"It's been 7 hours and fifteen days..."

 (Sinead O'Connor)

So, it's been a week since he broke up with me. Or rather, said, not in a cute Billy Crystal voice, "I would not be good for anyone right now."

And I've been doing a lot of thinking. And a lot of reading. Watching Friends. Thinking about hooking my DVD player up so that I can watch Bones and SATC.

And here's the problem I keep butting up against: I don't think the boy is right now "leading man" material. I want to be "leading lady" material, but it I'm really honest, the boy would be a two episode guy, like the new neighbor that Rachel fogged out with pesticide in the basement and then went on a date, but it turns out he had a really inappropriate relationship with his sister.

And I want him to be like Chandler, who knows that he loves Monica. He actually does remind me of early days Chandler. He also reminds me of Mr. Big, the good, the bad, the ugly.

And the fact of the matter is this: RIGHT NOW, he is not available for anyone. (Which is actually sort of comforting.)

And right now, neither am I, as I grieve what was. We had two amazing months. Because I am a romantic at heart, and because I loved him, I can't, not right now, say "NEVER AGAIN, MR. BOY." I cling to the stories of my mom breaking up with my dad again and again over nine years. (Now happily married for over forty two years...)

This post is full of me writing things and then erasing them. But it just takes time. I've been listening to the audio of "It's called a break-up because it's broken," which was helpful when my high school best friend said she didn't want to be friends anymore. (Because there are no good books about what to do when your best friend breaks up with you.)

I vacillate: is he Mr. Big? Or is he Berger? Or is he that two episode guy? Right now, he's the guy who broke my heart. And I'm the girl who needs to heal. 

And comments are closed. I don't need advice right now. I just need cupcakes. Where I need to get? I will get there. I'm right on time.

(Untitled)

I hate anything untitled. It's like, you made something, but you couldn't come up with a name? Or when people send emails with no subject line. I generally write "subject lines are their own art" just to put something up there. But I'm a writer. Writers do crazy stuff like that. Artists get upset about titles and crap. (Or they get super crazy happy--like, can you believe I came up with a title High Fidelity, which is about music, duh, but you know, also about fidelity, in the relationship sense?) I wonder if Nick Hornby has a blog...

I've gotten all introverted on yins, and I'm actually journalling. Yes, I am pouring out my deepest secrets to me, instead of the Internet at large. It's a bizarre turn of events, I know, but it feels good.

But I do miss you, and so here I am.

So I've been on this Nick Hornby binge and I'm 3/4 (or more) through his first, High Fidelity and I just had to share this brilliant line with you.

"So now what? It feels as though I've come to the end of the line. I don't mean that in the American rock'n'roll suicide sense; I mean it in the English Thomas and the Tank Engine sense. I've run out of puff, and come to a gentle halt in the middle of nowhere." (225)

In some universe, I would love to be friends with Nick. I'd call him that, too, just like I call Jen Weiner Jen, even though her books are clearly by JENNIFER.

Funny thing about having friends with people named Susan. Being one, and having gone by Susie most of my life, I generally only was friends with Susans. (I currently am friends with two and work with one.) (So then you have to use last names.) But after 35 years of life, I've now managed to grab a few Sues into my life as well. And so then you have the awkward experience of calling one of the Susans Sue or one of the Sues Susan. This doesn't happen if you name your children something like James. I mean, it's Jimmy, or James. Well, I guess it's also Jamie, so there you go. Robert can be Rob or Bobby or Bob. (Rob is the main character in High Fidelity.)

It's unbelievably eleven in the morning and I have gotten so into Nick Hornby that I almost said eleven in the f**ing morning, cause that's how his characters talk, just as if they walked off the set of Good Will Hunting. I'm sitting here in my nightshirt, still unshowered. I did eat something about an hour ago. Yes, I'm back in that place where I'm scared to eat for wondering if it will stay in me long enough to properly digest. And I haven't dusted in eons and so my allergies were doing a beautiful showing of it this morning.

And I really should be off getting my oil changed, since if I wait til Saturday, that's when EVERYONE is getting their oil changed. But I think that's what I'm doing. I never have Saturdays off, so I never end up doing anything, because no one expects me to be off. I'll have to do something...because most of the day I should be packing, but I have all of Sunday to do that, too, even though my Puritan sense of Sunday says "Packing? on a Sunday? For shame!" Actually, I think NH Sally is free--and I was supposed to stop by to see her last night after work, but yesterday was a day I hardly got through without Gatorade at my side most of the time, so after work I just packed it in and went home.

Well, I think I could finish High Fidelity before it's time to go to work, so that's my goal for the day. I know it doesn't sound like much, but it really is.

Tomorrow is the Stuffed Animal Sleepover. Wish me luck.

All of a sudden I want to know what kind of tree it is that is outside my window.

I have been wanting to find this poem for some time: The River Merchant's Wife, translated by Ezra Pound:

If you are coming down through the narrows of the river,
Please let me know beforehand,
And I will come out to meet you, As far as Cho-fu-Sa. From the Chinese of Li Po.

Have a little faith in me...

So this week in the Breaking Free study homework, we're learning about obedience. Or rather, we're learning about rebellion. I have a hard time with this, I suppose because I know that we learn best through positive reinforcement, NOT SHAME. And this morning dear Beth wanted us to copy out what a rebellious child of God does TWICE, at the beginning of the lesson and again at the end, like Bart Simpson writing lines on the blackboard, I will not tell lies. So I rebelled and wrote out what an obedient child of God looks like.

