He is risen, He is risen indeed!

One of my earliest Easter memories is of being tucked in my bed on Calle Guaymura, and my mother coming to my bedside, whispering in my ear, He is risen! I guess I was 9 or 10.

I just got off the phone with my Dad, who answered the phone, "He is risen." I responded with, "He is risen, indeed!" which is a tradition in many reformed tradition churches. It's one of the traditions that holds with Easter, and as a one who doesn't have many traditions to hold on to, I cling to this one for more than one reason.

I'll go to the Open Door for the 11 o'clock service, join some friends from church afterward, and then drive to O'Hara Township to spend some time (and Easter Dinner) with some friends from college. I only see these friends about once a year, but they are dear to me. They were not in college, but in their early thirties, but that is when I knew them. They weren't even dating when I first met them. I met Pat first, and Henry later. They were engaged and married before the end of my freshman year, and theirs was one of the first (if not the first) weddings I ever attended without my family. (And at the church where I want to get married, but BEFORE the renovation, so I remember the gray ceiling with chips of paint peeling off.)

Wow, that's not where I meant this post to go, better get back on track. My dad said that the year my mother was in the hospital, the first person that spoke to her on Easter was the woman coming around for payment for the newspaper. Did she say "Happy Easter"? my dad asked. "Are you kidding?" My father has a great way of telling stories, deepening his voice for effect for that last bit. I'll have to ask my mother more about that story. In some ways, that year is a locked box that is just now becoming opened, as the pain of losing Peter lessens, even for me.

(If you're new here, Peter was an angel baby. Born March 23, 33 years ago, so 1978. Wow. I would have had a 33 year old brother. He lived for about 20 days. It was Maundy Thursday, his birthday, that year.)

My dad and I talked about sunrise services, the ones at my grandmother's church in Washington. We'd meet at a tiny graveyard and the pastor, who was the man who baptized me as a baby and maybe the same man who married my parents, would blow his trumpet. And then we'd have Easter dinner at my grandmother's house and have lamb-shaped cake from her friend...whose name I've forgotten. Later years, we'd go to restaurants so that people didn't have to cook. A restaurant that was NEAR the Wayfarer. The Wayfarer, which is now gone. And no one lives in Washington anymore, even though at one time my great Aunt Margaret, my grandparents, and my Aunt P. and Uncle Klaus and their three kids (yes, right, my cousins.)

The other sunrise service I remember, a picture that I can see in my mind's eye, was across the street from the Union Church in Tegucigalpa. It overlooked the city and like Pittsburgh, the city was hilly, so it was a beautiful view.

I always say that Pittsburgh is the city of my childhood. It has the rivers (like Bonn) and the mountains (like Tegucigalpa.) I remember telling that to a new therapist once and she laughed at me. That was when I knew (though I had suspected) that she was not the therapist for me. I mean, you don't laugh at your clients. Laugh with them, maybe. But not at them.

As per usual, this post is going ALL over the map, and I don't just mean Central America, Europe, New Jersey, and Pittsburgh.

It's funny, I woke up this morning thinking it was Monday and crap, what time is it, I have a chiropractic appointment at 8:30, and I REALLY have to get writing, because my self imposed deadline for a draft of my paper is Saturday. I have written 3 pages front and back, but I have miles to go before I sleep, miles to go before I sleep. It took me a while to realize, um, no, I think it's Easter, and really, I had to check my phone to see if it was Sunday.

I went to a conference on zines yesterday afternoon. I did NOT fit in, in the sense that either I hadn't ever written (or really read) any zines, I didn't have a tattoo, or blue hair, or I hadn't written a book. (Two of the speakers had written books, and while I did bother her in the hall while she was texting, and I was ignorant of her book, I did think she was kind of rude...I mean, isn't one of the points of being at a conference to meet new people that might want to read your book? Or at least to meet with kindred minds? I do NOT want to read her book based on her personality, although I do, based on the subject matter.

(I mean, if you are Alan Rickman walking through a bookstore and someone walks up to you and says, "are you in movies?" I think you have the right to be rude, because, well, he is, a little bit, and I was a COMPLETE naif in that situation. But...I have to let it go.)

Because I've discovered that magazines are one of my "research interests." How lucky that the first bit of mine that will ever be published in a scholarly journal is ON magazines, how I fell into that opportunity. I am astonished at how Providence has lined up things for me. Even that I happened to read the City Paper on Thursday (which I rarely do) because I had left my book on the kitchen table and needed something to read while I ate dinner. And that the zine convention was listed on the front cover...I couldn't go in the morning b/c I had to supervise at work, but I was there for the afternoon, and it was amazing. These were people who cared about Sassy magazine (before it sold out, I mean in terms of publishing quality) and I'd heard the librarian (with blue hair, jello blue, not granny blue) from Barnard speak before...perhaps when I heard Leonard Marcus speak for the first time in Chicago, at the American Library Association conference, that would have been 2005.

