"If you're tired of New York you take a nap-a, you don't move to Napa."

(Carrie to Big, SATC)

So far today I have sent myself at least three emails with blog post ideas. Plus, I promised pics of the new purse....

And I really should make a list of all the things I need to/want to get done.

Tomorrow I'm going over to NH Sally's to declutter her place, in preparation for her in-law's visit this weekend.

Today after work I have some packages to mail--I think the McKnight P.O. stays open until 6 pm. One thing I do like about working 9-5 is that I generally get home in time to watch Frasier.

I didn't make it here at 9, but I took a 45 minute lunch, so that cancels out my 9:15 arrival. Tip: if your audience is children in the 6 mos to 24 mos range, Minerva Louise is not a good choice if you want their rapt attention. It was an experiment, and while the adults loved it, we'll find something better for next week. Yawn--it must be almost time for my 2pm cuppa coffee.

(So instead of posting an interesting post on one of the scintillating topics I've proposed to myself via email, I've written a pedestrian post on...stuff.)

Off to Mother Goose I go...

Someone special has a birthday today, so I have some flowers to deliver, and some laundry to pick up to the Fluff n' Fold.

Pictures later...but first, let me point out a new link on the right. I am obsessed with Matt Lauer's world travels, so there is a link. Hmm, looks surprisingly like J.K. Rowling's website...

This time, I hope to get a trip t-shirt (I need another t-shirt like a hole in the head) but last time I wasn't able to get one...I'll be on the NBC website after MG, scouring it for how to get one...

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.

Dewey choices...

So, the New Yorker's book called "The Rejected Collection," which is a collection of cartoons that were rejected for one reason or another, goes in 741.5.... because it is a collection of cartoons. The fact that they were rejected is sort of secondary. Whereas Killed Cartoons: Casualties from the war on free expression, goes in 070.442,

which is Journalism, (070.4),
Features and specific subjects (add the next 4=070.44),
Interpretation and opinion (add the last 2=070.442).

These two books in my mind SHOULD sit side by side, somewhere, but not in the Dewey schema. I wonder if the 650s match, such that someone doing a keyword search would find both books. (Because Killed Cartoons is more commentary than cartoons, but they are the same SUBJECT.) If someone was going to do a research paper on rejected cartoons, they would want both books.

Okay, I just added a 650 (subject) to the Rejection Collection: Editorial cartoonszUnited StatesxHistory.

If your eyes just glazed over at the technical language, as you were. A librarian lapse!!

Prayers that are hard to pray

It's easy to pray for your neighbor's cousin's uncle who is in the hospital for gall bladder. He'll probably get out well, whether or not you pray.

Or to pray that someone else will step up to help a mom who needs babysitting.

But to pray blessings on someone whose plan is to go far away? To pray that God will be more revealed in their life? Preparing a place, far far away?

To pray that someone who hurt you will prosper, that is a hard prayer. That God will reveal Himself to her, that she will feel His prescence, when she is still so far away from you, that is not an easy prayer. But it comes easier.

And praying these hard prayers is easier than not praying them, where they would fester. Because if I don't pray them, I hold onto them, and I can't. Go west, young man! Go east, young woman!

We prayed for families, and for our own wretched hungry hearts. We prayed and we prayed and we prayed. We read from the Psalms, from James, and from John.

We prayed for unity in the mess of ego. We prayed for the brokenhearted. We listened to (or read aloud) Leonard Cohen's poetry.

We labored in prayer. May our labor bear fruit. May we continue to pray...

"You were never meant to be a woman on this island"

Captain to Sara Louise Bradshaw in Jacob Have I loved by Katherine Paterson.

Yes, her name is Sara Louise. She is the inspiration for my blog name. One of these days I intend to purchase the audio book. I think it's only available on cassette, the one with Moira Kelly.

In this scene, Sara Louise is mourning McCall's decision to marry her twin sister, Caroline. She thought maybe she had a future with Call.

I don't have the book here, but either here, or later, the Captain urges Sara Louise to follow her dreams. She discovers that she wants to be a doctor, and pursues this goal at the University of Maryland.

Later, SL is a nurse in a town that bears her father's first name, in the mountains. After living on the island her whole life, she has a desire to see mountains, and this town is completely surrounded by mountains.