One thing I did grab well and good from the lesson though was this new word (well, it is a very OLD word, but new to me): bitchah*. Now before you slam me for using the B word, it's not what you think and probably not pronounced the same way, since it's Hebrew. It is a word for trust and it is only used once in the Old Testament (How often is it used in the NT, she wonders?).

It is the word that means "there is nothing more one can do." So you HAVE to trust. Have faith, and rest in that trust. This is where phoning and writing letters and begging that friend to come back is the opposite of what you should do. Perhaps there are things you did that you need to say sorry for. (There usually are.) But trusting God, trusting, truly trusting, is that word, bitchah. It reminds me of the John Hiatt song, "Have a little faith in me." Because they always play it on movie soundtracks right when the one character has lost faith and might be leaving the other character. (It's used on the soundtrack for Phenomenon and Look who's talking now--huh, I just realized Travolta is in both of those movies, wonder if that's a coincidence?) Whenever I hear that song, I think of someone driving down a snowy road in LWTN, and the melody cries out, have a little faith in me, trust me on this one!!

So many songs have lyrics where it's like, I'm the one for you, trust me, where really, that trust is really only meant for God. When Sarah Brightman sang, "Deliver me...all of my life I've been in hiding, wishing there was someone just like you, now that I've found you, I know that you're the one to pull me through," well of course that's a God song. Because NO PERSON can pull us out completely. So it is fitting that David Crowder took that song and added "Jesus Jesus how I trust thee, how I've proved you o'er and o'er, Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus, Come and pull me through."

And the song "How do I live?" sung by Leanne Rimes, the songwriter was writing about how she felt about music. That her life would be not real, hard to survive, if she didn't have music. Because of course we can live when that person leaves us, dies, whatever. (Which ties into A long way down, the Nick Hornby book I'm reading/listening to, where JJ can't imagine his life without music.)

Can you tell this is something I've been holding in for a long time? I never liked those lyrics that said, "My life was transformed when you came into it," because I've always felt that was something that God did. God may have put that person INTO my life, but it was God that did the transforming, not merely that person's prescence.

I recently read something where it talked about how God gives us people in our lives as a way for us to love more. That friendships are another way of God loving us, and of us expressing God's love. That we NEED that community to thrive.

But I can't find where it was. I thought maybe in Blue Like Jazz (which I finished re-reading last night) or The friendships of women (which I'm working through again.) But I can't find the passage.

But this passage, from The friendships of women, sort of explains it (but it's NOT the passage I was looking for!):

It's important to love our friends, to cherish them, and to be committed to them. Girls and women are good at that--and it's a beautiful side to our friendships. But we need to learn to be dependent, leaning on God, because He's the only one who will never betray us or die or move away. (Dee Brestin)

So anyways, that's my soapbox for the morning. Go and have healthy relationships with people and with God. Happy Sunday morning.

(Oh, and all of what I write is me saying this to me--I do not have this figured out yet, btw!)

--------------
*It's used in Isaiah 30:15: in quietness and trust is your strength... Okay, from Strong's Hebrew Bible Dictionary, I love this, it's the FEMININE version of another word on trust, betach. Of COURSE it's the FEMININE version. Hee...So I guess it's only used in the feminine version once in the OT...still no news on if it's used in the NT...

Sarah Louise goes to Sandcastle (updated)

Sandcastle: a water park just outside the Pittsburgh city limits.

Woo hoo! Steubenville Kelly and I are going to pray that the 20% chance of thunderstorms stays away.

I feel a post about "Jerry Maguire" coming up--I love that movie! Why I don't have the soundtrack is a mystery to me.

And I can't find my soundtrack to "Almost Famous." Yesterday at Tazza they were playing one of the songs off it.

Am reading Nick Hornby's Long Way Down. It is wonderful.

Okay, gotta go!

More songs (Pandora rocks!)

So it's just me in the office, a dangerous combo with my monkey mind. I have Pandora on a station that pretty much plays a steady stream of CCM (Christian Contemporary Music.) I am falling in love with Sarah Groves.

When it was over and they could talk about it
She said there's just one thing I have got to know
What in that moment when you were running so hard and fast
Made you stop and turn for home
He said I always knew you loved me even though I'd broken your heart
I always knew there'd be a place for me to make a brand new start

Oh love wash over a multitude of things
Love wash over a multitude of things
Love wash over a multitude of things
Make us whole

Then this one (Darrel Evans, Trading my sorrows)

I'm pressed but not crushed persecuted not abandoned
Struck down but not destroyed
I'm blessed beyond the curse for his promise will endure
And his joy's gonna be my strength

Though the sorrow may last for the night
His joy comes with the morning

All morning I tried UNSUCCESSFULLY to import a Nancy Drew CD-ROM catalog record. I'll try something else. And I (lucky me) get to come in tomorrow as I lost 5 hrs this week between being sick and having my car inspected.

I love my job, I really do. It's just that I get into these destructive mental circles...luckily I have good friends and good music.

A little bit better...

Woo hoo! Yesterday's breakfast, lunch, and dinner stayed with me!

No matter that I have a wicked stomach ache right now, I think I have crossed the blackout point!

There is comfort in having that conversation with a friend, the conversation you hate to have, but you know you must, or you will never keep down another meal, and that friend says, Bingo! (In agreement.)

Bingo is my new favorite word.

***********

My parents, non-readers most of the time, have been reading Blue Like Jazz. Which makes me want to re-read it, even as I am so enjoying Dinner with Dad, Piano Girl, and...

I pull Blue Like Jazz off the milk carton shelf it sits in, one of the last vestiges of my college furniture. The cover is embossed--I don't think I noticed that before.

