Friendship, it's a perfect blendship...

When I was a girl (that sounds so weird, but I AM 35) I read a book. It might have been called Best Friends. It was unfortunately weeded from my collection at one point. (Darn the transient life of a diplomat's daughter--my mother paid me 50 cents for every trash can filled.) The story went something like this: the two girls were close and then the one girl moved and gained new friendships. The left behind girl (it was in the same town, so they still went to the same school, I think) couldn't understand. The girl who moved said, "I don't have best friends anymore, I like having more than one friend." Eventually the left behind girl understood, gained new friends of her own, and they all lived happily ever after. I miss that book.

I've been doing a lot of thinking about friends lately. Well, and there's been a lot to think about.

Do I cling? Do I cause folks to run for the hills? (Probably--hyper-loneliness does that.)

Do others cling? Do I run for the hills from them? (Oh yes!) (Did I mention I'm an introvert?)

What of relatives--how do you keep the relationships going in between the weddings and funerals? (Not an easy one.)

What place does money come in? If you have parties where people can buy things, does that scare them from accepting the invitation? Or do the people who come buy out of guilt? Or, do they happily buy because they needed what your party offered and they didn't have another venue for such purchases? (It's a mixed bag.)

How do you build a relationship with Ms. 2nd floor? One safety pin at a time, it seems. She called and didn't leave a message (Thank you, Caller ID) and when she called to return my call, it was to see if I had safety pins. Which I did.

I am not the perfect friend. I am an enigma. I have been hurt from the day that I realized Sheila stole things from me in first grade. A necklace, a bouncy ball. I have been the victim more often than the aggressor, but I have been known to ignore someone until they gave up trying. I also have been known to think that I have ruined something just because someone took three days to answer an email. I HATE conflict. I hate thinking I've been ignored or abandoned. I can be very high maintenance in this department. (See above, running for the hills...)

The trick, (if there is one) is to find the healthy friends. The people you like spending time with. Because you read the same books, or go to the same church. Because you both share a love for cows. The people who make you care, make you laugh. The people who live in your neighborhood. Whatever. But what you want is someone who will give and take. Granted, they sometimes will take more than their share, and you may find yourself giving way too much. (Ding! Ding!) My mother would say "It's like chips and dip: they don't always even out."

But I find the Camus quote on my bathroom wall a good ruler: Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow. Don't walk behind me, I may not lead. Walk beside me and be my friend.

We all need space, every once and a while. It is up to us (the spaced out or the left out) to figure out when to build a bridge. It may be never. Some friendships are only for a season. But some, a precious few, are worth fighting for. Even those will be enigmas--how do you FIGHT for a friendship? So often the other party JUST WANTS TO BE LEFT ALONE. And there's no bridge that will cross that chasm. So you wait.

Waiting, though it seems passive, is really a very good way to fight. It requires patience and a lot of introspection. You might find in the waiting that you don't want to wait anymore. That's okay too.

How goes that saying? "If you love something, let it go. If it comes back, it is yours. If it doesn't, it never was yours to begin with." Well, I don't believe that stock lock and barrel. Because I believe we have seasons. I have wonderful memories of friendships that only lasted a season. Just because that season has passed, I don't need to think we never were friends. But, the letting go is difficult, and if that loved one DOES return, there is hope for renewal.

Sometimes renewal means wrecking what was there before and building an entirely new relationship. That's okay too.

I realize I'm rambling and mixing my metaphors and if someone was paying me to write this, I'd go through a few more drafts.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm trying to be healthy. I'm trying to reach out and give space. I'm trying to figure out who are the people that make me laugh and cry for the right reasons. And I'm trying to figure out who I should just call up and say, "Do you want to have a cup of tea?" (Or a beer, or a walk...)

Because a lot of people are getting pregnant, or getting married, or moving out of state. And having babies. And life goes on. If I wait for the "perfect time" to ask someone to be my friend, my chance may be gone. And my chance might already be gone--some people don't want to be friends. They may have too much going on in their lives. They may want to just be alone. They may be moving and know they won't be good at keeping in touch. There may be people who only want to be friends once in a blue moon for breakfast at McDonalds. There may be friends who dream dreams and then their life changes and they move on and you feel lost, holding half the dream.

