ohmigosh how did it get to be ten o'clock?

GAH! Well, I fell asleep on the twin in the back room after watching three episodes of SATC (I don't think it's necessarily a good thing that while I'm standing at church I'm thinking I'd rather be at home with my girls.)

Then I tossed and turned for about an hour at 2 a.m. when I went to the bed in the front room. Then I woke up at about eight a.m., wrote an email to a college roommate via Facebook, accepted a friend request from the pastor of the church down the street that I sometimes attend Sunday mornings, wrote about the bizarre dreams I had on my "health/women's stuff" blog, formatted the long paragraph from the email I wrote to my friend about the third blog I've started...and that brings us to now, and it is 10:05. I better eat something. I have to be at work at noon, Marian and I are doing a "Monthly Forum" on "Things that make libraries look stupid" (i.e. do you know how one goes about becoming a board member, etc.)

(off to eat something.)

I'm back. I bought a slew of vanilla yogurt yesterday when I was at Giant Eagle, so I'm eating and writing. I'm not sure that's entirely healthy either.

So why a new blog, SL?

Well, I am very aware of what I write about and how this blog is really about me being a girl/woman, my daily life, my love for SATC, etc. It can be at once very surface and very deep. But I have a sense (and it's not based on recent comments, hint hint) (since I haven't been getting many, hint hint) (but thanks for the ones I have been getting!) that the readership of this blog transcends politics. The health blog is where I let it rip about being a woman and sometimes being a woman with a mental oh, I hate those words--disorder? illness? The third blog, which I've entitled "Stuff n'at" is where I want to let it rip about politics and how I see my development in that arena in the past coupla years.

I keep coming back to a line from the season five finale (of SATC, is there any other show?) where in the commentary, director and writer Michael Patrick King says, "Carrie should never be pregnant." It wasn't so much that she didn't have the capability, but that Carrie was the odd one, (square peg makes me giggle) the one that didn't fit the societal expectations of women: getting married, having children, joining the PTA. So in the way that MPK wants to protect Carrie (by making sure that Sarah Jessica Parker's baby bump is hidden, at all cost) I want to protect this blog. This is not a blog about mental health, women's health, or politics. But I am a woman, I am a person politic, and I do have issues with mental health. From time to time, the lines will blur--I don't want to be completely compartmentalized, but I do want this blog to be the fun one. And yet, I want a separate place where I can write about politics and know that if the readers of this blog choose to hop over, they will, but if not, they can skip it and stay right here.

I also see it as if they were separate books. If I were writing a book about me, and myself as a girl/woman, I might not talk about politics. But if I were writing about politics, I might not write about me and my girl/woman life.

About the other stuff. I'm tired of surface relationships in my off-line life. This summer I had a glimmer of what real relationships with people at my church could look like. And pfft, it's fall, everyone is back to school, back to life, meetings, PTA, homework. So here I am, no PTA meetings, no homework, and surface relationships again. It's so frustrating!! I know it's not necessarily "the world's" fault; I have retreated, hibernated, and yes, there have been some shifts. But I see the world coupling up and I get scared. Mother to son, husband to wife, girlfriend to boyfriend. And all these pregnant women. Where do I fit in? So maybe there's a reason that I cling to my "girls." Because I don't know anyone in my life, people that I talk to, that are talking about these things. When I talk to my friends, we don't talk about how everyone's pregnant all of a sudden. We talk about other things. But I need to. I need to talk about how everyone's pregnant. I need to talk about how it feels like I'm getting left behind. (And of course, there is the flip side--the women that have kids, have husbands, feel that they are losing their friendships.)

I'm a fan right now of a bunch of Christian fiction books, the Sisterchicks. Mostly, the books are about women who are midlife and have a chance to fulfill a childhood dream of traveling to Paris, or Finland. The thing I love about these books is that the women who are in them, if they are married, they stay married. If they are single, they stay single. The books are about women, but they are not about romance, and any romance that is in them is with the geography, or their amazing Creator, or trying to figure out how they are still stuck on the memory of a summer love in Paris from twenty years ago. Also, the women may be married, three car garage, but for the time being, the book is about them in Venice, with their girlfriend. A book that is not in that series but in my mind that genre, which I call, um, let's see, Christian travel fiction, is Daring Chloe, which was a freebie from my dear friend Suzanne Beecher at DearReader.com. I belong to the Zondervan Breakfast Club and so every week I get excerpts from new books from Zondervan, be they "Chick Lit," non-fiction, biography...her tag line is "It's so good to read with friends" and that is what I feel about you, dear readers of this blog. The thing that I love about Daring Chloe is that not all her friends are Christian, her roommate doesn't understand why one would go to church, and while there is a guy who could be a love interest, he is not the focus, and does not become a love interest by the end of this book. So Chloe who starts the book by being jilted at the alter, remains single throughout the book.

Is it painfully clear that this is me just writing, not really going for a thread that make sense, not saving a single solitary thought for another post?

Twenty years is a theme for me--it keeps coming up as I watch SATC. "I've been dating for fifteen years" Charlotte moans in the early seasons. But in the later seasons, Miranda says, "I've been dating for twenty years." As I think about the fact that in a few weeks I'll be 37, well, it will be 20 years of dating, as my first mis-guided relationship was when I was a girl of 17.

We each have our journeys. And we each have our time tables. And they are not all the same journeys, or the same timetables. But they intersect, every once in a while, and that is worth all the traveling in between.

Thank you, my darlings, for reading.

Stolen moments

(I think that must be a name of a sappy song they play on "nostalgia radio")

So I'm sitting here with wet hair, no socks, and no, I'm not taking a walk around the block today. TOMORROW I will take a walk.

But I wanted to have something else up, in case you were tired of politics. (I'm not, I might start a third blog with all the cool YouTubes n'at, now that he won.)

So...if you haven't been here for a while, scroll down, I finally posted some pictures. They are pretty. (And some are pretty in pink.)

And now I'm having a bit of blogger's block. Yes, right in the middle of my stolen moments post.

Well, okay, I'll give you sumpin. Someone I know is turning 37 at the end of this month. (YES, it's me!!) And I'm having a teeny tiny get together. And I invited a boy. And for once, I don't care on pins and needles if he comes. He is not the crown jewel around which the party has been planned. He was almost an afterthought, if I were that cool. (I'm not.) But if he does, he'll be the icing on an already great cake, and I will do my best to play not so easy to get. Oh, but I sure hope he's my lobster. (It's only fitting that I give you a Phoebe clip, since the entire paragraph has been a Phoebe-ism.)

Okay, gotta find socks. Buh bye!

Yes, yes we can.

More to come. But for now, the thought that has come that yesterday, working as a poll worker in the city of Pittsburgh, yesterday I was both the obstetrician and the nervous pacing father and the screaming mother as I helped my fellow citizens give birth to the vote of the 44th president, Barack Hussein Obama.

But for now, I need to get dressed (oh, and eat breakfast) and sing songs to some 80 children and parents.

I'm taking the afternoon off (hopefully taking both Sally and Marian the Librarian to lunch first) and to work on (gah!) the latest resume/cover letter.

"If you want a friend in Washington, get a dog. --Harry Truman." (Tim Russert's wife on the Today show right now.)

Gee, do I have to turn the TV off? Thank you, Lord, for NPR. I am so glad that I can now listen to the radio with hope and no more political ads, woo hoo!

I promise a real post this afternoon, including a link to the speech Obama referenced (Lincoln's first inagural.) I have no time to link now.

Mwah! And I mean that, to my readers on both sides of the aisle. Let's be the dream, not a red, or a blue, but a United States of America.

...and I'm outta here! (image of Dennis Miller, SNL Weekend Update style.)