I flip it open to the Author's Note.

"I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn't resolve. But I was outside the Bagdad Theater in Portland one night when I saw a man playing the saxophone. I stood there for fifteen minutes, and he never opened his eyes.
After that, I liked jazz music.
Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way.
I used to not like God because God didn't resolve. But that was before any of this happened."

I put the book on my pillow, with the intent to take it with me, perhaps as I sit in Tazza before meeting John this morning. I will be walking home from Midas (my car is going in for its yearly inspection.)

Max is reading About a boy, and enjoying it. It does something to have recommended and lent a book to someone and they tell you they're enjoying it.

The first of three (I think) Open Door babies was born on the 31st! Welcome Ian! So yes, it is raining babies. But they are so very cute... It feels nice not to want one right now, though. I can enjoy being Auntie Sarah Louise.

**********

Last night at our Breaking Free Bible Study, it was just Kelly and I. It's a video study, and years ago, I had watched the video for last night's lesson with Kelly. I had forgotten most of it, except for this: Beth Moore was telling the story of when she was signing copies of her first book. All they could find for her to sign copies was a huge garbage can lid. And she felt it was a reminder that she had been in the trash for so many years. She had been in the trash can, but she never was trash. But that God was the one that took her out of the trash can.

Kelly and I sat for at least an hour after the video, her sharing about her time away, me sharing about my time here. How precious it is to have such a friend. We both have so far to travel...but we are traveling, side by side.

Oy! look at the time! I must go off to Midas.

Books and folksonomy n'at (updated)

Folksonomy: a way to tag things, usually used by Internet based social networks.

So, I've had three four invites for "friends" on Shelfari. Yes, I joined. But I JUST upgraded to a lifetime subscription at Library Thing, so I think Shelfari will sort of be like my MySpace page--a place where I can go to see what my friends are up to, but not something I participate in, per se. Because I really like LT.

And already I'm not crazy about it, b/c it won't let me add Gilead the book and Gilead the audio. But enough about Shelfari.

LIBRARY THING ROCKS!!


And that is where my energy saps out. I have been living the life of a woman who has been awakened at 6 a.m. (no alarm, no dog) (and while I realize all you moms are out there saying, "AND your point is?" My point: I have no husband, no children. Sleep is my one reward.) I want a nap by 9 a.m., which is generally when I need to be somewhere besides my bed. (Also, I'm in my PMS week, when I require more sleep but somehow can't get it. Gotta love those hormones!!)

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

Saturday morning update: Shelfari does allow you to import LT files. I'll think about it. Shelfari is free b/c they get their $$ when you buy books through Amazon off their site. I'm not enamored. I'll keep yins posted.

Oh, and I slept, but forgot my bedtime meds. Oh joy. Today at work will be fun -- not! I have the option to work 10-6, since I told my boss I was going to the HP party. But I didn't, (I opted for sleep) and it's 7:15 a.m.--I think I'd rather go to work at the normal time and get off at 5. Not that I have plans for the evening, UNLESS NH Sally has finished HP 7 by then and lends me her copy. Which is most likely what will happen. And since I haven't read anything but emails or the Bible or blogs in a LONG time, I'm ready for a nice juicy tome. So. very. ready.

NH Sally did something very un-like her--but I won't tell you what until she reveals to the person it's for. But I am extremely proud of her going outside the box. (And it's SO MUCH FUN what she did.)

***********

Oh, and Hot Dog Day was a success. We couldn't have asked for better weather if we had picked it off a menu--a blue sky, it was not too hot...and I manned (womanned) the desk most of the morning so that everyone else could do the set up, but exactly when Bea came to relieve me, NH Sally was out there with her beautiful three children. I can't believe how tall her daughter is--she's more than half legs. And seeing my patrons grow up--Alli is now 12--she was 7 when I started at the library, and she's in the same class as Sally's oldest boy. Gosh, they would make the CUTEST couple. Not that I'm into matchmaking or anything, but THEY TOTALLY WOULD.

Okay, off to my morning walk, to get some of the jangles out of this body. I have no breakfast food in the house, but I NEVER go to Whole Foods on the weekend so I'll have to regroup on that one. (My general daily breakfast is Whole Foods brand organic blueberry waffles.)

Is July over yet???

The charmed life, or Sarah Louise goes bonkers...

So have I told you lately that I love you?

You, my place of employ? My boss did not bat an eyelash when I emailed her today to say that although it wasn't on the work calendar, I would be working on renovating a house during the day tomorrow.

You, Sally North Hills? Who fed me leftover spaghetti and smoozed the evening away--I did go in to work for about an hour which is all my pea brain could stand. I still have no clue how I'm administering the quiz component of the book quiz* on Saturday, but I have enough questions--about 30 per team if no other teams show up. (I now have four teams.) Sally fed me two plates of venison spaghetti, veggies (of course--cuz she's a mama) and we even picked raspberries in her backyard. Plus, she lent me long jeans for the work site since I don't have a pair that fits right now (I've been wearing my J. Jill capri jeans since before Montana--I seriously need to do some laundry.) And I helped her unload and load the dishwasher and lounged on her bed while she folded laundry...I feel SO relaxed right now, I could go to bed.

Which I should, as I'll be at a work site tomorrow at 7:30 (yes, a.m.).