After a life of living in the shadow of her sister, Caroline, older by only minutes, SL has found her own way.

While I am the oldest of three, and I have seen mountains, and islands, and no desire to be a doctor or a nurse, I love SL. So much that I used her name for this blog.

Ugh. Do you ever have that blog feeling where you're trying to get something out but you can't? That's the awkwardness of this post. I have been dreaming the wrong dream, it seems, much like SL was. She was hoping that something would happen with Call, who chose Caroline. But instead she found something better.

Anyways, I can't put my finger on how to express this. But [did you sense the pause] the stars of Spiderman 3 are on the Today show, so I'll have to leave you with this awkward attempt. Anyways, I'm puzzling my way through.

And soon, I have to get ready for some computer training. Oh, and if working on my day off weren't enough, it's also DAY TWO.

But, I have planned ahead. At 4:45, I have scheduled a massage.

It's spring, and it's time to trash pick!!

So this is the shelf. (Note the butterfly sticker--cute!) I'd been wanting something for the basement, was thinking a la Home Depot utility shelf, but this was better, because a) it was free 2) it is nice--custom-made and finally, I didn't have to assemble it, just clean it up. (It took me two hours and lotsa Method brand cleaner...)

A "before" shot of the glass panels. The red one is a mirror (backwards, in this shot), which fits in the bottom.

Another "before" shot, this with my bucket, ready to clean.

Did I tell the story of this pick? Well, I was driving home from...somewhere, on Monday, and saw it. I slowed down, stopped to take a look, and drove straight to EE (East End) Sally's house. She wasn't home, but I caught her on her cell at Aldi. I promised to help her unload her groceries if she'd help me pick this shelf (she has a station wagon.) So, with my key (I love that!) I let myself in, fixed some water for me, and some for her, and then sat in the sun of her backyard until she showed up. I helped her bring in the groceries, and whilst she put them away, I played "soccer" with her youngest, Frank. He is such a cutie. Then we drove off to get the shelf. I hadn't realized the shelves came out, which made it so much easier to tote.

Here it is in its new habitat:





I imagine when/if I move, this will go with me, and be used for nicer things than my basement clutter, but for now, it serves the purpose.

A side shot.

My next project!! No real cleaning required, this one is from NH (North Hills) Sally, and I'll move it up on Monday afternoon. She'll then get the drawer/file cabinet hutch that my printer is currently on.

I love my Sallys!!

(Yes, I know the one shelf is crooked, but it was free, and I'll deal. When it enters its new habitat, I'll post pictures.)

Go hug someone!! I'm off to get ready for brunch with the gals--oh, and I have a new art project, but I might not unveil it til it's done...and I still haven't posted pix of my Station. But at least they're now downloaded from my camera...

Also, I saw Babs again this morning with Fred--he is such a nice dog. And I think I met a woman who is running for school board...

She is clothed in strength and dignity and laughs at the time to come... (Proverbs 31:25)

On the other hand...

Why is it that we tend to focus on the negative? I had a lovely jewelery party, my two best friends came, one brought a friend, and I love the lady who is the consultant, so we all had a blast, trying on jewelery. Ms. Second Floor came up and ordered something before the party started (let's get it started, yo, let's get it started, hey.) b/c she and daughter had evening plans and then just now, she called to see how it went. She can drive me up a wall with her vacuuming at 10 pm, but she really is a sweetheart. She works tomorrow but I'll have to figure a way to get her some of the leftover strawberries.

On the other hand, I invited almost thirty five women!! About 15 had other plans, were out of town, or don't wear jewelery, but some women said they probably would come and why do I care so much that they didn't when clearly, I had a good time?! It's just another indictation that relationships take time. And care, and nurturing. So, we're not there yet. So...move on! And keep inviting folks. This was the first time NH Sally came to one of my parties, the first time Kelly even ever saw my apartment, and the first time I let Ms. Second Floor in--she keeps an immaculate apartment with all new furniture and I felt, well, like the poor cousin. But she knew Sherry, who does work at her daughter's school for their garden, and I stood there washing dishes, it was really nice.