Sarah Louise walks down Ellesworth part deux

So this is a coat from Kaufmann's, a store that no longer exists. It was swallowed up into Macy's. So this coat is a piece of Pittsburgh History. Hey Betty. I asked the guy who was working there if I could take this picture, saying I'm such a Pittsburgh sentimentalist. In high school, a friend of mine's mom was a seamstress for Raleigh's, a department store in the D.C. area. There just aren't department stores like that anymore, where items are made with the store label.

In front of an orthodontist. (Across the street from the Vet hospital.)

So this is one of the shots I took of the Veterinary Hospital. The other shot has a window that says "meow." Too cute for words.

I liked this window. Eons.

After lying comatose in front of the TV all morning, I finally got myself out and went to the Elbow Room for lunch. Then I remembered that Katy suggested I take a walk, and so I did. These pictures and the ones in the next (or previous, depending on your outlook) are the result. It felt really good to be out and about, just window shopping.

Sarah Louise walks down Ellesworth n'at

Okay, um, the first thing I notice is that there are only 4 photos here. You are getting the play by play as I learn to do this, and yes, I know Flickr is amazing, I'll try that NEXT weekend. For now, we're playing around with Picasa.

So this is a cataloger's joke, sort of. At my library, we do what is called "descriptive cataloging" which means we describe what is on the title page. I think there are other types, but since I never thought I'd be a cataloger, I am only aware of what we do. So Paul O. Zelinsky, who did the pop-up book of "The Wheels on the Bus" has done a pop-up book of "This old man," called Knick Knack Paddywhack. (It's from 2002.) And this is the title page (minus the title) and the t.p. verso. I never have seen a pop-up book actually make the t.p. verso information interesting.

This is my calendar. Monday says: GO TO BED! Tuesday says GET UP 5 AM. Wednesday says Whatever. He rules. (Which is my reminder that whatever the outcome, I am a citizen first of God's kingdom, not the United States of America. (Corny, yes, but that's me. I'm corny.) I've never voted for someone who lost before, and I have no idea if I will have this time, but this time I care more than other times, having first switched viewpoints, then candidates before the primary, and now having supported one guy up 'til now. I voted absentee on Tuesday past, since we expect high voter turnout. I usually can slip away to the poll that I vote at (.5 miles away from where I work the polls) but would rather not have to worry about that this time.

This is the first Ellesworth picture, of the stairs of a residence. I just love the leaves. You can barely see that the sidewalk is brick at this point and there is a flier on the third step up for a pizza place.

I adore letters. Real postal mail, from someone I love, makes me dance the Snoopy Dance. So this letter slot, on the door of an antique store on Ellesworth, was surely one to take a picture of. I took two and was not able to center either one, but I'm not trying to be Ansel Adams here.

Trying this from the other way...

So the last post was from Picasa, to my blog. This one I'm starting from Blogger. We'll see how this goes. Um, okay, we're going back to Picasa. See you in a bit.

testing 123

So this is a test. I'm trying out the "Blog This!" feature on Picasa. A woman I work with who I think could truly exist in the wilderness as a pioneer woman (is there nothing she can't do?) made this bumper sticker. I'm a weinie when it comes to bumper stickers--I guess I'm more like my mom than I think I am (the woman who won't tell you who she votes for, even if it's so obvious.) My dad doesn't believe in bumper stickers, which I think is why my brother put tons on the car he drove in college. I'm in the middle. I had a bunch on Melody (the Geo Prizm I had before Lucy) but none on Lucy. I felt like Lucy wasn't long for this world, like she was a car that had my liscence plates, not "my car." And since I've had Elliot (the blue grey Chevy Cobalt) I haven't run up against any bumper stickers. (Except for the political ones, and well, like I said, I'm not that kind of gal.)

Okay, I'm gonna try to bring in the rest of the pictures I took today.

What you doin' Sammy Jo?

(Carrie to Samantha, "Sex in the Country," SATC, Season 4)

Author's note: this post will make more sense if you're familiar with the HBO show "Sex and the City."

This past summer, I commented to both an old (long time and older in age) friend and my therapist that I sort of felt like Samantha. Their eyes bugged out until I explained that Sam is about 5-7 years older than Carrie, Miranda, and Charlotte. While people are forever asking if I'm a student, I've discovered again and again that a lot of my friends are 26, my sister's age. My two closest friends are five years younger and five years older. Well, most of the women my age (36, a month from 37) have children and houses. So two things: I don't meet them, because we run in different circles, and two: we don't necessarily have lifestyle similarities. That doesn't prevent friendships, since one of my dearest friends has the whole kit: three kids, two car garage, minivan. I have the additional weird factor of growing up (grammar school) overseas, I don't even have all the pop-culture pieces that distinguish the typical 36 year old woman in middle America. (Wherever that is.) I'm familiar with the shows that the 26 year olds watched, because I watched them with my sibs, who are now 25 and 26. I seem younger, because along with having great skin (thanks Mom!), I don't have kids, the house, the husband. I seem younger because I lost a lot of time spinning my wheels before my diagnosis. So I fit better with the 26 year olds, except that I have already voted in four presidential elections.

(That was a ramble...) The other thing about Samantha, something I aspire to, is her non-judgmental sensibility. In SATC-TM, Sam is the one who comes with food to a depressed and sleeping Carrie, who has slept through at least a day and a half.

Carrie: "I'm tired."
Samantha: "That's okay, eat something, then you can go back to sleep."

Sam doesn't want children, but is kind of the mother hen out of the four women. (Miranda may be a mother, but she is NOT maternal, except to Brady, and Charlotte wants a child, but she's actually the youngest of the four and it sometimes shows. No one could make any sort of case for Carrie being maternal.) Because I've seen the entire series more times than I'd like to admit, I have certain portions memorized, and other portions that come to the surface when I need them. If only I had the same diligence with my Beth Moore homework or memorizing Bible verses...

For whatever reason, the conversation that came to mind tonight as I drove home was between Carrie and Samantha in "All or nothing" (Season 3, episode 40). After a house-warming at Samantha's new apartment, Carrie stays to help Samantha clean up. She tells Samantha she's having an affair with Big (Carrie is dating Aidan, Big is married to Natasha.)

Carrie: "Don't you want to judge me a little?"
Samantha: "Not my style."

*****

I voted today. As an election worker, I can usually leave my post where I work to drive half a mile to vote where I vote. But there are no guarantees concerning next Tuesday, (don't forget to vote!) so I drove downtown this morning, on the last day you could apply for an absentee ballot. First, I went to the Federal Building. FAIL! Then I drove across town to the City/County Building, and went into the wrong building. FAIL! The entire time, in my mind was an unhealthy tape, that I should vote for the other candidate, it was the "accepted" thing to do according to "everyone." Boy is that inner voice dangerous. When I go that black and white and start naming "everyone" as the boss of me, it's usually one or two people that have judged me. Fortunately, when I got the paper ballot, my candidate was the first name I saw and it was as if it was the only name I saw, I filled in that bubble with my blue pen--I voted!! We had a referendum--Should we go into debt to clean up the water? Um, yes, let's please be healthy. That's a worthy thing to go into debt for.

At the end of the day, I called Bird (my sister) and crowed, I voted!! I just needed to tell someone! And be excited about it!! I got her voice mail, but crow I did! I've never been this excited about an election, but the act of voting itself was pretty mundane, standing in the City/County building with people who were going to be in Florida next week. I told Sally when I got to Bible Study this morning, but she knew that's why I was late, and I just mouthed the words, as the Beth Moore video had already commenced.

As for my Web 2.0 life, today I emailed, twittered, DM'd (Direct Message on Twitter), chatted on gmail with my boss about coming in late because my back was doing crazy things, and chatted on gmail with a friend while I was warming up to finish the pile of Dewey number checks. Oh, and I'm blogging! And I forwarded some blog links to my dad and a few friends. How grateful I am for technology. This morning before I left the house, I called my dad, because I wasn't feeling so hot physically or mentally. I needed coffee, and a hug. Before we hung up, my dad prayed for me, which I so needed--I needed to hear someone ask God to bless me. How I adore that man.