Back to the zine conference...there was one amazing moment, when someone asked about cataloging zines and there we were, looking at one of her MARC records, talking about 650s, and 655s (subject headings, genre headings) and I was in librarian HEAVEN.

Afterwards, I still had time before the Pitt Library School Library closed at five, so I browsed the bound periodicals. Found a bunch of cool articles. Which meant that my brain was not dead at five, and so I chose to go to the Sharp Edge for dinner, and after dinner, I sipped my water and composed a grocery list and then WENT grocery shopping.

(This is pretty amazing, folks. By the time Saturday evening comes, I am so brain dead I generally curl in a ball and watch TV)

Well, time to get ready for church. And, um, eat something. Ta!

OH, OH. But first, if you want, visit this link for a trip down mem'ry lane -- Anita Silvey spotlights The Country Bunny and the Little Gold Shoes in her Almanac.

Happy Birthday Aunt Margaret and other thoughts on a Tuesday

Aunt Margaret is my hero, of sorts. She's been dead at least twelve years, I have a lot of her furniture because she died right around the time I moved into the garret and was needing furniture. I have her table and chairs and a little shelf that I use for my collectibles. I also have a kitchen counter thingy. Maybe I'll take pictures later.

But for now, I have to walk to the store (well, I choose to walk there--it's a nice day and when else will I get my walk in?) for milk.

Aunt Margaret was single until she was fifty, when a judge who was friends with the judge she was secretary for stopped by with Mets tickets and AM's judge wasn't there. We know this judge (the one with tickets) as Uncle Ed. They eloped to New England. My mother always describes Uncle Ed as boring, but of course to me he sounds very romantic--not that I'd want my first date to be a baseball game, I'd show my ignorance of the game. And he bought her a pig. She saw a pig and AM said she'd like one, and he bought her one! He must not have lived too long, but because of him, AM was a wealthy widow, and traveled, and made it possible for my mom to stay at camp for extra weeks in the summer, and magazine subscriptions, and such. I only ever knew her as a widow, as I only ever knew my Granny, and since they were both independent ladies that doted on me, I thought this is the life. When I grow up I'm going to be a widowed granny or aunt. (You see the bizarre thought process there, but I was seven, give me a break!) They had time for me, whereas my Grandma had Grandpa and she always corrected the spelling and grammar in any letters I wrote to her. (It was only after Grandpa died that Grandma and I developed a relationship. She still corrected my spelling, but for a few years I wrote her letters every Sunday morning and called her regularly on Sunday afternoons.)

Wow. I didn't realize I had all that family history just on the brim, waiting to spill out. Maybe I'll email this to Sis, since she otherwise never visits...

Oh, and one more thing--Kiki might know this or not--Granny, who is my dad's mom (and Kiki's mom's mom), knew Aunt Margaret through some club...which I always thought was cool, that the two sides of the family had this connection. I'll have to get more details. My family is not so good at telling stories (well, except me, but I don't have all the facts...)

A blogfriend of mine has a quote on her profile. Her husband says about her, "Heidi is an open book, but not a short read." I think Heidi and I share that. We love telling stories. And a story really isn't a story if no one's listening. So thank you my dear ones, for being my audience.

Oh, and in other news, I finished re-reading Girl's Poker Night. I wonder how many times I've read it now. Laura keeps track of that sort of thing on LibraryThing... Anyways, it was lovely, as always. Ruby Capote and I have SO MUCH IN COMMON. And I love the book because she's a columnist and some of the chapters you're not sure if they're a column or not, and then the other chapters are short, which remind me of blog posts...and it takes place in New York, and it's all about Ruby stumbling towards love...perhaps one of these days I'll give it a proper review. But for now, I have to quick decide if I'm walking or driving to the store for milk...I got all wrapped up in it being AM's birthday. Hmmm, she was born in 1898, so she'd be...(you do the math.)

I think I'll drive to the store and get ready for my trip to the moon (I mean Moon Twp.) since I don't know how long it will take me to get there, and if I get there early, I can walk around. Besides, I'll be home in the evening, so I can walk then.

Darn inertia (an object at rest stays at rest, an object in motion stays in motion. A blogger blogging gets glued to her chair...)

Ungluing--NOW!

"When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place."

(The Acts of the Apostles, 2:1, RSV)

"The sanctuary's not air conditioned," I reminded my mom on the phone as we discussed meeting at a Chinese restaurant for dinner before church.

Well, the folks that designed the "prayer stations" tonight really capitalized on that one...

One station had a prayer, When I'm afraid, Holy Spirit refresh me. When I'm tired, Holy Spirit refresh me. And then when you were done, you were to take a drink of cool water as a reminder of the refreshment of the Holy Spirit.

Another station was a fan positioned behind a card table. (This station was duplicated on each end of the Great Hall.) On the card table was a reminder that the Spirit is like the wind, it goes where it wishes. (John 3:8). It felt really good to stand in front of the fan, and one wonders why the fans were turned off for the rest of the service...