I'm learning to let go. I'm also learning how to hold on.

There are people out of my reach. And there are people I don't know HOW to reach. But I'd be a fool to not keep on trying to figure out who are the people I can reach and then try to reach out to them. I'm not perfect, but I make really good quiche.

(There, doesn't that sound like a commencement speech or something in an inspirational book about "How to be friendly"?) It's really just me, trying to sort out my brain. All this writing has made me HUNGRY.

What I gave her on Mother's Day, and what she gave me

So...I didn't go dahn South. And my mother was so happy--it gave her an extra day to clean the guest room for their house guests that arrive tomorrow. And I was happy--I slept until eleven this morning. ELEVEN!! (Well, I have this cold, see, and I didn't take a single nap yesterday...)

At one p.m., I called and "all circuits were busy." I guess everyone else had the same idea. At 3, when I did get through, I told her, it was a "Poland moment." (When I would dial seventeen times, praying in the phone booth in the hall at my dorm to get through.)

She said, "You must have ordered this beautiful day." I did, I told her. It's beautiful here too.

Some of my favorite people don't have that privelege. Of calling their mama today. And that makes me want to weep.

Some of us want so badly to be mamas but we haven't met their daddies yet.

I say "Happy Mother's Day" to everyone as if it's a Valentine greeting. Because we are all each others mothers and each others children. When my mama was far away in Poland and I was a freshman and sophomomore and junior in college, I had stand-in mamas. At least two of those women now are gone. I can't even say thank you to them today if I wanted to.

Ah yes, it's that Sarah Louise, life of the party, Miss Pollyanna.

Erin, over at Biscotti Brain, gave us wanna-bees or wishing it was different a real send-up. Thanks, dear.

And Happy Mother's Day to all yins, because whether you are one or not, we all have one thing in common: We had a mother.

Poetry circa 1988--updated

One of the tasks I've set before me is to clean out my files so as to get ready for the purging of the hard drive for the bringing it on-ness of Windows XP. I found this update of a poem I published in the H.S. Lit Mag my junior year. Then it was called "The Answering Machine." Some of the words are changed, as has the "you."

Voice Mail

Amid all the junk on my desk:
Clippings from magazines,
Two empty glasses
Eight CD cases, three pens
Too many keys on a blue key ring
Scissors and a paperback copy of 1984;
I found your letter.
It told of your happiness
Of being back home
Of the joys of springtime
In the country
But then I read between the lines—
I was sorry I did
For here I saw the piles on your desk too.
Unopened bills
Your mom’s rosary beads
As the phone rings, I prepare my thoughts:
I read your letter,
That’s why I called.
I called to say I care,
I need you, I miss your
Sunshiny smile.
“…please leave your name,
number and a short message at the
Beeeep!”
“Kay, this is Sue…call me back.”
My speech, diminished to seven words.

Which is basically how I feel about answering machines/voice mail. I rarely reveal myself on them, I prefer to talk to the person. Mostly, even if my world has caved in, I don't want my friend's husbands to know, or for my friends to worry, so I cheerily say, "Hope all yins are healthy, we'll talk soon."

Some great librarian videos...

Okay, so it's official. I'm on a "got a cold/vacation" which is good, since "I've used up all my sick days so I'm calling in dead" applies to me. After Lily got over her, "Why aren't you going to Winchester, it's just a cold" she invited me to go see The Emperor's New Clothing at Pittsburgh Playhouse Jr. KEWL. Since she works for Point Park, we'll get in free or for a dollar. NICE!

So I've been feeling remiss about reporting on the library side of my life and what better way (busman's holiday) to do so but by sharing some new YouTubes?

Got this one from Jessamyn, Queen of Librarians. Watch for her sign...



Got this one from Adrienne, someone who commented on Fuse #8 (did you know she vowed to post one children's book review per DAY??)



and this one just makes me giggle...