So all in all, a day well lived. I learned from my boss that if she is called as a reference for me, (no, I don't have news) she can't tell them about my health. It's illegal. I am grateful that I am able to be honest with her, and she encourages me to no end, but she knows that it is time for me to move on, when the right job comes my way. What a blessing she is. I went for dinner at the fancy restaurant at the bottom of the hill because I needed a little Sabbath. I can't take time off right now, but I can do little things, like have Bleu cheese dressing instead of my usual choice, Ranch.

Day is done. Gone the sun. How do the rest of the words go? Well, it's nearly eleven o'clock and Wee willy winky is I'm sure asleep by now, so I suppose I should tuck in too. I have a whole bunch of kids to sing to tomorrow morning.

G'nite. It's been nice writing to you, dear reader. You do put a smile on my face.

Wine

I just sent an email to a dear friend who has been attacking me for my voting choice. I have thrown in the towel and asked for the conversation to end (even when I asked her to not write me until after the election she wrote right back and said, but have you considered this??). I may have lost this friend. I hope my words were soft enough that I could eat them if I had to, but I am exhausted. This was the third and final attempt at words that might not make her see fire. I didn't want to lash out at her the way I felt lashed out at, but as I said in (was it only the last post?) the last post, it is so hard to get tone when you are writing on a screen.

I found this in a compilation of Madeleine L'Engle's writings. It's from the poem "Crazy Jane talks with the Bishop" by W.B. Yeats.

Love has pitched his mansion in
The place of excrement;
For nothing can be sole or whole
That has not been rent.

Well, I feel like, in my earlier angry thoughts at this friend, my exasperation, that I was in the place in excrement. And that maybe the only place to get out of there, if she is not going to honor boundaries, is to break boundaries and possibly "rent" (as in, rip) the relationship.

Maybe I can sleep now--what's done is done, and only in the morning or the next morning or the next will I either get a white flag or another diatribe on why I am wrong. Or maybe she will wait until after the election. Time will only tell.

In other news, my apartment is a mess. Nothing new there. But the new thing is that I have decided to have my birthday party at a restaurant. Because then I won't have to worry about buying too much or too little food and drink. And because I'd rather work systematically at the mess here, instead of just moving mess from room to room. I am exhausted. Oh, did I say that already?

This summer I moved the back room into the front room so that the sofa could go down the stairs. Then I moved the contents of the bathroom out into the kitchen so the plumber could unplug the bathtub. Then I moved the contents of my car into the basement so that I could carpool to the retreat. So now I still have things from the back room in the front room. I still have the contents of my bathroom in the front room. And while my car is pretty clean, I have no idea where my umbrellas are. (In that big plastic container that holds most of the contents from my car?)

I need to do laundry. I need to do dishes. I need to call the Student Loan folks and say, um, we need to reduce the payments. I need to see if I can get an absentee ballot (if we're as busy as we hope to be, I may not be able to slip away and vote at my own polling place, which is not the same polling place as the one where I'll be working on Election day.)

Ugh.

But, on the bright side, I have a roof over my head, a reliable car (and a full tank of gas) and maybe one pair of clean underwear. That's a big maybe.

I'll try to see if I can get some sleep.

Email, politics, friendships, n'at

So I have had an increasing problem with email, especially in this politically charged, what is it 13 days to go?

Because there's no tone of voice. There's no, "Hi, how are you," to gauge how the other person is doing before you practical joke them or tell them their faith hangs in whom they vote for. To put it another way, you have no idea that when they get an invite to your Tupperware party that they are broke broke broke.

Now, this is the part you have no control over. (You didn't know their kitty just died.) Yes, people reading emails need to chill too (Yes, SL, I'm talking to you!) (Okay, okay, okay.) But you do have control over your words. You do have control over thinking hmm, should I invite this person? Should I send this politically charged email to the person who will most likely disagree and be angry? Is it worth the heat? Sometimes it is worth it. But often, it is not. Often it drives a wedge.

Yesterday I spent most of the day in the ER. Yes, the Emergency Room at Shadyside Hospital. A dear friend drove me and sat with me. (Bless you, dear one!) I have some unpronounceable "itis" which is basically an inflammation of where the breast bone meets the rib cage. I was experiencing chest pain and shortness of breath. I feel better now, but yesterday was all kinds of uncomfortableness until I finally got to the pain meds. Recovery includes pain meds, more chiro visits, and warm compresses.

So I came home yesterday, exhausted, blurry, and I opened my email, at almost 4 pm. I had not eaten lunch. I was not in my right mind. So I opened an email from a dear friend who yes, disagrees with me on politics, among other things. When the email said "in this season of election" I thought it would be a prayer, because she is one of the most deeply spiritual people I know. But I mostly always open emails from her because she is a dear friend and remember, I hadn't had lunch and I'd been in the ER for over 3 hours. So to discover that it was a mass email saying I couldn't possibly be a person of faith for voting the way I was voting, I kind of shut down. I haven't yet deleted the email, but I will be deleting it very soon. The email, not the friend. I can't afford to lose her over this. She is a dear dear friend, whom I love. So I wrote to her this evening and said can we please not communicate until after the election? I hope I was able to write lovingly, but with email, there is always a danger.

Folks, these are phone calls, if you dare them. These are talks at a coffee shop if you live close by. Or, these are silences until mid November, or even longer, if you know there will be an impasse. These are not "I can't see you, (I'm writing things to the screen) but I have my ideas, so I'm going to spout them out." What are the three things you don't discuss in polite company? "Politics, religion, and money." Email, though it seems intimate, is polite company.

Let's be friends on November 5, whoever wins. My life (hopefully yours neither) will not end if the side I'm not voting for wins. I will not be pleased, but I will still live in my third floor walk up, I will still work at the library, I will still be related to people who voted opposite. People whom I love dearly, therefore, with whom I don't talk politics.

This is the first year I've really followed presidential politics, paid attention to the issues beyond the local scene. So I've been excited and GREEN. By green, I mean, I have talked to some people I should have stayed away from, and I have read articles that I knew would irk me. I have even posted things on FaceBook and gotten flaming (what my friend Heidi calls more heat than light) emails. This political piece is a learning process. My dear mother doesn't tell anyone who she votes for, doesn't talk politics. I wish I could be that way--but I am too excited to be in the issues and at work, frankly, most of us are on the same page. So at lunch, Marian (the Librarian) and I share stories. And at work, once we find out co-worker's allegiances, we pass on "oh look at that YouTube, or that website." But care is necessary. Be care full. Full of care. Because you may be tramping all over someone's American dream. And that, my friends, is not cool.

I still want to be friends with folks I know now after November 5, irregardless of their political leanings. I love my friends, even when I disagree with them. And moreover, I like having friends that don't agree with everything I say, because that is how I learn. I either learn that I believe more strongly in what I think, or that they may have a point, or that neither of us has a clue.

I do know this: I have great friends. I have dear relatives. Not all of them will be voting the same way I do on November 4. I cannot convince them. I will not disown them. I cannot. I must not.

So the next time you think about emailing someone even if it is your neighbor whose dog is driving you INSANE, think about tone. Think about how your email comes across to someone who is checking email after a day in the ER. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

(This is one of those posts where I am writing to myself more so that to any of my dear readers. I need to learn what I am purporting to "teach.")

Taking a break...

I'm in panic mode. But you'd never know it, sitting here in my jeans, writing to you, with SATC in the background.

(It's called--Sarah Louise didn't eat breakfast until ten minutes ago and now she's using the rest of the episode to decompress.)

Decompress from the major stresses of life:

• the debate last night gave me jitters.
  