I can still feel my skin--ARGH!! I had a rough day at work, but I made it through and even solved a few problems!! I cleaned my desk this morning, which is a good feeling, I got rid of probably a ream of old papers. And now I know where things are.

Tomorrow's plan is to veg and to go see that new Meg Ryan flick that has Women in the title. And to post pictures of last Monday's trash-pick find.

Hug your little or big ones, and I'll catch ya on the flip side. Smile--your teeth need the sunshine.

Oh, and I got my first wedding invite in almost two years--exciting, exciting!! I love weddings. And I LOVE the invites--the envelope all calligraphied n'at...

More dead white men...

Earlier this week, I found a post that said David Halberstam being killed was bullsh*t. The writer railed on and on about that it is"utter bullsh*t considering that the guy reported from fricking Vietnam and he dies in a traffic accident in San Mateo."

I also found a link to a satire that vodka sales would plummet now that Yeltsin was dead, since he was such a huge consumer of said spirit. (Sorry, I can't find the link.)

So sunshiny! So Pollyanna! That Sarah Louise, she sure perks up a party!

Go jump in a lake. I'm going to bed.

"We don't see things as they are, we see things as we are."

(Anais Nin)

Ugh. How am I today? Jittery. Strung out. Frazzled. I can feel my skin. I didn't need my 2 pm cup of coffee (I was already wired.)

So instead of going to the free This Side of Eve concert tonight (sorry Alyssa!), I'm going to have a nice dinner somewhere (why isn't Abaté open yet?) and get the apartment ready for tomorrow's jewelry party. Maybe I'll watch My Dinner with Andre, a movie my boss recommended.

Oh, and we'll decrease the Zoloft tomorrow by 50 mg, since it's been like this all week and hasn't gotten better. (A mood change is defined by how long it lasts--if you're up or down for more than three days, it can clinically be called depression or hypomania or mania.) If you're only down for one day, it doesn't count on the main scheme of things, which is why I only contacted my psychiatrist today.

Brrring! That was my boss calling to say she'd be a couple minutes late. And here I was thinking she was probably already in the back office getting ready to come out...I love my boss. She just came back from Ireland and is in good spirits. I have an Ireland magnet which now adorns my desk, along with the Antartica magnets from the parent's visit this winter.

Yesterday NH Sally said if only you could bottle hypomania. I told her there's a book out there where a guy talks about that--he's convinced that 80% of New Yorkers are operating on hypomania...but what comes up must come down...

Anyways, I realize this is a pretty boring post, but the AN quote was what hit me. Right now I'm not seeing things as they are, I'm seeing them as I am, and that's giving me a pretty frazzled world view. I wonder if there are any Chant CD's upstairs? Somehow I think calm music on the drive home would be a good idea.

Guess that's what an online catalog is for...

Til later...I have pictures to post n'at...

Hair Lessons

As a librarian, I subscribe to too many online newsletters about upcoming books. As a woman who battles her hair, I found this link and had to laugh. I bet we could make it into a meme if we really wanted to...

bits and pieces of a metro DC life...

You know I'm tired when I bring up old posts from FEBRUARY...this was from my momma's birthday weekend.

When I come to NOVA (Northern Virginia, for the uninitiated), I do all sorts of fun things. Including reading the local newspaper, the Washington Post. (or as some bloggers* call it, the WaPo)

"We'll have the goose napkins, because Friday I have to be a goose." (Mama)

Twinkle, twinkle, Little bat!
How I wonder what you're at!
Up above the world you fly,
Like a tea-tray in the sky. (Lewis Carroll)

Cross Patch, draw the latch,
Sit by the fire and spin,
Take a cup and drink it up,
Then call your neighbors in. (Mother Goose)

(from a Tea book from the Metropolitan Museum of Art)

There were the five nations of Native Americans that had slaves! And now the Cherokees are trying to purge their nation of these folks (such a small amt, it seems to me, out of 250,000, there are 2,800 that are registered "freedmen).

The bathrooms in DC schools are substandard.

We had presents for mama's bday last night. The girls (mama, sis, and I) sang "When you're 64."