Wow--You Tube must have fixed something since Christmas. I was sure I was going to have to fix some HTML. Anyways, hope you liked the flix.

Mary, Mary, how contrary, how does your garden grow?

Tulips are gone now. I've been considering flowers on the edge, not sure if it's a "notify the landlord" issue, since he's the one that mows the lawn. But I didn't ask him about the six or so tulips I planted when I was in Library School that still bloom yearly.

I'm quite contrary, actually. Bored. I should be on the open road, listening to an audio of a Maisie Dobbs mystery, ready to reunite with my mother and father. Instead, I slept all morning, and went to McD's for lunch, picked up some things in Oakland (yes, I had a blood test--my Dr. doubts that my cold is related to the Tegretol increase, but he humored hypochondriac me.) So I guess I actually picked up some things (more ovulation wands--see my other blog) and dropped others off (a few vials of blood). Anywho. I went to Walgreens and dropped some cash on new toothbrushes and Zicam. I didn't know there was a swab kind--the Cold Eeze lozenges strictly forbid an empty stomach and no citrus within a half hour. The nose swabs don't come with this warning, woo hoo! So I also bought V-8 and OJ. I considered going to the library but decided against it. Which is a good thing, since by then it was early rush hour. (I forget about stuff like that.)

So I'm home, and I think I might actually try for another nap. Yes, at 5pm, Sarah Louise is considering an evening snooze. Well, I had lunch around 2pm, and hunger seems to have been cut off due to the cold, so I'll wake up around 7 and eat something...

Did I mention how much I abhor colds? I do. But hey, at Walgreens I got a Coke slush drink, so I guess this day hasn't been ALL bad.

So...suck your toe, all the way to Mexico....

Do we ever know as children that all the things we sing song have history, and some have slurs?

I sure didn't.

I remember this one:

That's life.

What's life?

A magazine.

Where do you get it?

At the corner store (like I had ever seen a corner store in my life at this point)

How much does it cost?

Fifty cents. (like a magazine ever cost that...well, maybe, but not in my magazine buying years)

I don't have that.

That's life.

What's life?

and so on until you can't stand it anymore.

So the deed is done. Why do I have the best conversations with my folks when I'm telling them I'm NOT coming down to see them? My dad and I must have talked for close to an hour, about the Bible (Psalms, Revelation, the Inter-testimentary times, how he's doing the Bible in a Year with the Message translation...) about family stuff, about Tulip Time (I will get there, one of these years....)

So I'm feeling better psychikly (is that even a word) but my body aches. Which means I have to report to my psychiatrist. (It's a side effect of Tegretol.) Ugh.

I think I'll watch the rest of whatever Volume this is of Season Four. I'm grateful that I'm in my 30s. I don't think I would understand the nuances of the humor of SATC if I hadn't had, if my friends hadn't had the life experiences we've had.

Off to email the psychiatrist. BUT I DON'T HAVE A FEVER.* This is good. And it could just be I'm worn out, because, well, I've been running.

*I have the AC running. I suppose I could have a fever and not know it?

Oh, internets...or Sarah Louise shows her whining muscles in blogland

So, I'm in the crying jags place. I cried when Miranda got pregnant. I cried when she didn't have an abortion and Charlotte said, "We're having a baby?" (The SATC fans will get it.)

And now I'm thinking it's more prudent to stay home than to go away this weekend. To work a half day on Friday and Saturday and to take Monday off. (Or some combination of that.) Because Tuesday (the polls) will be hard. I mean, I've been getting up at 8 a.m. and Tuesday I have to BE THERE at six a.m.

We had a phone fight, the 'rents and me, mostly because we're all stressed about different things. I watched the rest of the SATC episodes left on the video and started an email to the 'rents. Then I started crying. Then I called Mama. Mama stays up late with her schoolwork, so she was still up just now. She conceded that it would not be a relaxing weekend. Which is what I need. I need some peace and quiet. I need to be able to sleep in. Going to Sis's graduation and then church on Sunday morning and then deciding if I'm leaving Sunday or Monday....