• I couldn't sleep and slept around 3 a.m.
• I am going away this weekend (yes, that sounds stress free except that going away for me is never stress free. But I have my meds taken care of, and the next thing to tackle is my car--because I might be carpooling.)
• I can't afford my Master's degree (the one I got so I could be a librarian a couple years ago) and will need to renegotiate my student loan, AGAIN.
  
• My car insurance went up with the new car. I need to talk to my car insurance company about stuff.
  
• I still have this cold or a bad case of allergies.
  
• (Oh, and I was supposed to go to the allergist this morning which I didn't know until 11pm last night) (I called at 8am and rescheduled.)
• Oh, and I don't know if I have the reading material for the retreat this weekend. It might (please let it be) in the car.
  

Okay, enough decompressing. Time to check the car (which, did I mention I'll have to clean up if indeed I am carpooling?)

Thanks for listening. I hope you have a chance to take a few moments too. What's your decompressing M.O.?

Oh, it's my favorite part of this episdode. Maybe I'll just watch the end.

(and I did.) Now, the car...

Being bipolar

So a reader of this blog emailed me recently, because she saw that I had written something about being bipolar.

Not her actual words: "I couldn't believe that you were bipolar because you seem to keep your life together." She has family members with bipolar and attends meetings for family member support.

I always like to say, I have bipolar, it doesn't have me.

I like to dispel the images that people have of mental illness: images they get from the media, including the movies One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest, Girl Interrupted, What about Bob? (just to name a few.) I can't watch them. Images in film that I find a little more palatable: the uncle in Little Miss Sunshine who was depressed because he was jilted, the mom in About a Boy that attempts suicide, the woman in Cosi who is dealing with drug issues. (Funny, all of those movies feature Toni Collette, and two of the characters in this list are played by her.)

A bunch of confessional memoirs by people with bipolar disorder have been published recently. I can't read those either. Not to be petty or snarky but they are too drama queen-ish and don't reflect my experience. Not that I only read books that reflect my experiences (I've never been a mole learning about the joys of rivers, for instance) but I find reading books about mental health issues are either full of information I already know or experiences I narrowly (and gratefully) missed by what I can only call the grace of God.

Last night, in a fit of insomnia (darn that afternoon nap) I read the entire book Ana's Story. It's the story of a girl in Central America who has HIV. She is 17, has a child, and has lived most of her life with her HIV as a secret, even from her best friends. There is such a stigma. This is one of the reasons why I blog anonymously. I want to be able to write occasionally about my mental health, but I don't want someone to be able to Google me and discover information that I do not want to share broadly.

It was such a joy to get this email, so encouraging to have someone who knew a little bit of what I live daily, but also to have someone say you seem to have a stable life. I am very hard on myself. When I look at my apartment, which at the moment is in shambles, or my kitchen, which is full of unwashed dishes, or my piles of dirty laundry, I forget to look at the small amounts of progress: I have some clean silverware. I have clean underwear, clean towels, and clothes to wear (clearly I own too many clothes). Today I went grocery shopping and pretty much stuck to the list, which means I have food in the house for at least a week. Which means I don't have to rely on restaurant food.

It was a joy to have today to myself. This week I stupidly went over to Max's FB page (WHY do I do this) and found that he wrote about me as "a woman I know that is mentally ill." It took a day and a half of soul searching to realize that it was more that HE wrote those words than the words themselves. Yesterday I ran into someone I have been interested in on and off for a couple of years. I was glad to not have to hash those two issues out with my therapist just yet.

But one thing I did realize, as I was writing an email back to the woman who emailed me about bipolar. I have been wringing my hands over the fact that I lived undiagnosed for about ten years. That I lost those ten years. Which in some ways, I did. But the blessing is that by the time I was diagnosed, I had pretty much developed my identity as a quirky woman who loves books. My identity is NOT wrapped up in my diagnosis. It is a part of who I am, much like the fact that I lived overseas from age 5 to age 12. But it doesn't define me.

I love the Walt Whitman quote, from Song of myself:

Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

Observers of this poem say that it is not so much a poem, but a list. And so I give you a contradictory list, I leave you to get some vittles.

1. I am an open book (except for when I'm tightly closed)
2. I'm low maintenance in relationships (except for when I'm not.)
3. I am a world traveler that longs for a hometown.
4. I am a de facto Pittsburgher but will never really belong as I was not born here.
5. I long to live in a place where I don't need a car, but I enjoy driving country roads on the way to my current job.
6. I believe very strongly in my beliefs, but I will fight for you to believe what you believe, even if we completely disagree. I actually prefer having a group of friends that don't exactly always agree with me.
7. I adore the show SATC and yet own very few labels and only one pair of high heels.

I'll stop there, because I need to figure out dinner. Listen to me, I need to figure out dinner, not "I'm off to microwave whatever is in there." (Which is probably still true, but I have choices!)

One last note: I had swordfish for lunch. I did the hot foods at Whole Foods. With drink, my lunch was less than $7.00.

Tomorrow is the election in Canada. They'll be voting for Prime Minister. I hope you will join me in praying for citizens there.

Where is Almanzo?

We all read the books. I think my favorite was the one where Almanzo builds a house for Laura, complete with drawers for sugar, flour...I guess our millennial example is the closet Big built for Carrie, except that there was more drama there...

So as I clean my apartment, preparing for who knows what? I tackled the silverware drawer. Out came the orange rubber silverware holder that I got at a hardware store but reminds me of Home Depot (there was no Home Depot in Pgh when I bought my silverware holder, but it is the orange color of HD signs.) I thought about Almanzo. I bet he built a drawer for Laura that had divisions for spoon, fork, knife.

As I ponder life these days, I think about how I will never be the geeky one who loves to balance her checkbook. So does that mean I have to suffer through that minutia? Or can I set up checks and balances so that I know what's going on, I'm not surprised, but that doesn't require entering every single last receipt or transaction. And how so many of my friends have already married that guy or gal. But it's just me. I'm the one that cleans the dishes, does the laundry, brings home the bacon, fries it up in a pan...

I also wonder in my mind what kind of conversations Carrie, Miranda, Samantha, and Charlotte would have about the upcoming election. I see Charlotte as a Republican, the rest as Democrats. (Well, maybe Samantha would be a Republican too...) I would love to see them talk about politics, the current issues. I would like to watch THAT episode. They'd talk about Cindy's dresses, Michelle's shoes. And much much more...

I also am thinking about where I want to hang my hat when I'm done with this flat. I have told my therapist I want to live closer to my family, which does mean my parents and sister in VA, but that NYC would put me closer to my extended fam, people that aren't likely to travel out to the Burgh. And since I don't have a ring on my finger or a baby in my womb, it's more likely that I'm the one who will be doing the traveling. That's okay. But I do want that connection with my second cousins. We don't have a big family, but the people that are scattered mostly in the New York area are people who I love to talk to. People that I saw a lot more of when my parents were overseas, because I couldn't go overseas for Thanksgiving. I feel that the life of my family grew when my cousin Kiki started her blog. But I want more.

Also, I'm pretty much a city girl. But I wasn't unhappy for the two years that I lived in rural Eastern Shore Maryland for college. (But I was in college...)

I want a situation where I'm driving less, not more, in terms of my daily commute. Right now all the grocery stores I go to are within 7 minutes. But I drive a half hour or more each way to work. Not that I want to move closer to my current place of work, because I'm NOT a suburban girl, and then I'd be moving away from all those great grocery stores.

I want a situation where I know the mental health services are top notch. Pittsburgh has some of the best clinicians on bipolar disorder--I don't want to move somewhere rural just to be geographically closer to the fam but have to give up my quality mental health care.

Sometimes I think, maybe I should just stay here. I know a lot of people who would applaud that. I wonder how much of a children's librarian I am if I really am only interested in reading to babies? (Huge generalization, I know.) But right now I'm working in an area where the kids are so over-programmed that library programs can't compete. It seems that all school age kids want are Webkinz and books off their AR lists.