Oh, and did I mention that one of the weddings that I thought I wasn't invited to, the bride merely forgot to mail my invitation and was actually wondering WHY I hadn't responded yet--oops! So on top of everything else, I have a wedding on Saturday. So this week is jam-packed!! (But with nice things. And I will go to the reception for this wedding, as I have eschewed them all summer.) (Which it feels nice to feel that a wedding reception won't be a soul carving experience--I suppose it still could-might, but I'm feeling okay about things right now, and if I can hold onto that until Saturday...)

The invitation thing reminds me of the time on "Friends" when Joey convinced Monica to invite his parents to her wedding and had her call them up to personally invite them. "Tell them it got lost at the post office--they hate the post office. Oh, and the Irish." So, Monica gets on and says, "It must have gotten lost in the mail--U.S. Post office, they should call it the U.S. Lost office! What are they, Irish?"

Well, it's ten, I am going to get ready and hit the hay.

___________
*Officially the Mother-Child Smackdown.

Girlfriends are the best!

So the wicked insomnia gave me 6.5 hours of sleep. Yuk. And of course then my moods were all wonked and no one was home, but one of my friends with caller ID called me back and we talked for like two hours. So all my plans of paying the bills, GOING TO THE POST OFFICE, are naught. But I needed that girl time. SO BADLY.

And now it's time to get ready for work!

But first, take a visit to Kiki's for a fabulous You-Tube. I can't figure how to embed it (I know how, but they seem to have changed how you do it...anyways, this is the coolest thing I've seen.)

Off to check Dewey numbers, then help children sign up for Summer Reading...the glam life of a librarian, I'm telling ya.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ACK!!!

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

"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

"Somebody's gonna drop everything, Run out and crank up their car..."

Never stop to think 'what's in it for me' or 'it's way too far'
They just show on up with their big old heart
You find out who you're friends are

(Tracy Lawrence, "Find out who your friends are")

Yes, I like country music. You got a problem with that??

So....Guess who locked her keys in her car? When I called her, EE Sally said, if you call Triple A, you'll waste a lot of time, I'll come. I was on my way home, parked at the Taco Bell, in Etna, and she is the only person with an extra set of my car keys, so I did call her first, saying, first, "I can call Triple A." She said, "I'll rescue you."

Which, she did, and then I stood outside my unlocked car and she sat in hers and we talked about random things like why Peabody HS had their prom on a school night...

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

Also, thank you for all the comments and emails. I've started listening to It's called a breakup because it's broken (which is a much better book than He's just not into you) and I think my heart is moving on.

So I'm just a simple gal, trying to figure out how to not whine too much and make this relevant but still be me, which is smart but smarting, and not really interested in hearing breastfeeding stories this week.

In other news, NH Sally said (as we sat on her terrace in the shade over lunch), she'll plan my wedding shower and we'll have sangria and we'll play the "mawiage" scene from The Princess Bride. Wow, I'm excited about that. Now I just need to find a man...*

(which for some reason made me think of Monica Geller and her jam plan and then her baby plan.)

*(which made PJ at work grab her hands over her mouth...) (She's often apt to say that the only reason they're still married is laziness--she's too lazy and he never gets rid of anything.)

Bed. I think it's time to go to bed.

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...

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...

and yet, she can't stay away. the screen draws her in, like a moth to the flame....

Oh man. It's ten in the morning on a Sunday no less and I've spent the past 45 minutes doing what? Blog hopping. I did write a letter (yes, on real paper, with a pen on paper) to Lorelei, but when I went to the desk to grab some stickers, my hand brushed against the mouse and the computer...it was alive...

(I keep my computer on. It hibernates or something. I know it's not the best policy for electrical conservancy and security, etc. but my computer is haplessly running on Windows ME and it hates to shut down. When I occasionally DO turn it off, it takes five minutes, it makes rude noises, and it invariably changes my wallpaper. Now that my taxes are fini! I can move towards purchasing and installing Windows XP...) (And, no, I'm not ready to jump on the Mac bandwagon, thanks for thinking of me--I saw that thought balloon forming in your mind--you know who you are.)

So I browsed my new favorite blog (see yesterday's post) and found a whole world of Holy Cards. As a woman who was a card carrying Catholic for almost 365 days, (and a wanna be for at least three years prior) and an owner of at least five holy cards, I found Julie's story fascinating and wonderful.

Then, because I somehow find Pat's friends interesting, and he hasn't posted anything new for ages, I hopped over to see Liz. I commented on her thoughts on comments, and coined a new phrase: a responsible overseer of your online domain. (She was writing about the whole blogger code movement.) (That inaudible 7 minute pause was me searching for a link and coming across Kathy Sierra's blog and reading a fascinating post on multi-tasking. Ah...I'll save my thoughts on that for later...)

Katrina has recently added "Kind Blogs" as a button on her blog and I clicked on it a few days ago and I think I'll join. It's a shortcut to knowing that the content you find here will not be intentionally hurtful and that by reading my blog, hopefully "I've helped in some way to make your day just a little bit better." It's like a non-MPAA label. You'll find surprises here, but they'll be kind ones. They'll be within a certain parameter of courtesy.

A while back I remember reading a blogger writing about comments and since I love the comment factor of blogs--I like knowing who is stopping by, I love what I call "blogversations," I tuned in. Said blogger talked about how some bloggers let the comments rip. They write the posts, you write the comments, and never the twain shall meet. Then there are bloggers (I'll now call them the "responsible overseers of their online domains") who read comments and respond to them. Some folks even email folks back every time someone comments. As I am trying to limit my time online (SO NOT WORKING!!) I don't see how I would do that.

Besides, I don't have everyone's email address.