Another station was a table, and on it was a bowl of ice. The prayer was something like this: Our hearts are frozen, we are cold: to God, to others. To symbolize our desire to melt, to be open to God, to others, we poured hot water onto the bowl of ice. The visual, seeing the water melt even a little portion of ice, was a reminder that God does melt our hearts of stone.

I wandered from station to station and ended up sitting on the toy carpet by Alyssa's mom, chatting a bit.

And the sermon was like an old camp revival exhortation: "You are the gospel to your neighbor, your co-worker, your friend." Why do people need Jesus? Because they are sinners. Why do people need the church? Because we can't go through this life alone, as forgiven sinners. IT'S HARD!! God is a missionary God, THEREFORE, we are a missionary people. Maybe you think of a missionary as someone in Africa, or South America. When God thinks of a missionary, he sees your face.

Giving the sermon was the pastor of the Pittsburgh Presbytery. Who before he started his message, told us how much the Pittsburgh Presbytery loves and supports the Open Door, because we are trying new things.

At the end of the service, as folks were folding up tables, I approached him and said, "Thank you for coming, it was encouraging." He said something and I said, "We get discouraged." And he said, people care about this church. People are praying for you. It was good to hear. I needed to hear that.

Lilly was there, and sat by us in the beginning, and later, with a veteran, who walked in just as BJ was saying "The Holy Spirit is an eclectic person." The veteran, wizened and looking a little spaced out, held a flag, which he waved. Lilly knew him, which didn't surprise me, she knows so many people, and went and sat by him, and encouraged him. Even the pastor, as he preached, came up to the veteran and thanked him for his service to our nation.

Oh, and John presented our graduation gift to BJ: a gift certificate for a bike. (BJ graduated from seminary on Thursday, woo hoo!)

And I am encouraged. I am encouraged for having spent time with my family, having folks meet my family...and as I am listening to the PBS Memorial Day special on WQED behind me, I am encouraged. I am crying as I listen to an actress do a monologue of a mom who lost her 20 year old son, who writes a in a journal every Sunday sitting at Arlington National Cemetary.

I hope you are encouraged as we enter this season of Pentecost.* These are not easy times, these times in which we live.

As the poet Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote, in his poem "God's Grandeur,"

Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
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;

Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings. (1918)**

*Pente=50, so 50 days after the Passover and now in the Christian tradition, 50 days after Easter.
**First published January 1996; published July 1999 by Bartleby.com; © Copyright Bartleby.com, Inc

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.

oot for a day*

The parents have arrived! The parents have arrived! They inspected looked at my apartments, liked the two new bookshelves, my mother said of one of the ones leaving, "It's Ikea." (Well, it still doesn't fit in my garret.) (Her tone said, "How can you get rid of this, it's Ikea.") World domination? More like Universal control. (sorry, that's a joke based on Youngest's Spring Break List...go read blackbird and make sure you get down to Babs' comment.)

Anyways, if I'm to shower, I better boogey. I spent way too long over at a Fuse #8 production (down on my book blogs list) (I'm not doing links--I gotta go take a shower!!).

We're going to a glass factory? In Connelsville? Yeah, my dad has this thing about glass, he's wanted to go for awhile. Off we go! I'm hoping to get them to go with me to Reign on Me, since it looks good, just not the sort of movie I'd want to see alone (my normal M.O.)

Ciaoziño! (I think it's Italian merged with Polish--it's a Louise family creation.)

*out of town. I stole it from bobbie, who also is going away.

Oh, I'll do links...

Everybody's got one! (Jeff Foxworthy, on familes)

Blogging is just one more form of procrastination, so I'll admit it up front: I am bored! I actually usually go to dinner at 4:30 (right now) so I'll just take a shorter break.

All afternoon I've been yawning--and I'm not sure why, since I woke up without my alarm, I took a quick walk, and I had a decent lunch. I even ate outside!!

But I feel the need to blog, the itch, the yearn, to write, to publish!

And I don't really have anything pressing to say, but I just read three blog entries in succession that actually tie into each other pretty nicely, and as I am expecting my parents in a few days, family seems like a good thing to write about.

• Amy is looking into getting another child into her house--go Amy!
  
• Newlywifed is worrying that her worrying will affect the person growing in her stomach--Amy and the rest think not.
  
• Amalah is visiting her family, and writing about why she doesn't write about family.

It all reminds me of what the redneck philosopher Jeff Foxworthy says at the end of his countdown show: "You're not alone, everybody's family is crazy. Now go kiss your kids and call your mama!"

I used to think our family was immune. We were such a nice family. But my friend Ellie once said to me, "Your thirties is when you realize your idealism of your twenties was misguided." (Not her exact words, but I was in my twenties when she told me that, so you'll forgive my not remembering the exact cynicism of the moment...)

Now I see that our family is a great family, yes. But we have it all, too. Heartache, heartbreak, of all shades and shapes and colors. But I guess the best thing about family is when they love you. My childhood was such that the people that have known me the longest aren't the kids I went to kindergarten with, or high school, even. My parents and my siblings and my cousins, they are the ones that hold my memories. I have a couple of friends that I consider family. But the breaking in process takes time!!