Economics trumps all of these, but does it? Can I learn to live below my means? Pay off my debt, live on what I make?

My brain is so scattered. And I'm so sick of this cold. Where is Almanzo?

Broken things...

I'm a little late to work. I start the car, the radio comes on--strange, I was listening to a CD. I try to switch it to the CD and the display says LOCK. The book in the glove box says take it to a GM dealer and for once I do so. I call in late to work (I know, I know, it was a stupid radio, let's not go there...) So I spend an hour before work and $30. I drive to work, put a lot of records in the catalog (including 3 CD-ROMs!)

[The span of 7 hours go by.]

I come out of work, start the car, radio comes on, and I try for the CD and AGAIN with the LOCK on the display! This time, my brain remembers something, and realizes that the first time this happened (not this morning, but shortly after I got Elliot, the stealth blue Cobalt) was when the temperature abruptly changed from cool to warm. Yes, my CD player gets cranky in the heat. Great.

By the time I was 10 minutes into my drive home, the radio worked. I think I'll wait to finish my audio book when the weather turns cold again.

(Did I mention I live in a third floor walk-up?) (Yes, it was warm when I entered the abode after a hard day at work.) (Thankfully the a/c units are still in, I put them both on Fan.)

First movie: Friends with Money. I should always be suspicious when a movie says it opened at a Film Festival (unless it is Little Miss Sunshine.) This was the "Good Girl" Jennifer Aniston, not the "Friends" Aniston. I made it for about 20 minutes until the point where her blind date is trying to help her clean out a client's refrigerator. (Her character, Olivia, was a pot-smoking maid.) It was too horrible to continue.

Oh, did I mention the book I spent my last dollar* on yesterday in the book nook died on page 56 over lunch today when I realized the woman power was going a little too...um, earthy for me. Besides, I could already figure out who she was marrying, the plot was soooo see through. No, because then you'll want to read it. It's not worth it. And if I do mention it, the author will google herself and she'll see I didn't like it...I am too nice sometimes to be a good blogger of the Badger, Babelbabe, Poppy genre. Sorry, gals, to disappoint.

Let's see...so as soon as I killed Friends with Money (ejected it from the DVD player, no real violence, it belongs to the library), I put in Bring it On, a movie I'd been wanting to see for a while. I shouldn't have waited so long. The library copy must have been in a contest for the most scratches. And the thing was, it was a good movie. I wanted to watch it, so I tried my darnedest. But it would play a scene (great, great!) and then it would freeze frame (no, no, no!). I think I might have given it 45 minutes. I'll send a note with it when I return it, and maybe our librarian that deals with DVDs can resurface it with the fancy machine that's in his office. It runs on electricity and distilled water.

I, these days, run on Emergen-C, Corasedin, Sudafed, episodes of SATC, and lots and lots of peppermint tea. Oh, and sleep. I think I hear my bed calling me. I'm hoping this cold goes away SOON.

In case I don't post until Tuesday, Happy Canadian Thanksgiving and Columbus Day (or whatever the PC name is now.)

And for the record, I did some dishes tonight. Not all of them, but some. It's progress.

_______________
*not my last dollar, but the last dollar I had allotted for frivolous purchases such as Book Nook coffee and paperback novels.

Twitter meme--6 things

hmmm...I have to post six things that I've never revealed on this blog and then tag six people. Darn that Dani... I'm pretty much an open book (except for when I'm closed tight), so I can't imagine there are six things...but we'll give it a shot.

1. I love pineapple upside down cake. I had some last night due to the birthday of a friend's son. (I literally did a word search on my blog for pineapple to see if I'd ever mentioned that.)

2. I'm allergic to ragweed. Which is in the chamomile family. Which is related to Echinacea. Early in the days when Echinacea became popular (the late 90s), I had a cold and bought something at the health food store that had Echinacea in it. My throat almost closed up. Fortunately I worked in a bookstore, and we found an herb book and looked up the ingredients and found out the problem. This discovery made me realize why I had always hated chamomile tea. It always made my throat scratchy.

3. I hit a co-worker once. I also hit my brother once. Both of these events happened around ten years ago. People that know me cannot believe this, as I am fairly docile and not apt to fly into a rage (of the sort that would cause one to hit another person.) Both times, I was able to patch things up. End of story.

4. I do not like tea that is so sour that it requires you to add a lot of sugar: Raspberry tea if you get it at Tazza D'Oro, or the Cranberry Apple tea that is in our stash at work. I really like peppermint tea, especially because my brother recommends it if you are not feeling well. (Also, you don't need My brother is a tea connoisseur.

5. Two more! Ummm. I hate the book The Giver. I know, it's so brilliant, blah blah. I just don't like it. I like Lowry's other books, though.

6. Last one! When I was a senior in high school, I got a perm. One of my friends in college "refreshed" it in our dorm bathroom when I was a freshman. At the time, my hair was shoulder length. (I suppose now you'll be wanting pictures...)

Okay, now to tag 6 folks that haven't done this...

1. @alyssacreasy at life on rural street
2. @badgermeetswrld at badger meets world
3. @bibliophile81 at a work in progress
4. @cuileann at the holly and the ivy (except it seems maybe she stopped twittering...)
5. @schmutzie at milk money or not, here I come
6. @amydi143 at pretty shiny

Off to tag folks...

Coming up for air...

I feel as if I've abandoned this blog, for all the posting I've been doing lately.

And a bit of it is Twitter, but it is mostly life. I don't know how to talk about politics with out passion and I don't think this is the place for it. I don't know how yet to talk about being a woman on the verge of 37, with hopes and dreams, some dashed. I don't know yet how to talk about the realization that I in some ways lost ten years (from 17 to 27) acting my way through undiagnosed bipolar disorder.

But I did want to say hello, dear reader.

I'm listening to Home by Marilynne Robinson, and I'm on the last disc. I've been weeping. But it keeps me from hearing the political ads, the ones that cut your soul. I'll be getting a new book to listen to today.

So I won't talk about the fact that I read the New York Times almost daily online, and that I've watched every debate. But I will tell you this: as you decide who you're voting for, pray for this nation. Because there is always the chance that the man you want to win won't. And you will need to accept that, and the nation will.

And watch the men themselves. Read as many interviews with them. What did they call it in history? Primary sources. Watch the debates, if you can. If you must watch the news, watch Jon Stewart, he makes fun of everyone. Do not trust campaign ads. Do not trust websites that are cropping up everywhere to say, "My guy is the guy." Go to the source. Go to the source. I will say it again, GO TO THE SOURCE. Passionate people that want their candidate to win will stop at nothing. If you've been paying attention, you know what I mean.

Go beyond the "one issue" vote. Please do that for me. I could go on, but for our sake I won't. If that's your thing, you know exactly what I'm talking about.

Look at the whole of the man. Is this a man that I will trust to talk to foreign dignitaries? Growing up in the government, growing up in the Foreign Service, I did actually meet a few presidents, if by meet you mean shake hands. And so I think about the man. Is this a man I would want to shake hands with? Is this a man my father would respect? (I respect my father greatly, readers of this blog will know that, but who knows how you got to this post.) I have been talking to my father almost daily, and we have been forwarding articles back and forth. My father knows a great deal about how politics works and he knows the history behind some of the things that the political ads are blasting, either for the right or the left.

Trust yourself, but talk to everyone you know that will talk to you (as you know, folks shut their mouths about politics REAL quick). Talk to the people you disagree with, if you can. Or at least have conversations with them in your mind. And don't worry about disappointing people. You will be the one responsible for your one vote. Even if you are in a state that's sure to go red or sure to go blue, vote! It's not fun, and you will probably have to wait in line. But it's a duty and a right. Don't let anyone steal that from you.