So I'm going to sleep on it. I hate to disappoint Sis, but I would hardly see her--she's spending Friday night in Winchester, and then Saturday--well, graduation is like a wedding. You don't really SEE the person you're celebrating.

So I think I'll be staying in da Burgh. Because I haven't even started packing (well, the pills are ready.)

It would be nice to have a day to myself, to clean this apartment. To veg. To just read. To SHOP! I have coming up wedding showers, weddings, other stuff. (One wedding shower is SOON, and I only found out about it today--the bride and groom pushed up the date.)

And my throat is sore. Which could be allergies OR a scary side effect from Tegretol. (You know, the kind where it says, Tell your doctor if...)

Time to pop "You've got mail" into the VCR and slip into dreamland.

Oh, did I mention that today alone, I have fixed brakes to the tune of $250 and a temporary crown on my tooth, which will cost about that once it is a real crown??

Oh, it's that song, "they just show on up with their big heart, you find out who your friends are..." I really am a country music girl, I just like living in the city.

G'nite. I hope I can sleep...

I've learned a few things...

I can buy my own air filter and wiper blades and save like $30 bucks. Midas just called, my car will be ready around 1pm. Which means I can go see the dentist (something's different, my tongue keeps going over this one area...) at 1:30 and be at the reference desk at 2pm.

Good thing I saved my frozen dinner--I'll have it for lunch!!

Oh, and **blank stare, what was that thought...** oh! I wrote something over ater b my othlog! (that's "at my other blog"--the computer did something and I thought it looked cute and exactly where I am--blank stare, blank stare)

It's 12:00 somewhere, let's chow!

Better living through chemistry...

So last week we decreased the Zoloft cuz I was doing things like staying up til 4:30 am and cleaning like a maniac. Cleaning, by itself, isn't bad, but there's a point where it becomes unhealthy. And other stuff, like I could feel my skin--ugh.

Then, my hormones came for a visit and I turned all dark and stormy MIXED with the "let's dust all surfaces!" (Yes, it's called "mixed state.")

Then I had mornings like today, where I willfully got back under the covers and read my book with the Today show on in the background and finally coerced myself to go to work.

So now we're increasing the Tegretol, tomorrow. So hopefully the self-loathing and guilt and crying and stuff will calm down.

I'll keep yins posted--but I bet you figured that by now.

On the good side, I got to see Eileen tonight--she is one of my favorite peeps. Yes, the Open Door folk were over at the Stiver-Stevens-Bells discussing "Reconciliation." And we might get to play soccer!! (Yes, I played soccer, once upon a time.) (For a very short time.) (Far far away.)

G'nite. I'm gonna see if anyone's home at 304 Nut St.

The Dark Side of Sarah Louise...

This weekend, I braved the masses and went to see the third Spiderman movie. In it, Peter Parker's Spiderman suit goes black and we are introduced to the "darker side of Spiderman."

Weeks ago, talking to a friend, she said she wasn't really interested in seeing the "darker side."

The movie in so many ways mirrored my life that it was hard to see it on the screen. Peter betrays MJ, MJ betrays Peter, Eddie betrays them both, the guy who killed Ben Parker comes back and Peter has a face to face with him, where Peter admits, "I've done a lot of bad things too."

This movie did not feature the fairy tale wedding on the hill that I guess I expected of the third Spiderman. I think there is easily room for a Spiderman IV.

Against good advice from therapists, friends, parents, again and again, I push the limits. I reach out to people with a barbed hand. I remember a book about borderline personalities that lived in the Self Help department when I worked at Fox Books. It was a red paperback called, "I hate you, don't leave me."

There's the bumper sticker we've all seen: "Hurt people hurt people."

Bumper sticker wisdom. Ah yes.

We come so close to reconciliation and then we can't help but say, "remember when you said such and such?" We can't help but take the knife in the back and twist it, just a little more. If I make you squirm, will you still like me?

I have no easy answers. What is it that Paul famously said, "I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do." (Romans 7:15)

Clay feet. I have 'em. I am so NOT made of "sugar and spice and everything nice..."