Meanwhile, Kiki remembers my mother reading Uncle Remus. I remember when she came and stayed with us at the lake. Weddings and funerals and holidays...And she might even remember my fourth birthday party where I squirrelled my peas in my cheeks so that I could move on to cake...that would be blowing out the candles...yes, peas. And the Easter that it was so hot we were hunting for chocolate goop. Of course, all captured on family films...

My sister, who can be reclusive, is one of my favorite people. I remember being mad that she liked The Slipper and the Rose, because that was MY movie to like. (I wonder if that's just a big sister thing--it's mine, I don't want to share it!) Her favorite show was Alias, which I've only ever seen 15 minutes of once in the middle of the night when I fell asleep with the TV on.

I'm rambling. I'm tired. North Hills Sally is going to come over tomorrow morning and we're going to whip my apartment into shape for the coming of my parents. So I'll finish up Station #5 on Thursday morning.

Okay, I'm hungry now. Off to dinner...

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?")

Names... (swiped from Jenny)

Thanks Jenny!

I used my real name, not Sarah Louise. My real first name is 25th in popularity for U.S. first names, and 99.9% of people with my first name are girls. Well, Johnny Cash did write that song "A boy named Sue."

My last name, and this will surprise no one that knows it, is 75677th most popular last name. There are about 330 people in the U.S. with my last name. I remember being so grateful when my brother was born, that I didn't have to carry on the family name, though if I publish something before I get married, (or not) I'll use it for publication, as I've been told it's a great name for a kid's writer.

The way I spell my name is not my given name, so there are 0 people in the USA with my name. "While both names you entered were found in our database, neither was common enough to make it likely that someone in the U.S. has that name."

Results on Sarah Louise (Sarah as first name, Louise as last name):

Sarah is 58th in popularity.
There are 2 people in the USA that actually have that first, last name.

Sarah Louise as a first name: no one!! From the FAQs:

• Around 1 out of every 10 people will have a first name not on the list.

Using the same statistical fallacy this site is known for, that means about 81% of people will have both names on the list. In a mathematical coup our scientists have determined from this information that about 19% of people will have either one or both names missing from the list.

"I think it's important not to take it as a rejection of you personally."
Gabriel Caine -- Diggstown.

This was very entertaining!! Some of you know I have been mired down with a cold the past coupla days. I finally went in to work for a few hours (yes, that's all I lasted, but I got some stuff done, and I think all that activity sponsored my six hour afternoon nap--yay!) Also, I had excellent dreams, in which I had fun with folks I haven't seen/talked to in ages. Although, I was wearing weird shoes...I wonder what that means...

And if you can't see the first image, I can't either. Blogger is just being...Blogger. It says "There is one person with my name in the USA." Which is actually false. There's someone with a doctorate in butterflies or something...I googled it, ages ago!!

Hope College and me: Six degrees of Separation

You might be familiar with the game, Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon. There's even a book! You might even be familiar with the play which became a movie, Six Degrees of Separation.

Well, in Pittsburgh, there's only one degree, usually. We're a city with a small town feel. (For instance, I just transferred a hold on a book from our library that will go to another Allegheny County consortia library--for a woman I went to library school with.)

But, you might be asking, right about now, "SL, I have no clue WHAT you are talking about." Okay. So. Degrees of separation: there's a theory that everyone can connect themselves to everyone else by six degrees of separation.

When we lived in Poland, I got to shake Bush Sr.'s hand as well as Lech Walesa's hand. So that would put me one degree of separation between Bush Sr. and one degree of separation of separation from Lech Walesa. Since Bush Sr. is the father of Bush Jr., our current president, I am two degrees of separation from Bush Jr.

Okay. So, of all the places I've been, of all the connections I've made, the connection that has brought the most connections is Hope College, the alma mater of my grandparents (who met there and later got married) my parents (who met there and much later got married) and my brother (still single, and living in Austin).

Hope did send me my first college acceptance letter, but I decided to not attend due to many factors. I have one or two regrets: I always wanted to have a radio show, which my brother did and I'm pretty sure my dad did too. Also, Holland, Michigan is a super cool place with a ton of taquerias. (This is due to the fact that Heinz has their pickle picking operation there--a lot of Mexican migrant workers came up and stayed and so there is a large Mexican community in Holland) (Michigan!! not the Netherlands). My dad quips that the pickle pickers became pickle packers. There is no welfare system--local churches and civic organizations pick up the slack for community needs. Also, this a weekend in January, (THIS POST IS FROM 1/13/07) the college is hosted a symposium with such giants as Lauren Winner (Girl Meets God) , Donald Miller (Blue like Jazz) , and Jars of Clay (the band? I'm sure you've heard of them). Oh, and Derek Webb, formerly of Caedman's Call.