And if you are a pray-er, pray. Because whoever wins on Nov. 4, there will also be a loser. Pray that our nation will not become divided and bitter. And pray for the safety of everyone. One of the things I love the most about the Catholic and Episcopal church's prayers is that they call our president by his given name, George. As if he were the boy around the corner.

Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is sleep.

(my friend Marlaena)

Very full day, peaks and valleys. Had a wonderful time at small group--we were four, so instead of finishing the book we've been going through, we shared and prayed for each other. It was what we all so needed. My brain would love to do a "this is how today shaped up" and "let's praise God that I got through and not only got through, but lived some of those hours with truth and beauty." But my brain is also exhausted and so I think I'll to bed with my latest favorite book, Eat, Pray, Love. I just got to "Pray," which is exhausting, I may flip back and read more about Italy (Eat).

Wrote this in an email last night about E, P, L: Reading Eat, Pray, Love. No one told me it was about a woman getting over a divorce and that she didn't want to have kids and she has a kick-ass sense of humor. I would have read it sooner.

Night, internets. Oh, and btw, 1/2 price books gave me $25!!!

De-railed...

Ah yes, the cautionary tale returns. I heard this weekend that everything you write online you should preface in your mind with "dear future employer."

Which is why I'm Sarah Louise. (and yes, I just double-googled myself again, no traces, phew!)

Sarah Louise, who was going to go to Half Price Books (Badger's boyfriend) this morning but has run out of time.

There were a lot of things I was going to do this morning. Instead, I talked to my bank about my checks not having arrived yet, I emailed my landlord that I'd send him a money order today, and I learned from my cousin (dear dear Kiki) that online bill pay means that they'll send a check to my landlord! I have got to look into that!!

But in the meantime, I just had a quick chat with NH Sally (not to be confused with Boston Sally, who doesn't live near Boston, actually lives closer to New Hampshire, but I already have ONE NH Sally...) Had a nice long chat with Boston Sally on Saturday--it's amazing to me that we've known each other over half our lives. She just joined Facebook.

Well, I gotta run. Off to a work lunch to see pictures of Italy.

So there's this way you can win a handbag...

Handbag Planet is giving away handbags. They are launching on October 15 and on that day, to celebrate their launch, they are giving away 24 handbags (1 for each hour.) And, you get to pick which purse you want to win.

If you live in the US or Canada, you are eligible!

Plus, if you email friends, Twitter, friend them on Facebook, or write a blog (ding ding ding) post, you get more entries.

As a purse lover, this is a perfect contest for me. Here's a "Show and tell post" about purses, and here's an earlier one.

So go enter! It's fun! It's free! And you could get a free handbag!

5 minutes to write, 5 minutes to proof, and 5 min to walk out the door.

Where's my timer?

So here's the thing. We forget who we are. Daily. And we have to come back, daily. (Or at least once a week.) Otherwise, it's drama, drama, drama.

I've spent a lot of my life going after things I didn't really want. Dated men I didn't really like, applied for jobs I didn't want. Fortunately, I never got married to any of the men or got any of those jobs. But that doesn't mean I'm going to stop looking. And right now, the looking I need to do is inward--why did I date those creeps? And outward--what jobs can get me closer to my sister? Yes, I adore my church. Yes, I have great friends. But at the end of the day, my family are really the only people I want to spend more time with. Well, besides God. And he's everywhere. I don't want to make my friends to be my family. I am a single, thirty six year old woman. I want my family to be my family. I don't want to move back to DC, because it's too humid and I like cold winters. But a job where I have weekends where I can travel? Not every weekend, but every once and a while. And close enough that I don't always have to drive. I can take a train.

And yes, I have a wonderful therapist right now. And great psychiatrists. And we will continue to do great work at getting me figured out. But I'm not going to stop looking. It's not time for that yet. What it is time for is to stop fighting with myself. It is time to start fighting for me.

Nope. I'm not going to settle. And what's more, I'm going to try to stick around the folks that won't let me settle. Yes, I have a job. Yes, it is a hard economy. But I want more than what I have right now, and it has nothing to do with the amount of cash in my checkbook.

Okay, that was 12 minutes, front to back. Shoes on, off to the therapist I go. Ding!

"Miracle of Coffee"

So. The last item I have that I tangibly associate with my grandpa is gone.

His Nescafé cup, which was made of plain glass and had the world and Nescafé etched on. I can still see him sitting there at the breakfast table. We had those bowls that were huge for breakfast and well, I can see it, but the words to describe it aren't coming quick and I don't really have time to write this.

I can tell that I'm past the depression, maybe at a "zero" in the plus five, negative five scale, which means I'm normal, woo hoo! as I didn't cry. I picked up the pieces, put them in an empty Kleenex box, and took the kitchen rug downstairs to beat out the shards that I couldn't see. I thought about taking a picture, but I'm too tired.

I'm still tempted, and I don't know if that's cuz I'm overly sentimental or that it really was the last Grandpa thing I had.

Grandma was the one who wrote cards, typed on greeting cards with her ancient typewriter, so I have stuff from her, and even a card with a magnet on the fridge. And she's only been gone three or four years--I can't remember exactly. Crap. But Grandpa has been gone since my senior year in college. And no one lives in Washington, NJ anymore, my aunt and uncle sold their house even before Grandma died.

So now I'm all awash in family memories and I have no dates to match up anything. My uncle died in 2001, I remember that b/c I was in grad school and it was a few months after 9/11. The last time we saw him alive was the weekend after 9/11. Imagine being in an airport in NY (I think it was JFK, but it could have been LaGuardia) that weekend. Everyone getting used to all the new security...there was an editorial in the NYT that day that I would love to retrieve.

Welll, time to go to work. I'm wearing my "pink is the new black" t-shirt.

People are always on the verge of tears...

(The whole quote: It's much easier to write a solemn book than a funny book. It's harder to make people laugh than it is to make them cry. --from the Lovely Fran Lebowitz)

I cried last night upon reading Marilynne Robinson's book. No spoilers here, no reviews either.

I cried yesterday when I ran out of time in the morning (oh, I wrote about that already.)

I haven't cried yet upon discovering I wasn't even given an interview for the most recent job I didn't get. Talking to Sally wasn't helpful, as I also told her that our library is on a hiring freeze and a nearby library had to fire their Executive and Library directors because they lost money in investments last year. She thought now must be the time for me to be glad I have a job. Which, yes, I am.

It is also time for me to look outside Pittsburgh again.

Ugh. I was planning to do stuff in the apartment today and yet I am in my bathrobe, after watching two episodes of SATC and now I've just turned on Ellen.

I'm afraid I've become one of those cautionary tale bloggers. (You know, thirty-something, depressed...)

Things will turn around soon. I promise. Even if I have to fictionalize my life, I promise better posts coming soon.

This is going to be one of THOSE posts

Which could mean it stays in "draft" for all eternity. We'll see. The problem, as I just tweeted, about being less depressed is that you actually care about things and start doing more and then when your heightened expectations collide with the reality that there is too much to do because you've been doing nothing while you were more depressed and you can't find the ~n on charmap.exe to wish a friend happy birthday in Spanish and and and...sobs ensue. It's not pretty.

I was just asked if I wanted in for "Powerball." I don't do the lottery, sorry.

Apparently, according to my hormone horoscope, I'm at the weepy stage of my cycle too. GREAT.

So I pretty much cried all the way to work. (I cried before work, and screamed expletives when I figured out I didn't have time for a shower because I hadn't put together my pills for the day.)

I'm reminded of an old Family Circle cartoon. Now, hang on, I don't go much for that comic, it's a little too "precious" for me, but this one stayed with me. Little Bill got up really early, thought he had all the time in the world, did all sorts of things, and ended up LATE for the bus.

I've also realized that I am very much affected by the lives around me. For instance, it feels like years since I've talked to my boss in Children's, a woman who is so wonderful and really my mentor in so many ways. And Marian (the Librarian) has been recovering from surgery, so it's been years since we've had lunch.