My papa has been to Chicago and he sent us all postcards. He sent them all to 304 Nut St, even mine. He also brought back gifts n' things. He used to always do that when he came home from a trip when we were little. My sister and I each got a "stained glass" Frank Lloyd Wright inspired art pin, and my mom got a whole bunch of stuff, including, I think, chocolate. Well, it was her birthday, after all.

We went to a French restaurant to celebrate--wow! and then to the movies: "Amazing Grace." Pops fell asleep as is his M.O. But the rest of us were awake. I loved it so much that when I returned to da Burgh I went to see it again.

Today, in da Burgh: I've been cleaning and cleaning. North Hills Sally came over this morning and for two hours we cleaned and de-cluttered--I must have returned over 20 books to the library today and I have a box of books for Goodwill in the car, plus some shoes and some other stuff I'll not be needing.

Talked to my Aunt Perk tonight. I have a short list of folks I can call while driving--my nuclear family is against it, so that excludes Mama, Papa, Sis and Bro. I already talked to Kelly earlier--she's coming to the party on Saturday--I think it will be a nice party--so I called Aunt Perk, who drives long distances and always talks whilst driving. She is my favorite aunt. Well, I guess my only living one...she's my mom's sister and an oldest, like me. Her late husband was also an oldest (my parents are both youngests) and during college I spent holidays with them sometimes and often felt more at home with them than with my own parents because they acted like, well, oldests. My uncle was very bossy, but generally right. And my aunt is one of the most beautiful Christians I know. And she loves her family and they know it.

I probably could keep writing, but I'm exhausted. Yawn...

*well, not in this post, she doesn't, but the post I linked to is a very cool article about Joshua Bell and an experiment he participated with the WaPo. It's amazing.

I need a nap!!

Okay, so remember I had wicked insomnia Monday night into Tuesday morning? I then went to work, worked from 11:45 until 6pm, got some Wendy's, changed into jeans, and went to the OD discussion group. Stayed there until about 9:30, upon reaching home, I talked to my mom about our summer travel plans--MONTANA for my dad's 65th, put together a list of names for the Silpada consultant to follow up on, and crashed. (Well, I did read some more of Death at Wentwater Court, the first Daisy Dalrymple mystery--v.g.)

I slept ten hours.

I came to work and was rather chipper until lunch. What is it about the midday meal that makes us all into walking zombies? At 2, I had my requisite daily cup of decaf and since then it has taken every inch of my willpower to not crawl onto the floor and take a nap.

Tonight I'll call the folks that said "maybe" they could come Saturday. I'm afraid my bravado of this morning "I'll invite some coworkers and I'll get outside orders too!" is ALL GONE.

And in 25 minutes, I'll be back on the reference desk...

I've been researching mother daughter book clubs--I'm thinking of a total re-vamp for mine: change the name, change the graphic we use for the signage and bookmarks. The group is for fourth and fifth grade girls and their moms/significant women in their lives.

So far I've come up with "Tweens and Moms Reading Together." Laura said it's kind of long, and does that mean it's boys too? So then I came up with "Reading: Tween Girls and Moms" which is a little bizarre, I mean who attends a club whose title has a colon in the title? So let's see, "Tween Girls and Moms Reading?" Any and all suggestions will be taken into consideration, dear reader.

I so want a nap!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

20 minutes til I'm on the reference desk.

I am Lucy... (and other random thoughts on a Tuesday morning)

You have a strong sense of responsibility toward others and a deep respect for other people, even strangers, though you are not always sure what the best course of action is. You are Lucy, the brave child who who is wise beyond her years and kind to all she meets.

Which Narnia character are you?

My dad sent me this meme/quiz back in Lent and it re-introduced me to Beliefnet. He was Lucy too. He sent me an email saying good thing it wasn't Lucy Van Pelt (of the Peanuts.)

The flags are back at full mast--thankfully, I don't think we honor foreign dignataries or writers. (Sorry Boris and David*, I'm ready to stop thinking about loss.) (Yes, I realize how crass that would sound to those who really WILL be missing these two dear men.)

And in the category of covers that should not have been EVER allowed:
In the category of THANK GOD it was covered: Donna Summer singing MacArthur Park. It was originally recorded by Richard Harris (thank you, wikipedia) and that was surely the song I heard on my Standards/Golden Oldies station last night. ACK!