My cousin used to be the president of Western Theological Seminary, which is in Holland, Michigan, home of Hope College. He has had major correspondence with the author of Housekeeping and the more recent Pulitzer Prize Winning (and amazing--I'm reading it now) Gilead, so that would be two degrees of separation: My cousin, 1, Marilynne Robinson, 2.

Sufjan Stevens, the sweetheart of indy music, went to Hope College. I have been to the café his best friend runs, Lemonjellos. I even have a bumper sticker on my car. So that would be the café, 1, the owner of the café, 2, Sufjan Stevens, 3.

Or, I'll be at a party and start talking to someone. "Where are you from" is my opener (I find it's much more interesting that "What do you do?") and inevitably I'll meet someone who says, I went to school in Michigan. Oh really, what school? I've met at least five people from Hope College this way.

Oh, how could I forget the Beleza Seven? My brother is friends with every one of the seven Hope graduates that formed a community coffee house on the North Side of Pittsburgh. I've been there once--and it was so much fun saying to the girl behind the counter, "Do you know (my brother's name)?" "Yes..." "Well, I'm his sister, and this is his mom, and his dad." My mom even got a picture with the girl, whose name escapes me, but apparently my brother was one of her first friends at Hope College.

Other connections? Robert Schuller, the televangelist who hosts the Hour of Power from the Crystal Cathedral once spent a summer working for an aunt of mine. Both he and his son went to Hope.

Lynne Stewart didn't graduate from Hope, but neither did my aunt. They were, however, roommates at Hope in the early 1960s.

Um, also, for those of us who were the person of the year for 2006, we share that title with Rob Malda, creator of Slashdot, which pretty much revolutionized this thing we call the blog. Yep, he went to Hope.

This is all very fun for me, because unless you're from Pittsburgh, you've never heard of Carlow College University (where I spent my first two years of college) and unless you're from Maryland you've never heard of Washington College (my Alma mater).

I cling to the greatness of Hope College...

And a plate of pommes frites is all I need...

All the way home, in the snow blowing down 279, my tires coated in snow, I had one thought. It was a negative one. How easily we get stuck on that broken record groove.

My dad has a huge record collection. I have never actually seen "My Fair Lady" all the way through, but my favorite part on my dad's record is the song "A Patient Man am I" because the record skips and the guy keeps singing "A patient man am I, A patient man am I," as if repeating it makes it so.

Which it doesn't. Repetition, I mean. The negative thought that I had on the way home may or may not be true. But whether or not it is, it needs not flood my mind as I drive home in the dark, snow billowing around.

I have been struggling with this blog lately. I got rid of the site meter (it was making me crazy!!) and/but now I have no clue how many people and which ones are reading unless they comment. (Or walk up to me at my library and tell me so...) (Thanks!!)

I have been struggling at how private/public to be. There are some things I'd rather share with people in person than via this blog...I don't want this to be a substitute for getting to know me, or that me reading other people's blogs becomes a substitute for getting to know them. Of course, blogging isn't all about becoming friends--that can backfire too.

I have to build boundaries around my life. I want to keep my life fresh, unmarred...and yet, I am broken. I am banged up. We all are, just some of us are more prone to admit it. Sometimes I can't keep it in--I will explode. And this year, with the loss of three close friends, I feel a void of people to share my life with. And yet, this week, I have had many chances on and off line, in person and by email, by cell and regular phone to connect--and I thank you all for that. When I called my mom tonight to let her know I got home safely, I said, it's sometimes so hard to focus on what's good when you have that one negative thought. Wisely, she didn't ask what the thought was, and wisely, I didn't blurt it out. We focused on the good. She told me about this new technology at her school--she was so excited about it (I smile as I write this--my mother is such an amazing person and though I will be glad when she retires, I am grateful that she loves teaching so much--she is so good at it.)

I don't know what else to say, except thanks, to a few people who have made this week worthwhile. I bet you know who you are. And please, let's keep in touch. It's a rough world out there.

I guess I'll also say this: if I'm not reaching out to you, it's because I'm protecting myself in the only way I know how. This blog is anonymous for many reasons, but one of them is that it protects the breathing, heart-beating person that lives in the third floor garret. Maybe you are protecting yourself the only way you know how to as well. Only time will tell.

And this too: tears (the kind you cry) and tears (the kind that's ripped) sometimes make us stronger. I am not afraid of mourning this loss, if it is one, but I am not against stitching up the brokenness, either.

And if you don't have a clue what I'm talking about, that's okay too. Sometimes I just want to be a mysterious woman...who needs to defrost her refrigerator.

In other news, I got a letter from Lorelei today. All is well in the world. (Even if it isn't.)

More of the kinds of conversations we have...

Raise your hands if you've seen The Christmas Story. Okay, put them down if you've only seen it once. Twice? Okay, Polly, how many times have you seen it? Wow, that's a lot. Well, let me tell you about me and my mom.

Christmas movies we are familiar with: It's A Wonderful Life, Miracle on 34th Street, and Home Alone. Yeah. Oh, and Amahl and the Night Visitors. We have it on Beta. Yes, that was way before DVDs, Polly.