I don't like comment moderation, as a) it seems like so much work--having tried it and b) it prevents the natural generation of blogversations--while you sleep, women in Australia could be reading and commenting on your blog and when you wake up, voila! a letter from the other side of the world! Maybe many letters!! Maybe, could it be? a blogversation!!

Warning: the following paragraph is rife with parentheses, brackets, links, strikeouts, and all other sorts of bloggy silliness. When I started this blog (almost two years ago) I was looking for a way to share my words with the world. (I had recently spent way too much money and time trying to start up a website about chick lit that was going to make me rich beyond my current knowledge.) I knew at least one blogger (Babelbabe of BTS) and Marian (the Librarian, who was largely responsible for my foray online...) had her own little online community kingdom going. I know two folks from my high school who met their spouses (for better or worse) online in the days before e-Harmony (blech!).

[Disclaimer: I had a really bad experience with e-Harmony but they did refund me my money and I have heard of folks who have found lasting love that way, so take that with a shaker of salt.]

Our library sponsored Jessamyn West for our staff in-service day and I've never looked back. While half our staff was like "Boo! hiss! I'll never use the Internet for blogs or Flickr or other cool stuff," by the time the day was over, I had come up with a name for mine. Pink Sneakers and Pocket books. At the time, I had a pair of BRIGHT pink (you might say fuchsia) sneakers and I loved the play on words of "pocket books"--it could be a pocketbook (purse) or a pocket book (small paperback). Since then, my blog has been named everything from Rose Slippers (for a brief moment in time) to just plain Pink Sneakers to its current Pittsburghese loving name, Pink Sneakers N'at. Poppy (a blogger I love) calls me Pink Sneakahs on her blog roll, and for that alone she'll always have a place in my heart. Babs called me Sary Lou once (I can't remember the exact situation) and so that's how I fit my moniker on a USS something PA licence plate that I made yesterday when

I-could-not-stand-being-a-cataloguer-for-one-more-second.

It was my mindless mini-break in a day of checking Dewey numbers, correcting catalog records, and writing responsible emails.

Where was I going with all this?

Oh, I was telling yinz how I spent 45 minutes hopping 'round the blogosphere. And I just spent over an hour in the telling which might take you 10-15 minutes to read if you don't get distracted and click on all the links.

It's a crazy world out there--look both ways before you cross the street! I'm outta here!!

Eclectic...

I love discovering new blogs, new authors, new music, new...but I also love the old, the familiar.

I have been told all my life that I'm good at writing the middle but I need to work on my introductions and conclusions. So-be-it.

I look at other people's blogs and see their blogrolls, all alphabetical, or in one format and think, oh, it looks so clean, so organized, and yet I know that while I might borrow some of what they do, I will probably have some that don't fit a format because I'm fairly eclectic.

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ec·lec·tic [i-klek-tik] –adjective
1. selecting or choosing from various sources.
2. made up of what is selected from different sources.
3. not following any one system, as of philosophy, medicine, etc., but selecting and using what are considered the best elements of all systems.
4. noting or pertaining to works of architecture, decoration, landscaping, etc., produced by a certain person or during a certain period, that derive from a wide range of historic styles, the style in each instance often being chosen for its fancied appropriateness to local tradition, local geography, the purpose to be served, or the cultural background of the client. –noun
5. Also, ec·lec·ti·cist [i-klek-tuh-sist] a person who follows an eclectic method, as in philosophy or architecture.

(from Dictionary.com)

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So, my taste in music, my taste in movies, my taste in books...all eclectic. I even have an eclectic taste in friends. I am a children's librarian and I love kid's books, but I love working half-time in Tech Serv where I get to work with AV (DVDs, CD-ROMs) and non-kids books ("adult books" somehow insinuates something else...)

Do I like Madonna? Yes. Do I like Patty Larkin? Yes. Do I like Martina McBride? Lucinda Williams? Christine Lavin? Yes, Yes, Yes. I love Johnny Cash. I own five Menudo LPs from the early 80s. I adore Carole King.

I like Home Alone, Twister, Enchanted April, A Knight's Tale, Metropolitan, Men in Black, and Flushed Away, to name a few movies.

So my blog doesn't fall easily into a category either. I'm not really a library blogger, though I am a librarian. I'm not really a kidlit blogger, though I am a children's librarian. I'm not really a literary blogger, but I do often write about books. I'm not a mom blogger, though many folks on my "roll" are. I have bipolar disorder, but this blog isn't really about that either. I love crafting, but it's not a craft blog... I'm Presbyterian/Emergent/Christian but my blog isn't just about that experience either. A little bit of this, a little bit of that. Eclectic.

My life has been enriched by time spent in the Americas: Brazil, Honduras, and the U.S. (mainly Maryland, Virginia, and Pittsburgh, PA) and Europe: Germany, Poland, and traveling all over the Continent as well as a short trip to England when I was 8.

My life has been enriched by my siblings: born when I was 10 and 11, my world has expanded to include them and their eclectic tastes, although my sister is pretty straightforward in her reading: she likes Regency period romances, Jane Austen, and all the classics (she asked for The Hunchback of Notre Dame for her 13th birthday--the book, not the movie.) She watches old movies. My brother is into music and listens even to Bessie Smith. He loves Bob Dylan. They both are huge U2 fans.

My dad likes country music, and I do too. My dad reads the New York Times and at least two other papers online DAILY, and often will email articles that he thinks I'd be interested in, from obits of children's authors to articles about libraries.

My mother is a nature lover. She gardens. So I have tulips in front of my house in Pittsburgh, planted when I was in library school. For her birthday, I bought her a huge bag of bird seed.