I had a GREAT day yesterday. Due to overstimulation and potential PMS, I was awake until 4:30 a.m. So instead of falling asleep to "That Thing You Do" I got to watch the whole thing. And due to my strung out, sleep deprived state, I wept at the end. (It's a COMEDY.) Okay, off to work.

*Yesterday we lost Boris Yeltsin and David Halberstam.

Flags at half mast all over town...

Stushie, over at Presbyterian Bloggers, made this. He's made lots of nice stained glass window-ish pieces, but this one he said we could use if we wanted to for meditations on this week's events. WOW.

The school colors are in the flame (yellow and orange).

On my walk home, this is the passage that came to me, a passage of text that I come back to again and again (thank you Jay McInerney.)

You are a republic of voices tonight. Unfortunately, that republic is Italy. All these voices waving their arms and screaming at one another. There's an ex cathedra riff coming down from the Vatican: Repent. Your body is the temple of the Lord and you have defiled it. It is, after all, Sunday morning, and as long as you have any brain cells left there will be a resonant patriarchal basso echoing down the marble vaults of your churchgoing childhood to remind you that this is the Lord's Day. What you need is another overpriced drink to drown it all out. But a search of pockets yields only a dollar bill and change. You paid twenty to get in here. Panic gains. (Bright Lights, Big City, p. 6, by Jay McInerney.)

I kicked a newspaper box today. I yelled at it. It was this paper (pdf. file) Nowhere above the crease (the part of the paper seen in street boxes) did it even mention what happened in Virginia on Monday. Okay, already I'm a republic of voices, because it did--but the headline was "Public Safety vs. Right to Privacy." Hello? The focus of the article is how the privacy of the information that Cho was mentally ill somehow is the reason he got away with murder. Great reporting. An editorial on red tape in the corner of the front page. If you've been paying attention at all, you know by now there's a Federal law saying that folks that have been labeled "a danger to themselves" can't buy guns. There's a big bruhaha on how Cho bought not one but two guns.

Contrast that with this front page. (pdf. file) The article starts off talking about Cho's mother. Humanize the story. Let us know that we are all just people. Apparently (did you sense the pause) it's one of the articles you won't find online. That's okay, I need to buy the paper today anyways.

I took a walk this morning. It was the first morning walk in a very long time. I couldn't find my disc-man, so I heard the mourning doves. (I do not like mourning doves, but that's another story for another day.) I walked past grass glistening with dew and I couldn't help but think of the most optimistic verse of the most pessimistic prophet:

18 So I say, "My splendor is gone
and all that I had hoped from the LORD."

19 I remember my affliction and my wandering,
the bitterness and the gall.

20 I well remember them,
and my soul is downcast within me.

21 Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:

22 Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.

23 They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.

24 I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him." (Lamentations 3:18-24)

It reminds me of Gerard Manley Hopkin's poem, God's Grandeur:

THE WORLD is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;	5
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;	10
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

I wrote a paper on this poem my sophomore year of college. Sister Maureen is gone by now, I'm sure. But I still remember her comment on my paper, "Why not end it well, the way the poet does?" Because after the poet laments that man smudges and leaves nature bare, the Holy Ghost broods with "warm breast and with ah! bright wings."

Let that sink in for a minute.

The exclamation point is the poet not being able to contain himself, akin to Elizabeth Bishop's "write it!" in One Art.

A few weeks ago, I had dreams several nights in succession that I was with the man I was to marry. A different man in each dream, a different locale. I was not yet married, but its immanence was implied. This week I have dreamt of loss and gain. Last night I dreamed that Boston had come back, that we, along with the cast of Friends, were trying to catch a train to Buffalo. And it depended on me wrapping a gift correctly. I woke to realize it was a dream, she is still estranged.

My father is apt to quote Blaise Pascal: "I apologize that this letter is so long. I did not have the time to make it short." This post is doing that. My mind is a republic of voices and while I do not have a shortage of space, I do have a deadline: I must be at work in an hour and ten minutes. I must be driving for thirty of those minutes. I had a large breakfast, (which I ate part of with Babs at Tazzo!*) so I'm not hungry, but I have to fix food, as I will be the only person in my department and not able to take a meal break.