I have seen The Christmas Story once. Yes, and it was five years ago, when I was in Library School. So now I know about the pink bunny suit and the tongue on the icy pole and the leg lamp. Ah yes, the leg lamp. Which brings us to my mother and I on the phone the other day. We were talking about the Today show.

Mom: So what do you think of Katie's replacement?
Me: Meredith? I like her. I wasn't sure, but then I saw her on Leno and she has a real strange sense of humor. She used to be on the View, not that I ever watch that show. [I only get NBC and Fox.]
Mom: (hesitates) It was her birthday the other day, and it was also Matt's birthday. She took the day off, but she was in the audience, wearing a black wig. And she gave Matt a plastic leg. (You could tell my mom was puzzled and a little not pleased.)
Me: ah, was it a lamp?
Mom: yeah, I think it was.
Me: Mom, it's from that movie, The Christmas Story. The husband/dad wins the top sales prize and in the mail gets a wooden crate that says FRAGILE and in it is a lamp shaped like a leg. The mom is not too pleased.
Mom: oh, yeah, the lamp came in a wooden crate on the Today show, too. I thought that was a little weird.

See? This is what happens when you don't keep up with popular culture. You don't like Meredith, who is really a funny lady and a sweetheart, to boot.

I've never seen an episode of "Welcome Home, Kotter," either.

On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...

Today started out as one of THOSE days. Days when I wish I was graceful and could let things float gracefully, like water off a duck's back.

Hmm, shall we start with the 7 am awakening to clean out my car to get it ready for the new CD player? (NOT LOOKING THE GIFT HORSE IN THE MOUTH)

Or that the drive home from Circuit City is a straight shot down Rte. 7, so I didn't notice that MY TURN SIGNALS WEREN'T WORKING until I pulled on to my parent's street?

Luckily, Sis let me vent, as both my parents are not the allowing you to vent type. Cause, in truth, it's a pretty amazing gift.

And when I finally got the car back to CC, the guy immediately worked on my car and fixed it within twenty or so minutes.

We had lunch with my aunt and cousin at at Latin American restaurant in the District (if you're cool, that's what you call it.) I had a chimichanga which was devoid of goopy sauces--I was ever grateful! My dad for the 6,000th time tried to remind my brother that he could put "Time Person of the Year for 2006" on his resume. Have not yet seen said issue, as it was potentially stolen or lost in the mail (my sister has a subscription.)

My dad said, "Make sure you check out the mural," as I left the table to go to the ladies room. "The one in the ladies room?" I quipped. Which, I must say, had everyone rolling. It's rare that I can one-up my dad on a joke--you gotta take the opportunities when they come...

My bro got me the U2 singles CD, which now resides in my car and will take me for my first leg north. I plan to lunch in Berkeley Springs and make it to Ft. Ligonier by 4ish--I adore their shops!! I'd love to get to Ligonier by 3:30, as they have many lovely shops, but that might be pushing it...

Parting is such sweet sorrow...up til today I was thinking, get me back to Manhattan (I mean Pittsburgh) but this evening I got to bask in my parent's cable (TBS, how I love thee) and chill with the sibs. They are the coolest people I know. Truly. We all shared beers and just hung out. My sister is going to Miami for her 25th (woo hoo) birthday and so I lent her a bathing suit and for her birthday gave her a book called Washed Up (about flotsam), as a token reminder of our beach walk in South Carolina over Thanksgiving. Then I showed her my new favorite French import, I Love, and I read her excerpts from the bio I just finished reading of the first lady. I was grateful that we could just chill.

Bro got a haircut--he looks like one of the Beatles in the early (I wanna hold your hand) years. We had turkey a la king for supper and I, trying to be all suave, said, "Mother, the turkey is kingish" and it became one of those phrases passed around the table and made into an indie rock band's name, we were all howling with laughter.

After dinner, Bro gave us some after dinner music from the Godfather of Soul, the recently departed James Brown. My mother nor my aunt knew who he was until today. (Is it obvious they lived a sheltered life???) Meanwhile, at breakfast, it was revealed that my father's hometown, Hackensack, NJ, is now oft called Crackensack. But I love Hackensack, and that song...

Sunday after church I spent way too much money at the Columbia Baptist Church Bookstore. I used to volunteer there when I was a regular at Columbia five years ago, when I lived in Virginia. But some of the books I knew I wouldn't see again or be able to get via Inter-Library Loan, so...I'll do a book list later.

Currently working my way through An alphabetical life, which is about a woman's journey through bookstore jobs. As a former Fox Books employee and a current librarian, it is ambrosia to just sink into reading it. (Fox Books is a pseudonym for my former employer, taken from the movie You've Got Mail, which I may need to watch this week before the original flagship store closes in downtown Pittsburgh...)

I guess that's enough of an update...all attempts to socialize upon my return tomorrow night to da Burgh seem to have fallen through, but I shall carry on. It's a week where folks are either: out of town, visiting family, in town, visiting with family and friends, carrying on with regularly scheduled programming, or out of town. Did I mention out of town? Anyways, this time tomorrow, I'll be back in town and you know I'll be happy!! (Dancing the Snoopy dance, most likely.)