And yet, there are a few folks who take all my crap and still love me. To those few, I say a big THANKS.

Ugh

It's taken me this long to figure it out--I don't have Monday blues (duh, it's my day off.) But Tuesday blues figure big in the Louise household.

But, I'm reading Paula Marantz Cohen's new book, Jane Austen in Scarsdale. It gives tribute to my favorite Jane book, Persuasion.

Okay, I guess I'll find some shoes and hoof it to my job. (Which, I do love, btw.)

So clever...or not....

So, I thought up a new labeling system, but it might have some snags, so stay posted.

Reading the sign on my desk...

It's been weeks since I've had any sort of decent conversation with any of the residents of 304 Nut St. in Virginia. (Or at least in my mind a long time.) I left a message last night that was something like "I'm so exhausted." I left a message earlier this week on Sis's cell, "I can't find my watch! I can't find my watch!*"

Did anyone call me back? Email me a NYT article on how to sort your underwear drawer so that you don't misplace watches or bras...

So when I picked up the phone, to call my family (the ones who had not called me...) I was ready to be snarky. "Don't you love me anymore???" And then I remembered that sign on my desk, that Bonhoeffer quote:

"The person who loves their dream of community (read: family) will destroy community (or their family) but the person who loves those around them will create community."

So when my dad answered and right away wanted to know how I was getting down South for Mother's Day, not even, how are you, daughter, we got your message, I took a deep breath and discussed transportation arrangements.

We chatted a bit, about movies: I catalogued a series of Polish films based on the 10 commandments (my 'rents lived in Poland for three years as the iron curtain dissolved). (The series of ten movies is called The Decalogue.) I told him I just finished watching Bobby. He told me about the happenings at their church, where my 'rents are really doing everything: nursery, ushering, Sunday School, clean up from communion...and the Sunday School is the hardest--it's a series on caring for our creation, not a popular topic, and on the weeks they weren't on field trips, my parents have been met with antagonism. Tomorrow is the last class.

Mom and Sis were at TJ Maxx shopping for a dress for graduation--yes, Sis graduates next weekend. And the following week is the Primaries, and that weekend is BJ's graduation party from Seminary (woo hoo) and the following weekend I have a wedding. Holy Calendar squares, Batman, I've got a busy month!! And I think I better be looking at my dresses...

I am determined to somewhat make this blog a little less eclectic and a little more focused--maybe a day of the week theme. Like Monday: anything, since it's my day off. Tuesday: Cataloguing, Wednesday, Kids stuff, Thursday, librarianship of any sort, Friday, TGIF, so something fun, and Saturday, more cataloguing, and Sunday, something spiritual.

Knowing me, I won't follow this to a T, and I may scrap the whole idea, but I really have not been following the kidlit blogs AT ALL and it makes me sad. Maybe more what I need is a reading schedule--and my reading would then influence my writing...

Ah really don't know.

But here's a tidbit: today there was a veteran selling poppies outside the Giant Eagle. I bought one on my way back to the car, and told him my grandfather was a Navy Chaplin. The veteran selling the poppies said he'd been in Korea and it occurred to me that yes, the WWII veterans would be very old by now. Wocka-Poppa (my pop-pop) died a year before I was born, and my Grandpa died when I was a senior in college, so in my mind, they are as young as they were the day they died. (Not so young, but younger than if they were still living--my grandma, who died two years ago, was 99 1/2.) I tied the poppy to the "Ich Liebe Dich/I love You" ornament that I have hanging off my rear view mirror. I'll take a picture.

But now, Internets, it is time to get ready for bed. I'm zonked.
______________
*I suppose it is funnier with the actual thing I couldn't find, which was a bra.

Timid? Moi? Not commenting? Moi? Yes, it's true...

So I've had a really bizarre week. I'm trying to be less "kiss and tell" on ze blog (or rather, no kisses and tell") but Internets, this was the week of all kinds of mood swings and introvert sirens blaring and surprise emails and...I'm exhausted.

So I've noticed something. I have been visiting your blogs but I'll start a comment and then think it's stupid and erase it.

