't mind, but it was weird when you thought about it. He'd once shared a toilet with Roger, when they were both busting for a pee after a car journey. You'd think that if you'd peed with someone you ought to keep in touch with them somehow." (Nick Hornby: About a Boy, p. 1-2)

I guess that's the way I feel about it, in a litany of moments shared with different friends: I borrowed eggs to bake a cake. I borrowed your hairdryer the morning mine broke. I was there the day your child was born. I talked you through chemo. We walked your dogs in Frick Park. I listened night after night as you told me about your fiance. And today, if I called you on the phone, what would we talk about? We live our lives next to each other and then one day we change and we forget to tell each other.

I miss you. Not you, one person, but the plural you, all of you. I do. I realize I may never see you again, it will never be the same again, but I wish that it could be. I wish that it could be different, if that would make it possible for us to live our lives together again.

Go hug someone. Don't drive home alone in the rain singing along with Cyndi Lauper. Pull over, use that cell phone, and call someone you miss, someone that may very well be missing you. Go! I'll be here (and all of a sudden I burst into song) "when the day is new, and I'll be dah duh and you'll have things you'll want to talk about, I will too." (Lyrics courtesy Fred Rogers.)

And I just visited BTS where BB is not only perking along with her novel but dazzling us all with perfect posts. She's gonna be famous--wait, she already is!

*********

Oh and in other news, I really gotta do laundry, pay the bills, and do the dishes. None of which will move me forward in the relationship arena...if I think that all my relationships are outside this drafty garett. But if I remember that the most important relationships ARE right here, I'd think that taking care of me is pretty darn important. Darn, how could I have forgotten that, so quickly?

I'm not home, but my shoes are. Leave them a message.

(Sarah Jessica Parker, as Carrie Bradshaw in Sex and the City)

As requested, here is my latest acquisition in the shoe department:




This is a significant moment in the building of my wardrobe: my first pair of high heels. I've always figured I was tall enough, I didn't need high heels. But I think I must have watched Carrie Bradshaw run in her heels on too many episodes of Sex and The City, and these were less than 3 bucks at Red White and Blue!!

I've worn them once, so far--to Terzo's baptism. And since I've been ice skating, my ankles are stronger, so I did pretty well for someone who has never owned a pair of heels until now!

Dear dear people

So I am up, now.

Serves me right for falling asleep to Bill Moyers at 9:45ish.

There is a dear woman in my Bible study right now. She is so dear to me because she married a man that I knew from a Bible study I was in right after grad school. A man that was (yes) too young for me (always robbing the cradle, that SL) and still getting his feet wet as far as his faith went. I saw him go through many a girlfriend and never liked a one. I thought it was sour grapes. But I sit next to her sometimes and when she talks about the inheritance we have in Christ, I think, he got a good one, he did. There is something so precious about that...I don't have words.

I wonder about the tests that have my name on them and wonder which ones I'll have final exams on in this fall.

I quipped to Kelly at dinner, "oh, speed dating, like when you think you're....oops, nope!" (She was comparing courting hospitals for residencies to speed dating.) The problem with me is that I take that moment of nuance, that it seems like it might be something but is really non-speed dating and then obsess about it for MONTHS, years, even, afterwards. The other party has moved on and I'm still turning over what I could have said differently.

I feel very Carrie Bradshaw-esque right about now...

Frank is crooning right now, "You make me feel so young."

I have no idea if we're doing Show and Tell this week (I missed last week) but I promise to post fall photos tomorrow morning. I have had three social scenarios for tomorrow morning and the jury isn't out on what I'm doing at noon so I have decided to hibernate and work on this garret of mine, perhaps find that pesky library book that someone has been waiting for since mid-September. Where is it???

Now Petula is singing "Don't sleep in the subway, darling" and I think it's time for a dose of Hollywood's best sleeping pill: "You've Got Mail."

G'nite.

The first problem for all of us, men and women, is not to learn, but to unlearn.

(Gloria Steinem)

How true. BJ spoke this week on our second practice (okay I'll back up a minute.)

The OD currently does not have "official membership." Which we need in order to become an "official church" in the Pittsburgh Presbytery. A lot of Emergent churches have practices (kind of like Benedict's Rule) and so our steering team (this mysterious group of planners) has come up with the following:

• Listening
• Learning
• Eating
• Encouraging
• Giving

So far we've gone over listening and learning in sermon format and next week (the timing!) is our communion Sunday when we eat together before the service, so there you go. BJ has also been hosting dinners at his house to discuss that week's sermon. I missed the first two because I had a previous dinner engagement and last week I was completely burned out. I was supposed to go see someone play Bill Cosby (a storyteller, who also plays various baseball players) but my life sort of exploded last Wednesday. Enough about me, though.