Oh, and this just in: Gerald Ford died at 93. May he rest in peace. (So we're waiting for #3: James Brown, Gerald Ford, and ______________.)

I may be rushing things, but deck the halls again now.

Put up the brightest string of lights I've ever seen.
Slice up the fruitcake;
It's time we hung some tinsel on that evergreen bough.
For I've grown a little leaner,
Grown a little colder,
Grown a little sadder,
Grown a little older... (Mame)

It's slow season for routine. Everything gets put on hold from now until the New Year. Which means I go a little bonkers. Which means I have a cold. Don't worry, I'm taking my zinc and the day off work. I'll eat my minestrone soup and nap the afternoon away. Right now I'm listening to my favorite Christmas album, The Chieftains and the Bells of Dublin. Well, I guess it ranks #2 to Bing Crosby's White Christmas, but I don't have a copy of that album. The year my mom was in the hospital on bed rest my dad and I listened to Bing Crosby straight thru to Valentine's Day. My mom on the phone today said I seem to key in on all the people that died around this time of year. Well, a lot of people did! If a sister and an aunt died one day apart in June, would I be morbid to key in on that? If you spent Christmas with your dad and your mom spent it in the hospital and you never met that brother, wouldn't you remember it?

My dad's sister died today, six or seven years ago. I remember it because I was the first one in our family to know. I answered the phone and I could tell by his cracking voice what happened--but I gave my uncle my dad's number at work and five minutes later my dad called me back to tell me what I'd already figured out. A lot of people have lost family this time of year. They lose family all year round. I know if my sister/aunt/mother/father/uncle died, I'd want people to remember. Maybe it's that one bit of Catholicism that has stayed with me.

This is from Big Cherry Holler, which I read this morning in Tazza:

"I used to bring the kids here on holidays. We came on Memorial Day, my mother's birthday, and every Christmas. When we visited the cemetary, I would tell the kids stories about their grandmothers. Jack always thought it was creepy, that I liked the cemetary and found comfort there. I tried to explain that this was part of my Catholic faith and my Italian heritage; our gravesites are as important to us as our living rooms. In Jack's Scotch-Irish tradition, a cemetary is a place you visit on the day of burial, and hopefully, not often after that. So when I came here, I came with the kids or alone, sometimes just to sit and talk to my mother." (p. 111-2)

I finished Baby last night before the graduation party.

I did a google search and found this site (HAND: Helping After Neonatal Death). Here's a quote:

"Attending the funeral or memorial service just as you would for an adult acknowledges the significance of the family's loss, as does sending a sympathy card or writing a note or poem expressing your personal feelings...

All of these things will be appreciated on the anniversary of the due date, birth date or death date just as much if not more than immediately after the baby's death. You can be assured that the grieving family will never forget, and if you love them, you cannot afford to forget either. Remember, your attempts to help will meet with the most success if you avoid making judgments and remain tolerant of all behavior (except that which is self-destructive or suicidal) no matter how strange it may seem to you." (emphasis mine.)

So anyways, Happy Advent. I'm working through my grief, because I never did before. You can't microwave these emotions. I'm not going to.

Joy Cherene Louise, d. Dec. 16, 1975

Thank you to all the women who have shared their stories as I've wrestled these past days with the short life of my baby sister, who lived for 8 days, thirty one years ago. There are things we just will never understand, but we can still live through and past and beyond them. Rest in peace, my little darling. I can't wait to meet you on the other side of heaven.

Hang your shining star above the highest bough...

...and have yourself a merry little Christmas now...

Three Christmas parties down, one graduation party to go!

The final Christmas party was a dress-up dessert party. If you didn't dress up, there were decorations like garland or bells or Santa hats to wear. One girl made an oragami star and wore it in her hair. Very festive.

Today's luncheon party was wonderful. Yesterday's luncheon party was also wonderful, except that I lost my lunch pretty soon after it, and so I'll be going in to work every day until Friday to make up the lost time. (I was already behind time and this is the year's last pay period.)

I feel a little (actually a lot) geeky, blogging about a party I just left, when I know there are people still there making merriment. But I have to pace myself and I was starting to fade. It was good to see everybody, though. (The introvert confesses...)

Oh, and my dear brother sent me an email! This is very rare--so it must be celebrated with much fanfare. SHAZAAM, my brother sent me an email. Fanfare, fanfare!

Why did he email me, you ask? There's a new bike path between Northwest Maryland and Pittsburgh and today's Post-Gazette had an article. (It actually is the top of the top five emailed articles for today.) I emailed it to him and in his email to me, he wrote thusly:

haha awesome.

i'm planning my trip already.

thanks for bearing the good news.

A man of few words, my brother. He's the best.

I'm in denial about the other news in today's paper, about Balsillie retracting his bid for the Pens. I remember saying I was going to go to a hockey game this year, and yet, this year is almost over. Perhaps in the beginning of the new year.