My parents aren't big readers (of books for people their age) -- my mom knows a lot of kid's picture books as she currently teaches second grade but has also taught first, third, kindergarten and preschool. My dad, like the protagonist in the movie Metropolitan, reads book reviews, but not books. He'll tell you what a movie is about, but 9 times out of ten, he hasn't seen it. He is also well versed in children's books, and his favorite, if pressed, would probably be Daniel Pinkwater's The Big Orange Splot. "My house is me...it looks like all my dreams."

Um, so in conclusion, I'm eclectic. Or, as a card I once bought in college said, "I'm glad you like me. (inside:) I'm too wierd for anyone else."

On the bookshelf right now: The Restless Heart: Finding our spiritual home in times of loneliness. As a person who spends WAY too much time by herself, this book is incredibly insightful and in some ways like looking into a mirror that says, "You are okay. You are human."

You say goodbye, I say hello. Hello Hello...

(The Beatles)

"People change and forget to tell each other." That's a quote from one of the meditations in Mediatations for women who do too much. I'll maybe try to find out who said it. Right now I think I just need to get this out.

I'm not a gracious person when it comes to goodbyes. I want to stay in a place forever, stay friends forever, people to not move away or make decisions that change the status quo.

Case in point: I have not moved for twelve years, I didn't even move when I left this garret for my parent's house for three years. I kept the apartment because a) I didn't want to change 2) I knew I wanted to come back, and finally, because it made sense at the time.

I hate goodbyes. I, who have said a final-seeming goodbye to someone at least once every three years of my life--they're moving or I'm moving. I, who often have associated these final-seeming goodbyes with the telling of secrets (appropriately and inappropiately). I, who have feared abandonment, who still fears it, deeply.

I have stayed in relationships longer than I should have because I didn't want the change. I have stayed so long that when I ended it, the other person had no idea that I'd been thinking of ending it for months.

Even though I'm not exactly happy with where my life is going right now in some departments, I don't want to rock the boat, add or subtract something, for fear of CHANGE.

For my first semester of my senior year of college, I had a paper on my wall. On it were these words: Change is the only constant, in different color markers. It was the worst year and the most full of changes of all my college years (well, except for my freshman year.) (It did have some "it was the best of times" moments too, don't you worry your pretty little head.)

Change is the only constant. You can never walk in the same river twice. That's Hereclitus, my favorite Greek philosopher. I think he was pre-Plato. I think there's a name for that.

If things don't bend, they become brittle. If things don't change, there is a stale odor. And yet, I resist change. I know change is healthy, and yet, I resist it. Tooth and nail, I cling to the familiar.

All that to say: I am watching my friends move on. They are changing jobs, getting deeper in love, they are getting engaged, married, having first babies, having second ones. This is wonderful. I applaud them for where they are going. I do. I am. But the selfish part of me that clings to what is familiar says no! You have to stay here, with me. We'll be crochety old ladies with arthritus and we'll sit on the front porch and watch the world go by. We'll hate everyone and everything, but we'll have each other and it will be the same and familiar!!

See how crazy this is? See how worked up I get? And why? Because if you're changing and I'm staying the same, maybe we can't be friends anymore. Or if I'm changing and you're staying the same, maybe I'll leave you in the dust. Or maybe we're both changing, just in different ways, in different directions and that's scary too.

Meanwhile, I am changing: I'm becoming a better librarian, I'm trying new things, meeting new people, moving furniture around, and always and forever changing purses, sometimes on a daily basis. For me, the girl who moved again and again, this staying in one place is a real change for me. For me, the girl who worked for Fox Books for four years in which she sent out resumes every six months, to be at a job that I can imagine retiring from. Over half of my life was spent in the three year cycle: move somewhere, get to know it, get ready to leave. This not moving, this staying put, it is for me, a change. Maybe I'll stick around. Put down some roots.

I didn't really see how this had anything to do with Lent (and I did say I'd be writing about Lent this week) but it does. I am Peter. At the Transfiguration, I want to build a tent and stay there. When Jesus says he must suffer, I say, you know what, you don't really have to do that. And yet, when he is a criminal, being taken off by soldiers, I deny once, twice, three times that I even knew thee. It hurts less. Go. Just go. We were never friends. I don't know what you're talking about.

A movie image just came to me, of the little boy in Jerry Maguire, when Dorothy is about to drive off to San Diego for "that job." And Jerry tries to say goodbye and the boy says "Go. Just go ahead and go," fighting back tears, pretending he doesn't care, but caring, deeply.

Also, if you're changing/leaving and that's a part of a healthy decision on your part, and I'm not-changing/staying, am I being unhealthy? The mind plays all these questions, baiting the heart, saying, "You must! You should! Why aren't you?"

• Keeping up with the Joneses?
• Shopping retail?
• Drinking free trade coffee only?
• Finding a boyfriend, getting married, having babies?
• Reading these books?
• Blogging less?
• Blogging more?

And none of these things are the point!! If making bread is your thing, go! Make bread. Knit! Have babies! I applaud you. I'll be over here, re-reading the Jennifer Weiner oevre, blogging at my own pace, living my life at my own pace, shopping at Goodwill, giving away perfectly good Ikea shelving, thinking about an MFA in Writing, rearranging furniture, being a darn good librarian...

Which brings me to a man I love. He has been in and out of my life since I was four, and he's still here, very much alive on Channel 13, even though he's been dead almost five years.