Where was I? Oh yes, BJ has been hosting dinners. So I'm going this week, and I've reminded a few people (BJ told us to!).

On learning and unlearning: this is my season to learn about friendship. I love the line that Carrie says at the very end of the season finale of Sex and the City: (it's a long one...)

Carrie: Later that day I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous.

I remember going out with this one guy to the movies. He said, "I like going to the movies with you." It was a true compliment coming from someone, like me, who was used to going to the movies by himself. I am now used to going ice skating by myself, as I have done it twice now. (This week, at the very same Igloo where Mario Lemieux and company played so many games...) For years I longed to have someone to walk with in the morning and now I am grateful that I can walk alone with my CD player and take fabulous pictures like the one below.

But gradually and suddenly, my life became infused with all these wonderful people (I guess it sort of crept up on me) and now I long for more time with friends. My life isn't really cut out for it: I work two evenings/week and every Saturday except when I take a day off. So now I'm learning how to balance more friends and unlearning how to be a loner and yet learning how to be alone without being lonely.

It's a lot to learn, and sometimes I feel like an absolute dork. But let me tell you, the payoffs are amazing.

the one where Sarah Louise loves the one where...

So I came home and to my delight, baseball wasn't on, Sex and the City was! And now that I've seen the HBO goodbye montage, I knew that Berger was going to break up with Carrie on a Post-It, so today I got to see the episode where it happened and the episode where she got over it.

THEN, when things couldn't have been getting any better (five points if you do the Chandler voice), Friends was "The one with all the Wedding Dresses." Probably one of my top five favorite episodes. I haven't laughed like that and clapped my hands and laughed and clapped for a long time.

Oh it feels good to laugh.

I'm going to a charity event tonight. The tickets (plural) (two) are comps because I volunteered last year. I remember thinking then, this is cool, but I'd rather be with someone. Yeah. I wish that tonight too, but everyone (and I mean everyone) had other plans. Yeah, them too. Yep, asked her. Yes, asked him.

I generally do not mind going alone.

I go to movies alone. I go out to dinner alone. I go to First Fridays alone. I go to parties alone. But this is an event where I will probably know no one. And while watching a movie is something that doesn't really involve someone in the seat next to you (which is why I do not advocate it for first or second dates), and sitting in a restaurant alone can be fixed nicely with a book, going to a charity function where most people have paid the entry fee can be a little daunting. Especially when you have cajoled your single male friends almost to the point of embarassment and know you will have to face them at some point in the future. (Ugh.) Especially since last year I only saw one person I knew. (I'll have you know I just deleted three extremely catty but hysterically funny sentences.)

(You never know who reads this, and besides, I wouldn't want people talking about me that way...am I too nice to be comic?)

So I'll get dolled up and I'll have fun. It is, after all, the event of the year. And I'm getting in FREE! It starts at 9, so I even actually have time to watch Murderball, which is overdue at the library, with 18 holds. If you're one of those people waiting, I'll return it Monday, I promise!

Oh, and if you're looking for a great chick-lit mystery, Size Twelve isn't Fat is a wonderful choice. Meg Cabot is a writing genius. I hope she never stops writing. (Wasn't it only seven years ago I was saying that about Elinor Lipman?)

Anyways, Happy Father's Day, everyone.

The update post and some thoughts about friendship (it's the perfect blendship)

The title's clickable. I haven't figured out the code (Babs?) on that yet. You might get a lovely pop-up, and for that I'm sorry, but hey, it's the Internet, folks. It's a html-java jungle out there.

I woke up this morning after having the same dream twice. It was the cinematic ending of a book (in my dream, cuz in real life I've never read him) by Don DeLillo, called The Road. Oh, it was a dream, it would be too complex to explain. Anyways, that's not what got me off the sofa and to the keyboard right away.

Oh, you want the update?

Wait a second, or scroll down.

My friends are the most important thing to me. Why? Because, honey, they were all I had for a long time. I went off to college and my folks went to Poland. Hello? As in six time zones away, phone calls that cost a dollar a minute, and me, sitting in the hall at the phone booth (the room phones didn't work for international calls) praying I'd get through. We're talking I'd get the message, "I'm sorry, all circuits are full. Please try your call later." Before and after I became a Christian, I just prayed. "Please God, this time!" I didn't pay attention to the polite lady with her "I'm sorry"'s. I dialed again. And again. And again. And sometimes, after dialing eighteen times, I'd get through. I talked to my folks once a week with a short laundry list of business items. So my friends, through the magic of the phone in my room or the postal service (Lorelei and I wrote so often that we had to number our letters--sometimes we'd send 3 in one day) were my lifeline. For the first semester at least, I had mail EVERY SINGLE DAY. God bless Sir Roland Hill (my ancestor, the one who thought up the penny postage stamp.)