AND I STILL HAVE NOT GOTTEN TO THE POST OFFICE! Yesterday, when I went to the Oakland Main Carnegie, the Post Office has been closed there. And then I didn't have time to go...so MONDAY. Which will be a lovely day of appointments:

8:45 Chiro
11:00 Therapist
3:00 Psychiatrist
7:00 Prayer Mtg.

I might go see Spiderman 3 tomorrow. No clue if it will be sold out.

I've got to find more interesting things to blog about. I'm just exhausted and feeling trapped and ugh. I was in a groove around 11, but that groove has come and GONE. Janice and I are staying a little late (I'm not clear if it's 5:30 or 6, but I need the hours, so we'll flex.)

A librarian story? Well, I check Dewey numbers. We mostly get them from the CIP data (fancy abbreviation for the info on the t.p. verso or the copyright page.) I double check to make sure they're accurate, fit our collection, etc.

So the latest Bill Geist book (something about small town America) comes across my desk, and the number is like 8 digits beyond the decimal point (too many, dear Internets!).

This was the number: 973.924020'7. Now, 973 is for USA (9 is geography, 7 is the Americas, 3 is the US of A.) Generally, if you don't have zeros after the 973, you're talking about a president. Sure enough, the Bill Geist book about Small Towns (Way off the Road) is classed under Richard Milhaus Nixon. (Well, at least the .924 part is.) (Who knows what the other numbers were supposed to be for...)

I did some research, sent an email to the librarians upstairs, suggesting two possible numbers for the book. One of them called me and said, use the 973 one, but why aren't you using the one in the CIP? It took nearly every inch to say in a calm tone of voice, "Because the book would be classed under NIXON!!"

And wouldn't you know, Bill Geist and Bill Bryson, who both wrote books on Small Towns, will be separated. Because Bill Bryson's book (The Lost Continent: travels in small-town America) is classed under 917.3. (9 for geography, 1 for travel, 7 for America, 3 for USA.)

YOUR LIBRARY TIP OF THE DAY: if you want to have a 973 book not be about a president, you have to make sure you add the right amount of zeroes. So Bill Geist will be found in 973.009, which is the geography of the USA.

Aren't you glad you stopped by?

Oh, and in grocery store news, I scored a copy of a VHS of Season 4, Vol. 3 of Sex and the City. Who knows what kind of condition it's in, but for $1.99, I'll take a chance.

Oh, it's quiet... (updated)

apparently, it's not Nan's Saturday...anyways. And apparently Esther's daughter and son-in-law are in town, so she's not here.

MUST I WORK?

It's not so bad...

What day is it????

So I just called into work, as I overslept and will be late. I figured I'd get Nan. No, I got Jill. All of a sudden, even though in my heart of hearts I knew it was Saturday, I said, "Wait, what day is it?" (Because I never work with Jill and she hardly ever works the weekend.)

So now I know that I'm not going to a quiet office (part of why I like Saturdays, it's just Janice and I most of the time, sometimes Nan, sometimes our boss Esther.)

And I'm a little shell-shocked anyways--this has been QUITE a week.

Say special prayers for Paula's Dale--he's shipping out soon.

Say a thank you and continued healing for Blackbird's K--he's doing fine.

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

Apparently I have a very rich imagination--in my dreams, I reunited with both college roommates and was living on what sort of looked like the South Side slopes and I found $100 in the carpet. Oh, and Samantha from Sex and the City was one of my roommates. And I lived walking distance from a movie theatre and a bookstore but both were closed, as it was early in the day. But I was going to go see the SATC movie (another fiction of my dream.)

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

Nothing against people in general, but now I do not want to go in to work. All my introvert sirens were at high keen last night, so before I went to a BBQ at Amy and Cameron's, I had dinner at Wendy's and finished my book. Then I went to the BBQ, which was lovely, Amy's dad was the reason for the event and he was quite nice. (He's in town from California.)

Well, off I go. And I told Jill 9:30 or 9:45 and that's like 5 minutes from now. Oh look, more dust. Janice won't be in until after 1:00--it's soccer season.