I love Fred Rogers. Of all the shows I think I missed out on the most as a child, I think his is the one. I remember watching Mr. Rogers in our living room in kindergarten and well, when we moved to Germany in the fall, he just wasn't there. Thankfully, he made shows until I was a library student, and I actually met him once...but I think if I'd had him there with me in Bonn, when the kids made fun of my last name, if I'd had him in Tegucigalpa when the kids made fun of my non-talented kickball playing...

So in this current crisis, I think that Mr. Rogers would have a song to sing to me about not wanting to change, to grow. I don't want to change! I don't want to grow! And you shouldn't either!

Do you hear him, in the corner of the room, softly singing? "It's you I like. It's not the things you wear. It's not the way you do your hair, but it's you I like."

When I was in Warsaw, some of the darkest times of my life (haven't written much about that side of Warsaw, have I?) I would make myself smile in the mirror by singing "It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood..." (i have always wanted to have a neighbor just like you. i've always wanted to live in a neighborhood with YOU.)

Here's one about growing and changing, though:

"You're Growing"
You used to creep and crawl real well
But then you learned to walk real well.
There was a time you'd coo and cry
But then you learned to talk and, my!
You almost always try.
You almost always do your best.
I like the way you're growing up.
It's fun, that's all.

CHORUS
You're growing, you're growing,
You're growing in and out.
You're growing, you're growing,
You're growing all about.

Your hands are getting bigger now.
Your arms and legs are longer now.
You even sense your insides grow
When Mom and Dad refuse you. So
You're learning how to wait now.
It's great to hope and wait somehow.
I like the way you're growing up.
It's fun, that's all.

CHORUS
Your friends are getting better now.
They're better every day somehow.
You used to stay at home to play
But now you even play away.
You do important things now.
Your friends and you do big things now.
I like the way you're growing up.
It's fun, that's all.

CHORUS
Someday you'll be a grown-up, too
And have some children grow up, too.
Then you can love them in and out
And tell them stories all about
The times when you were their size,
The times when you found great surprise
In growing up. And they will sing
It's fun, that's all.

I had a conversation with an old friend after church on Sunday. We hadn't talked in ages, as he goes to Bellefield and I to the Open Door. He and his wife are moving to Washington, PA, where he'll be a resident, to finish up his medical training. How have you been, he asked. And somewhere in the telling him, I blurted out this: "I'm watching all my friends get married, have kids, move on." And bless his heart, this is what he said. "I bet that's hard." NOT, "You'll find someone." NOT, "hang in there." No. He validated where. I. was. He wept with the weeping, even though I wasn't literally weeping, nor was he (though I am now, writing this, tasting the tears as they fall down my face to my lips.)

Wow. That feels better. A year ago, I came home from Massachussets after having spent two weeks there: one at a library conference and one at a friend's house. I spent April Fool's morning picking up trash in Highland Park with Nick and Lauren, who live in ENGLAND now, talk about changing and moving. My Massachusets friend and I are estranged right now. I'm actually estranged from three other key people from last year this time. One I doubt will ever rekindle, but the others are question marks. And if you have read this far, you know that I don't like question marks. Exclamation points, yes. Periods, commas, yes. But question marks? Something's not certain? I'm not too crazy about those things.

Somehow this post wants to end with some more poetry, so I'll cull some key lines from a man called merely "The Preacher."

For, there is:

A right time to cry and another to laugh,
A right time to lament and another to cheer,

A right time to embrace and another to part,
A right time to search and another to count your losses,
A right time to hold on and another to let go,
A right time to rip out and another to mend,
A right time to shut up and another to speak up,

For there is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven. (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8)*


*I took a few liberties by using two translations (The Message and the NIV) and choosing only verses I wanted to highlight and by putting the first verse last.

Harper Collins...messing experimenting with books

The new paperbacks of the Little House series are out. The covers are photographs of people dressed up to be old fashioned and the Garth Williams illustrations that used to people the books are GONE!

This is worse than when they decided The Magicians Nephew was Book One of the Narnia series!! At least then they kept Pauline Bayne's illustrations!!

Ursula Nordstrom is rolling in her grave, I know it.

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

Update: found this wonderful blog (KEWL) and a Harper's editor who has been overseeing the repackaging came in and said, It's only one edition, we're still keeping the editions (paper and hardcover) that have the Garth illustrations. PHEW!!

I happen to be doing Freaky Friday for Mother/Daughter on Saturday and had forgotten how "bad" it was (the mom smokes, there are curse words...) It fits the UN (Ursula Nordstrom) "good books for bad children" oevre. Btw, did you know Mary Rodgers was the daughter of Richard Rodgers (as in R and Hammerstein????) She was very instrumental in putting together Free to be you and me, which shaped my view of the world back in the seventies... (when I was a child.)

Oh, and if you click on the "Nordstrom" part of the U.N. link (above) you'll read one interesting tidbit...UN never went to college!! And this woman shaped how we see Children's Literature today, capital C, capital L.

Autodidacts of the world, rejoice!

Oh, and go visit my darling friend Caro. She just had a birthday, has joined the post-beta Blogger world and changed her moniker from Carolyn to Caro because I had been using it to address her. Little old me!! It boggles the mind!

Footnote: I think I may need to start contributing to Wikipedia--they are such an invaluable source (of most of my links in this post).

Oh, and in case you were keeping track at home: it was either 9 or 6 when I woke up and now it is 13-15 (degrees Fahrenheit).

TGIF, everyone. I may (yeah right) take the weekend off. Hey, it could happen! I just found some parts of the main portion of my "story," the one I'll be using in my application for the MFA.

Chuß! Tschüß (it's pronounced chuss and it's ciao for the German speaking population.)