I am angry. That co-workers this week by Wednesday were citing the news blitz as too much. That the Tribune-Review would think an editorial on the front cover was good news coverage. That when I first sat down to start this post, a neighbor was using some noisy thing, requiring me to close my window.

I am sad. I am confused. I remember as a child, being sent out to the front lawn of our school in Tegucigalpa because there had been a bomb threat. We would sit there, wondering if that bump was a buried bomb. But we were children, children who for the most part were very safe. We had dogs, for watching, and night watchmen who paced our quiet streets while we slept, and we had to go through security to visit our dads at work. But we knew nothing of gunshots, or blood. We had two TV channels, 5 and 7. No Internet, no email. The Miami Herald was a day old at best when it reached us.

Sort of a Latin American Mayberry? Not really. We didn't go to Nicaragua for Thanksgiving the first year we moved there because of the war there. But what do I remember most about El Salvador? That the great towels came from there.

Get to the point, my brain yells. And yet, I cannot. I do not want to think that I live in a world where all the pundits can talk about is gun laws and campus security.

This morning when I walked the stairs (I pray for families when I walk the stairs in Highland Park, the stairs above "Lake" Carnegie) I prayed for the 33 families of the deceased. I prayed for Ted Bundy's mom.

My time is up. It's 12:01 and I have to think about a shower, some lunch, and what to wear.


*more on that later. How I love my little neighborhood café.

Interesting dedications or other stuff in books...

"To Sherlyl Hardin a valuable resource (and friend) for me
and a guiding light for her students.
This second grade teacher rules!"

(In Paula dangizer's Second grade rules, Amber Brown)

"This is a work of fiction. All names and characters are either invented or used fictiously. The owls, however, are quite real."

(In Carl Hiaasen's Hoot.)

"To
Pythagoras and the Beatles,
whose 'All is number' and 'All you need is love'
so aptly define the poles about which my world revolves"

(In Peter Strom Rudman's How mathematics happened, the first 50,000 years)

Of these, I've only read Hoot, which I'm reading again for the ??th time. I like Mr. Hiaasen and hope he continues writing for young folks b/c I can't take the sex, violence etc. found in his books for adults (fans, any recommendations?).

Oh how I wish to be OUTSIDE!!

on the radio right now:

Walking in Memphis*--Marc Cohn.

LOVE THAT SONG!

...put on my blue suede shoes and boarded the plane...

Off to work, she goes, that Sarah Louise, the SuperLibrarian!!

*found this website through Google, it explains a lot of the lyrics...and then you can click on the link and get to the lyrics.

OH AND THIS JUST IN: WKRP in Cinncinati is coming out on DVD!!

The book is almost always better...

Some people go to the movies Friday night. Since I'm workin' til 9pm and have to work at 9am tomorrow, I went to the movies this morning.

I love the book Because of Winn-Dixie. The movie, well, while it had its good points (Dave Matthews as a pet store clerk) was not a movie I love.

But I'm glad I saw it. And I was equally glad when it was over.

More on this later, I'm off to clean up so I can have lunch with Marian (the Librarian.)

Sarah Louise lives here

Sometimes I wonder if I am a glutton for pain. Of the de-cluttering kind.

In two Saturdays, (which is actually only eight? days from today) I am hosting a Silpada jewelery party. My mother was like, why??? And my response was, the lady who is the consultant is my friend and it's a way for me to invite my friends into my house--I heart parties.

It has been heart wrenching. EVERYONE and their sister, cousin, aunt is going out of town. Or doesn't wear jewelery. Or doesn't read their email. Out of like thirty five women emailed, I have four maybes and I haven't heard a yes from one of them, so I don't know if the "official invitations" went out...

I honestly could care less about free jewelery, though Silpada's ware is very nice (click on ze link), I just want to have some folks over.

Enter the second obstacle: my apartment. Remember the 12 year thing? How I'm trying to lose those twelve years of clutter? Well, like any diet, one must be CONSISTENT. So. not. me. Right now you can hardly see any floor AT ALL.

So my weekend (what weekend? I work today 1-9, tomorrow 9-5, Sunday 1-5) will consist of two things: getting on the phone and getting some folks to commit to coming and de-cluttering this hovel of a garret. Ugh.

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.

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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.