Yes, I have hit a new geek all time high--talking about hockey on my blog when there are people playing games and dancing at the party I just left. Oh well, I'm off to read in bed. TTFN!

Online Advent Calendars n'at... (with a little blah humbug squeezed in)

This one is cool--and fascinating, that it gives Protestant and Catholic readings. Thanks to PCUSA Blog.

This one doesn't seem clued in that today is Dec 11, but I like it anyways.

Last night I called Erin. We both agreed that we're just not feeling it this year. I hope you are.

I don't feel like doing the Christmas Meme, because to me, Christmas has always been about traveling, not tradition.

This year it's a little less crazy than it would have been. My brother is going to be in Virginia, so I'll drive down. We were possibly going to fly to Austin.

Here's the kind of conversation my mom and I have been having lately:

Me: So, did you talk to J?
Mom: Yes, we did. Did you?
Me: Yes, so, what are our plans?
Mom: You talked to him already--are you trying to figure out if I know what you know? He's coming up to Virginia pretty soon.
Me: Okay.

Can't fool her!

Take a deep breath. January will be here soon.

Oh, and for easy access to posts that allow you to either laugh, ponder, or take a deep breath, new feature on the left, "Favorite Shoes." I may rename it, but that's what came to me.

Happy Birthday to me! (updated, with more links!)

My mama loves me! I was in that "I had a bad dream I don't want to get up" place, forgetting completely what today is (today is the one day I'm not having lunch with anyone) and the phone rings. My mama loves me so much that even though she hates people using the phone when they're driving, she did, so that she could wish me a happy day. (Smile.)

I also got e-cards from BJ and Lauren. Lauren's had a hippo and two frogs singing, which is appropriate, since in our family a full birthday sing is in three languages (at least): English, Portuguese and Polish.

Sto Lat, Sto Lat... (It means 100 years in Polish and is sung at any happy occasion--like when they brought Lech Walesa in as president.)

8:11 am--my father just emailed me (so typical!) a link to the wikipedia entry for today. Apparently November 28, 1959 is a pretty big day for the town in Argentina named Veintiocho de Noviembre.

2:16 pm--The entire SL clan has now wished me a happy day. Also, instead of Thursday, Sally and I went to lunch TODAY at Mad Mex. At work, I've gotten all kinds of cards. And a mystery: I Inter-Library-Loaned a book that is a Junior League Cookbook from Atlanta? I have no recollection of requesting this book...

Also, Happy Birthday to Jon Stewart, Nancy Reagan, and Gary Hart, among others.

Enjoy the pics.

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!

Internet link established!

Thankful doesn't begin to describe this oasis of time and place. Yesterday's meal was the best I'd eaten. This morning we went kayaking, with myself in the reeds more than five times. As Sis recounted it to the neighbors, "You'd just hear laughing, and you'd know she was stuck again."

I have pix (of course) but they'll have to wait til I return to da Burgh.

Last night Sis and I watched Pretty in Pink. She was the one who figured out the DVD player...

Today we're doing seafood for lunch and Chinese takeout for dinner--with candles on the punkin pie, as my birthday is approaching...

It is gorgeous out here. I don't think I'll want to leave...my aunt's house backs up on a gorgeous salt water marsh. If you've ever seen Dawson's Creek, it's like that. We've seen merganzers, egrets, kingfishers...

Tomorrow I hope to join my dad at the beach for the sunrise--and get some seashells!!

Oh, and this is being written from the "internet cafe" at the Egg Place. We walked--it's less than half a mile but you know, no one walks anywhere here...it's all highway...

Cheers!

"Well I guess if the van breaks down..."

(Michelle Trachtenburg, in Ice Princess)

Somehow, Miss "I never miss the credits" missed that the story was written by Meg Cabot aka Meggin Cabot, Chick-lit goddess. (It's because I don't read credits when I watch videos and I never saw this in the theatres.)

This is a silly chick flick but it makes me happy. I don't need to apologize for that, actually. I happen to be a silly chick.

The main elements: ice skating, two girls rebelling against their moms, Joan Cusack in a serious role, Kim Cattrall in a character role, and well, lots of ice skating. Oh, and a teeny tiny romance.

It's actually very feminist: Michelle's character wants to be an ice skater but her mom is opposed to it because it's a fantasy with girls wearing tiny costumes.

My favorite quote: "What's wrong with wanting to feel strong and graceful and beautiful for once in my life?" (Michelle Trachtenburg)

Kim Cattrall shines in this. It is such a crime that there are not more actual (as opposed to character) roles for women her age.

Well, the movie's about to end, and maybe I'll get a morning walk in. Have a great Saturday!

Update: I'm currently cataloguing a book called Zamboni: the Coolest Machines on Ice. My brother when he was 8 or 9 decreed that I would marry a Zamboni. Not the driver, mind you, but the machine itself. I think this is back when he was planning his own wedding at Pizza Hut.