Yeah, I actually don't think it's going to work out, but I'm pulling for you, Ru.

(Phillip Seymour Hoffman as Sandy Lyle in Along Came Polly)

I love this line from Along Came Polly, a movie I only watched because a co-worker recommended it, who loves Ben Stiller. This guy, Reuben (Ben Stiller) is a risk analyst and he does everything cautiously. In walks Polly (Jennifer Aniston), who walks to the beat of shall we say, a different drummer? Polly introduces Reuben to Latin dancing, spicy food, and her blind ferret.

The whole movie you're right there with Phillip (we're likethis) saying "I don't see this happening." I mean, c'mon!!

**********SPOILER ALERT****************

Ben and Jen end up together--it's a beautiful crazy chaotic thing.

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

I've been thinking about age lately (well, I did just have a birthday.) And it occurs to me that if you were to count my life in growth spurts, I'd probably really be 25. I've had to spend so much energy smoothing out my bumpy road that I haven't really been doing things that women my age are doing: buying houses, having their third child, getting job promotions.

Cue Rascal Flatts' song, God Bless the Broken Road...

And I am fine, working the mommy track at the library (yes, that's what this laissez-faire system of flex time is called.) I am happy at my job. I am happy in my apartment. I do not want to have to pay for a new roof, furnace, or think about siding.

I've been reading this great book, The Joy of Doing Things Badly. Actually, I haven't been reading it lately, because it is lost somewhere in my apartment. Probably in a purse I haven't used in weeks. But when I find it, I'll tell you more about it, because that Veronica Chambers is my hero. She is not afraid to live her life.

Right now, I'm still reading How to be Perfect by Jean Kerr and loving it. Oh, and I finished Good Will (the second novella in the collection by Jane Smiley called Ordinary Love and Good Will). Heartbreaker, but oh so good.

(That part was written in November.)

I have now just finished Gilead. It was so good that from Etna to twenty minutes later--it only takes me seven minutes to get home from Etna--I was sobbing. The first three quarters are slow and plotless but meandering. Best suited for audio books, actually. Believe me, it is SO worth the wait. And last night I had dinner at C&A's. Cameron has finished it, Amber has not, so we couldn't fully talk about it, but, we were able to talk about another amazing book, East of Eden. And then my phone rang. It was my dad, calling from Dallas. (They're most likely in Austin now.)
Today will be cooking, something, for the community dinner, and breakfast. I need sustenance! So here are a few pictures:

To remind me to work on my writing...

This was taken at my library, from the parking lot...

I think boys kids are playing hockey on Lake Carnegie. I would if I was a boy kid.

So, yes, yesterday, I worked a full day, I finished Gilead, I walked on water (albeit frozen) and had a lovely evening among friends. Maybe February isn't all bad. Lilly and I have sworn off boys and are going to Panera or something for Valentine's Day.

It's eight degrees out there, I don't want to know the wind chill, thankyouverymuch!

And I'll be at church at night, without the advantage of the sun. Yeah, this will be layer city, I'm thinking...

So a few words on blogging. I have added a few to the right (and I still laugh at when I first did a post on adding things to the left and Poppy was like, um, is your screen aligned differently?).

I have been spending the morning at Poppy's. We're kindred for many reasons, including she is also a Sagittarius. I sometimes worry about how I spend too much time on one blog, commenting five times in one day, are they going to think I'm stalking them? Because, truly, I'm not. I'm just bored out of my gourd, this being the fifth day of this cold and I've only been out of the house twice. (Friday, to spend some much needed time with my peeps, and Saturday to work a few hours and grocery shop.)

Yesterday I wrote a rant about how everyone in Pittsburgh has their family nearby (except lil ole me). It was a little too ranty for my own taste, I may tone it down and take it out of drafts. I'm also crafting a post on "Mama Said" because mine is the smartest woman in the world. Or so she claimed, when I was in fourth grade. Nowadays she denies that she is the SWITW, but to me, she always will be. In my real world, I'm working on a "positive piece" about the bus crisis in da Burgh to publish over at I heart PGH. I will not be publishing it under Sarah Louise, or linking it to this blog, but you're smart enough to figure out how to find it, I'm thinking. While I do not currently ride the bus in da Burgh, buses are an integral part of this vibrant city and...well, they just can't take away 100 routes without a fight!!

My diet is pretty much oatmeal and ramen soup, clementines, water, and zinc. Although the zinc is not really helping--it usually clips the main pain of the cold after the first day and hasn't this time...

So, I have added on the left, I mean the right, Colin, a student at MIT. Found him through Pat and Adrian. There's this fun Pittsburgh expatriate vibe going with Adrian and Colin...anyways.

Also, Jenny. She is a hockey mom and very funny. The meme below this post is one I swiped from her.

Let's see, oh, I added Paula's photo blog, Finding Beauty, to the "Bohemian Shoes" area. I'm considering stopping the whole "Shoes categories" because I have a definate order in which I read them--it should be like "Everyday shoes" "Once a month shoes" "Once a week shoes." Because some of my friends don't update but every two months (but I still love them to pieces!!) I think there is a way to fix the HTML (maybe with RSS) so that you can see which ones have updated (because Bloglines is like crack for me--a bad idea) I think the PCUSA blog has that going on. Maybe since I'm homebound AGAIN today I'll work on that. Or maybe not. I feel a nap coming on...

Also, church is during the SB, but GO BEARS!! I wonder if You Tube has the Superbowl Shuffle...

(The super-fun music video was pulled due to copyright worries, but this gives you an idea at least...)