And as much as I am adoring reading "Home" (Marilynne Robinson's companion to Gilead), it is a melancholy reminder of my own life. Glory is the protagonist here, and boy do I relate to her character. I won't say more, (no spoilers) and besides, I need to write something cheery before we all collapse into a need for a case of pink Kleenex.

So, I don't have pictures. But I'll paint one for you. Months ago, Kiki (my dear cousin, who has a super-fun blog) issued me a challenge. If you wash all your dishes, I'll send you one. Now, this is no ordinary dish. It's made by Kiki, especially for me. It's pinkish with a warm yellowy glow. It is heart shaped, and at the crook of the heart, there is a rose (on I think a handle) (I told you, I don't have pictures yet.) On the bottom, she inscribed lyrics from a famous song, a song more famous than the show it is in, which is my favorite musical, Carnival. No, not Carousel. Carnival is about a naive girl who comes into the circus world, and the song you probably know is "Love makes the world go round." She also inscribed it Kiki, even though IRL that's not my cousin's name. But it adds to the wonderfulness of it.

The dish is microwave, dishwasher, and oven safe, and it comes with a little purple paper that says so. Since my kitchen looks once again like a hurricane (Ike, is that you?) took over, the beautiful dish from Kiki stays in the box for now.

**********

So the latest--have I told yins this yet? Now that I have twitter and Facebook to keep up with AND the blog, I lose where I have told people what. So the latest is that the ear infection isn't an ear infection, it's an inflammation of the jaw bone (the jaw bone is connected to the ear bone the ear bone is connected to...). So I'm to take Tylenol and eat soft foods (read: foods you can gum) for two weeks. A delicious discovery: biscotti, when dipped in coffee, is gummable. We're going to Kelly O's for lunch, as eggs are also gummable. I had yogurt with no granola for breakfast, at red lights along Rte. 8, on the way to work.

With my coffee (decaf) and biscotti, I also have a Hershey's special dark bar, because on a weepy Wednesday, this girl needs CHOCOLATE.

Somehow I thought I had hit publish. So I'll do that now.

I can't find my remote control...

Right now the local news is on. And since we're past yesterday's no electricity news (although some folks are still without last time I checked) it's all "if it bleeds, it leads" and the local crime. Yum.

Right now I'm missing a wedding that's happening at Niagara Falls, oh there we're back. The GMA weather guy, his name is Sam, is standing among the wedding guests and telling us the weather. (Not sure who the guests are since we've been told this couple was eloping.)

I am only yelling at the TV at the commercials today, which is better than yesterday, when I changed channels.

Overnight, the air has gotten allergic and I've taken another Claritin.

Oh, so hey, great news! I got a link on Intrepid Tuesdays, The First Edition!



It's an old old post, one that I wrote on the first year anniversary of my blog. But it's one I'm proud of. It was weird reading it, since it was in the early days, when I really did have a community at the blog and everyone knew your name. Now, some of us have gone our separate ways or ventured into other things and we're not as comfy-cozy. Which happens. I have no idea why it's not all linked up, but I didn't want to change a thing. It stands as it is, a relic to another time.

Daysgoby has her post "Working in the Dungeon," I'm so proud to share space with her!

Another one of my Twitter buddies, Dani, submitted her 9/11 post, "Lucky" which I guarantee will make you shiver. Go! Read!

Oh, and yesterday I saw a Monarch butterfly.

Yes, pictures. They're coming. But not today. I have to download from the camera first. Plus do things like pay bills and go to Women's Bible Study--Beth Moore!!

Some decisions I'm making...

The winders are all open and the air coming through is delicious, like the 60s!!!

Last night, after I got home from church (after I became a charter member* of my church!) I turned on the computer, to Twitter some and catch up. Also the TV, because I am a Pittsburgher, even though I do not understand football (and no, am not interested in learning, thanks!) we were playing our biggest rivals last night, the Cleveland Browns. It was raining in Cleveland, but just winding here in da Burgh. The wind meant that my electricity flickered on and off 5x before I decided to turn off the TV, the computer, and turn off my power strips, and brushed my teeth.

I was spooked enough that I called my mom, though. And while we were talking, it flicked off and on again. She said, I'd wash my face now, if I were you. Yep, did that, plus I have my flashlight right here.

So if you missed me at Twitter last night, that's where I was.

So, decisions.

When I turned on my favorite TV show, the Today show, I thought maybe Channel 11 (the local news) would give me some clue as to what happened last night. Nope, they led with some local crime story and didn't even mention a THING about the weather or what had transpired. I guess they thought the blue box that let me know that all the local suburban schools were on 2 hr delays was enough.

So that was a first reason I wanted something else, news, please!, and found it on the website of Channel 4. And when the women were cat fighting over "can women do it all" (apparently we need to have this conversation ad naseum until we get blue in the face) I flipped the station to find anything, anything. So I settled in on GMA's Whistlestop thing-y. Now, you've got to know, for me to watch anything but PBS, NBC, or FOX, I'm dealing with lines on the TV. It's not the clearest picture, and I've just never really gotten into GMA, because I always thought Today was better. But here's what GMA is doing. They are doing a Whistle Stop tour! 50 states in 5o days! And who did they have on? (Well, Obama, but I was probably either sleeping or watching Today.) James Taylor! I never knew Rockabye Sweet Baby James** was written on the occasion of the birth of his nephew.

So it was refreshing. And they finish at 9, which I never thought was a plus, cuz I don't much care for Regis and Kelly but it is a plus, because look at the time, it's 9:15 and the TV is on mute! The only noise I hear is the click of the keyboard and the fan swishing. (I'd actually turn the fan off, but I don't think it takes a lot of juice and it is a pain to turn it back on b/c it gets stuck.) Yes, it will take like 5 minutes and I'll have to wiggle with it. Anyways. Blog-writing. You wouldn't be getting this little fan story if I was writing for Vanity Fair. I would have edited it out even before someone else looked at it. But I know as much as you do that the reason we read each other's blogs is that we want the personal touch.

Yes, Regis and Kelly are talking about something. So nice to just look at them but hear nothing.

Well, gotta go. Time to get ready to see the ENT.

*Charter member, from Wikipedia: A charter member of an organization is an original member; that is, one who became a member when the organization received its charter.
**Just learned why this is funny this weekend. I'm a little slow on the uptake.

"I'm still learning."

When your page of Tweets is all you, just you, tweeting, it's time to stop. And maybe blog.

The Britta filter needs to soak for 15 min. Also, the first two pitchers are for watering plants (um, if I had any.)

So here it is: I need to save $. I need to pay down debt. Please send your money saving tips and recipes (preferably recipes that serve 1-2 people and/or make good leftovers.)

How is it that I got here and now I feel like I have nothing more to say?

I'm tired of reporting on my health: the depression is waning :) but the ear infection is yuk.

After de-cluttering almost every Sunday morning this summer, I still have so much crap in this apartment. GAH!

So, aren't you glad you stopped by?

Mwah. I promise pictures and better writing soon.

*Leonardo Da Vinci

40 minutes til I get to go to bed!!

Yes, so part of this "nip depression in the bud" is regular scheduling. As in sleep. So even though I could have easily crashed when I got home from work (early, see tweet) I am sticking to a 10 pm bedtime. And yes, today I woke up with an alarm. Well, I snoozed much-o, but at least I had enough time to take a walk and was home by 8:30 a.m.

It was a short walk, a little over a half mile, as it was also RAINING. But I really want to be well, so I determined that I WOULD take a walk even if it was HAILING.

So part of what I'm doing right now, b.s.-ing with you, is an effort to not crawl right over to my bed and climb in. 35 minutes to go...

So, some books I didn't finish: Sandcastles by Luanne Rice. The Courtyard by Marcia Williet. Not books to read when depressed.