I didn't have a boyfriend. I didn't have college friends until my second semester freshman year. I couldn't go home for laundry. My high school friends were it. They kept me afloat, literally. Both of them are married now, and with one or two children. We write less frequently, and for a while, used the phone only for birthdays. Then I got a cell phone. You know, free long distance? Oh, baby! I was talking to Boston on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday.... and of course, as with all my married-with-children friends, the phone calls were full of "Come inside" or "Can you see I'm on the phone?" etc. Which I'm totally fine with. Because if the kids come with that package, I'd rather have that than have no package.

I'm still single (and pretty happy with it, for the moment). But I still need my friends, although my parents and I are closer now (we talk at least four times a week). Because in the meantime, I developed this mental health issue that is sometimes scary. And it helps to talk about life. (Enter friends.) But in the meantime, most of my girlfriends are married. I had a conversation with one of them yesterday, another Sally (how can I keep them all straight?). She said, "You know, I don't have any high school friends anymore. I mean, they live near here, but we don't keep in touch. And our college friends have reunions every once in a while, but Joe and I rarely go." Which is why I woke up with this urge to write. It's no sense calling up Sally and saying, "Hello, you got married right out of college, so you've always had Joe, plus the kids, and you live your marriage out in the same neighborhood where you went to high school."

Hey, that is wonderful. But I'm Carrie. (The single part, the girlfriends part. I haven't had a kissing boyfriend in eight years, so don't get me started.) I don't have the house, the husband, the 2.5 children. I respect the h-e-double hockey sticks out of anyone that does. I just haven't met anyone yet that I wanted to spend my life with, besides my girlfriends.

In my frantic search on Sunday to find the poem (do a search on my blog search for List Friday--it's not up anymore b/c it was tres personal), I found an old card from Lorelei. It said, "I'm glad you're a forever friend." We haven't spoken since I got back from my trip to New England. I've sent her a few emails, but that's our speed right now. I think she sometimes reads this. Maybe I'll email it to her. It is always a red letter day in the Sarah Louise household when I get a letter in her penmanship that has LKM in the return address area. (Yes, she uses her initials.)

In the meantime, I'm mourning the loss of Boston. I had no idea I would be so homesick while at the PLA conference, translating into probably one of the worst weeks I've ever had, and it had to happen while I was visiting my other high school friend. Somethings you can't control. I refuse to live in the "well, if only I had..." because that week was drenched in prayer. It was also drenched in my own brokenness. Which was the straw that broke the friendship. Which I'm mourning the loss. (Did I split an infinitive there?)

It's gonna take some time. Carole King can sure write some songs: "It's gonna take some time, this time/To get myself in shape/I really fell out of line this time/I really missed the gate/The birds on the telephone line (next time)/Are crying out to me (next time)/And I won't be so blind next time/And I'll find some harmony." (Using italics reminds me I still haven't blogged about Patricia Machlachlan. I also have a post on the letter P in the works.)

Oh, you want the update? Okay, so my gyn. called me yesterday and said I have a small cyst (2 cm), which probably will resolve itself. (We're so cyst-y, women are!) If I want to go ahead right away with the lacroscopic deal, I can. Or I can wait 6-8 weeks and get another sonogram (my bladder is giving me the silent treatment) and THEN decide if I want to do the lacroscopic deal. Oh yes. I like that. If we have the luxury to take this slow, let's take it slow. Meantime, I can find out how much the lacroscopic deal costs and if my insurance covers it. Oh, and I can stop taking the contraceptives. YAY! Because frankly, I am sick and tired of breakthrough bleeding. (Of course, I would have liked to have had that conversation BEFORE I spent $35 on the Seasonale pack, but hey, it upped my Fuel Perks.) I've started taking fish oil again (it's good for so many things, one of them being cramps) and I'm incorporating more veggies into my life. Yes, it's time that Sarah Louise takes control of what goes in her mouth--less Wendy's, more Whole Foods.

And because when I googled Fuel Perks, this wikipedia article came up, a little Giant Iggle history.

Because it takes a giant to make life simple...

I'll be here all week. Oh, and I'll be commenting on that post that says you don't have to post every day. No, I do. I'm a writer. Some day I'll be working on the novel and maybe I'll stop blogging or blog less frequently, but right now, yes, I have to post every day. I don't care if I'm clogging the blogosphere. (More on that later. My bladder gave up on the silent treatment.)