I'm going...

In which Sarah Louise shares some links, in the hopes that you will share some books...

Every once in a while, my friend Susan Fry or one of her relatives is in the newspaper. I'm not kidding. Her niece was once the model for a Walmart photo ad.

Now, not for nothing, a picture of my own darling sister at a very young age was in the window of a Tegucigalpa photographer, I guess sort of as a model, but I think Susan has topped me again and again.

So...a Girl Scout in her hometown of Pepperell, MA is sending books to a school in the wake of Katrina...here's the lead from the newspaper article: "There is a school in Chalmette, La., with a library Emily Batchelder has never seen, but she's got a pretty good idea it doesn't have enough books."

Here's a link to the article.

In it, you learn that Susan Fry, with her new Usborne business, has partnered with Emily to send more books to the kids in Chalmette. I just bought a copy of the 12 Dancing Princesses, one of my favorite fairy tales. The shipping is free if you have it sent to Chalmette, and you can even leave a gift note that will show up on the invoice.

Plus, Usborne books are really great. So you can order them for your own kids. I think you have to pay for shipping to your own house, but somehow Usborne is still donating money if you buy them for your own kids...read the article.

Susan and I met in Chemistry class, our junior year of high school, two days before her niece was born. The first words I remember her saying were, "My sister's having a baby!" And two days later, "My sister had her baby!" Her mom once butchered my last name, and we all had a good laugh. When I had chicken pox (at the ripe age of 20), and my parents were in Poland, it was Susan's mom who drove me back to college. (Well, I didn't know it was chicken pox...oh that's a story for another day.) Anyways, we have history, and I think this is a trés cool thing that she's doing here.

Here's a link to buy a book (or books).

And with that, I'm off to the Internet Safety thing a ma jig! Ciao!

I couldn't stand it anymore, I shut the TV off...

It's that frizzy haired film critic on Today. He was slamming Spiderman 3. Now, the one good thing is that if he hated it, I know I'll love it, but if I watch Today on Friday when he gives his film moment (too long) I almost always shut the TV off.

I should go for a walk.

But you know, Matt is in Capetown, South Africa today. So I'll continue to browse my email.

I bet he's done by now. The good bit is that I got to see more footage from the film. Oooooh, how I hate that frizzy haired man!!!

Where's Matt? (and SL continues to watch Today...)

I guessed Beijing--the clue was something about hosting the world. Yeah, NO.

Dubai. Emily's ex is doing a lot of work there. Oh, and soon, Em is on her way to Korea. I'll shoot her an email today or tomorrow.

Oh, and the Lewis twins lived there. I should finally email some pictures... (not of Dubai--I have some pictures from when Livia was here (yes, like in August) that I still haven't sent out.

I figured out when I'm going to the Post Office--there's one inside the Carnegie Main Library, where I'll be Friday for an Internet Safety forum.

Queen Rania of Jordan (yes, she has her own website!) is talking to Meredith about micro-lending and village banks. "Harnessing social momentum." This is the coolest concept ever--women are loaned like $100 and and they can buy some chickens and start a small business selling eggs and eventually chickens...it is SO amazing.

Memory is like a purse...

...if it be over-full that it cannot shut, all will drop out of it. Take heed of a gluttonous curiosity to feed on many things, lest the greediness of the appetite of thy memory spoil the digestion thereof. (Thomas Fuller)

This was the only purse specific quote I could find that I liked. Case in point, the last time I did a "purse post" I used the dictionary definition.

Note to self: next time save the google search and just use the Roget's thesauraus entry.


My new purse, full to the gills. Target, $24.99

My lovely OCLC pin that says Cataloguing is a public Service/Reference is a public service.

My wallet, purchased YEARS ago. Yet, they match! Looky that! And, this wallet had been lost in the abyss of my garret for many moons, so the aquisition of a matching purse is even sweeter as I reaquaint myself with my wallet.

80 cents at the library shop, read it and weep!! (Or watch it and guffaw!)

My last tulips of the season.