25 minutes.

I'm sure you are SO thrilled to be reading this EXTRA THRILLING jam packed blog post so I'll give you a little something: 23 minutes.

KIDDING!

So, let's see, we have started another puzzle at work (in the break room). Um, the last one was fairly straightforward, all the pieces had an identifiable part of something in the picture. This one is a Thomas Kinkade. Think impressionism. (Not like as beautiful, but nuances and brush strokes....) GAH! But I did help put together part of the edge. All in all, I placed three pieces in during the 10 minutes before I got too frustrated.

Oh, and this is big. I sent an email to my landlord and gently suggested that we might talk about carpeting/flooring, since I've been here 12+ years. This is HUGE, as the perfectionist/procrastinator in me would rather find out every option and then talk to my landlord, and since that would take forever, I never move a finger. Can we say STUCK?

Twenty minutes! I think I can now officially change into PJ's and brush teeth.

I'll be back.

Oh, steps for today: 4762. Pitiful, but darn it, I walked 1/2 mile in the rain!

10 minutes!!

Ooooh, 5! I just went and commented on Katrina's first day of school--she's teaching kindergarten!

Okay, the last three minutes are gravy. Thanks for keeping me company. I'll be more interesting later, I promise.

All twittered out

So you may have noticed that I brought my twitter feed back onto the site (that is if you read me at the site, not from a reader...). Blackbird once tweeted to Dani3boyz that twittering is her blog. I'm finding that some days (like today) it is mine.

I'm feeling better. The ick of depression comes and goes. I am eating less, but I am still showing up for work. Yesterday I actually worked longer b/c I had a project I wanted to finish. It gave me a huge sense of satisfaction to have gotten through importing and tweaking 7 records for Star Trek TV episodes.

More later, I promise. And maybe even pictures...you never can tell...

Calling my Sallys...

So this is the status:

1. three days of sleeping past 9 am.
2. (yesterday) it takes me too long to find the word "goose" so K misses the first set that flew over us.
3. I've called almost everyone in my cell phone that might be home and left cheerful messages. (It's "little miss actress"--crying on the machine is a no no.)
   
4. I'm watching women argue about Palin on the View.
   

I NEVER watch The View. Okay, rarely. And now Sally Field is telling me that she can take a pill once a month to prevent bone loss.

August is over--the month of no therapy was NOT a good idea. (She was on vackay, I was on vackay, we didn't schedule a phone session.)

As for the View, I have to say Whoopi Goldberg has it going on. I like her.

Urg. Oh, and my new phone apparently can't call to short numbers so I am missing my Twitter! (I had my old phone set to get five folks that I know, I get their updates only, but I miss that!!) And I miss that I can't send tweets via SMS.

But am I gettting dressed to go to the AT&T store? No. I'm sitting here in my nightgown listening to five women bicker. And right now that is all I can do.

Go take a walk? Nope, I would probably shatter from being alone. Readers, let me tell you, if you have any way around it, don't get depression or bipolar disorder.

The Addam's Family M&M commercial is cute.

Something chipper? Sandcastle yesterday was WUNDERBAR! K and I had such a blast. AND wonder of wonders, we had the political discussion that I was so afraid of (we are voting for opposite men in November) and we emerged as friends. She did her "talkity talk" and then said "But that's my opinion" and poked me playfully.

We did the Blue Tubaluba twice--once in single tubes, and our last ride of the day in a double tube. It was the busiest day we'd seen. (Well, a gorgeous day and the last day of the season, duh!) We each ran into someone we knew. I tried to get my phone (yes, new phone has a camera) to take a picture of us, but apparently, I'm still learning how to use my new phone...

What else? Um, oh, I "led" our Small Group Bible Study last night--which meant, I had the book with the answers. But basically it meant letting everyone talk. It was great.

Oh, and guess what? The New New Kids on the Block are on now. They're cute! AND OLD! (Well, old-er.) And married, with many children.

And their song, "Single" is not exactly what I need right now--"I'll be your boyfriend til the song goes off."

Okay, it's T minus 3/4 hour before I need to leave for work. Maybe I'll leave now and get a fun "pick me up" lunch. Do I have a decent book to read? Um.

And what do I have to wear today...um. Maybe it's time to go look into living my life. Thanks for being one of my Sallys, dear reader. Sometimes a girl just needs to talk.

Oh, the NKOTB are singing again. (I wasn't a fan last time around but there's something about heterosexual men with good dance moves.)

Okay, I better figure out what's what. Urg. Send hugs.

I leave you as Attorney Edgar Snyder warns me against insurance companies.

TA!

A fortnight...

Fourteen things, since I was pretty much gone for a fortnight, not in any particular order:

1. Watched the movie Giant. Didn't fall in love with James Dean.
   
2. Watched the movie The Philadelphia Story. Fell in love with Katherine Hepburn.
3. Caught up on some issues of Vogue, including the ultra-fat September 2007 issue.
   
4. Worked on two puzzles, one we finished, one we packed up in labeled Zip lock bags.
5. Got a lobster burn on my left shoulder, which is pretty much faded and peeled by now.
   
6. Spent the evening (tonight) watching SATC, Season 6, Part 1, whilst doing laundry.
   
7. Co-worker popped her baby boy this morning! Congrats!! (We were daring, we took her out for lunch yesterday, whilst she was having contractions.)
8. I need to do some serious cleaning and de-cluttering in the apartment.
9. Sandcastle on Monday--and the forecast is sunny!
   
10. I now only have one car on my car insurance. His name is Elliot and he is "stealth blue."
    
11. I cried as my dad drove Lucy the Honda away, and promptly backed into the parked car behind me. No harm, but I flagged my dad down and had him make sure. Then *I* drove away (on my way to work.)
12. I heart Twitter.
    
13. I am getting used to my new pink cell phone (it was the two year upgrade time). Must procure a fun ring tone and set my speed dials. Oh, and it has a camera.
    
14. It's time for bed.
    

I promise to write something soon. I thought I was going to tonight, but I got all blocked. But lists are fun too.

Insomnia, thy name is PMS...

Today I gave up my Aunt Margaret's table. I lent it to a new friend who has just started renting a house and needed more furniture to fill it up. It was that or let my landlord use it to stack his golf clubs. (Well, we would have found a family member to house it, but new friend, let's see, we'll call her Margaret, for Margaret's table is now hers.)

My Aunt Margaret got married, eloped, when she was fifty. She married a judge from the office where she was a secretary. Their "meet cute" had something to do with baseball tickets. To the Mets, I thought, but someone said the Mets weren't around then. Aunt Margaret was a career girl in the twenties and thirties. I guess she got married in the late forties, as she was born in 1898. (You do the math, I'm too tired.) It is a family mystery as to why she married him. Maybe he made her laugh, muses my mother. All my mother remembers is that he was old. But he bought Aunt Margaret a pig, (she wanted one) and when she was widowed, Margaret made it possible for my mom to go to camp two weeks in a row one summer. She bought everyone magazine subscriptions, and took us to see "Hello Dolly" one summer, on Broadway. My grandmother, (not Margaret's sister in law, but my dad's mom, who was friends with Margaret through some club, not because my mom married my dad) bought me soundtracks to every play I'd seen. I still have all of them, even though I haven't played vinyl for years.

I love sitting here and discovering what will come out. It's like no other kind of writing. When I journal, it's generally because I have to work something out. When I write a letter, it's to a specific "Dear you." When I write a cover letter (let's not talk about it) I freeze until I get to the second draft that has been doctored by Kiki (dear dear Kiki). But when I come here, and I'm in the right place, the writing just comes.

Of course, as soon as I write a sentence like that, the flow stops. In the background, I'm listening to the commentary with version of the season finale of Season Five. So I stop every now and then to turn back to the TV behind me. What I love about the commentary for this particular episode is that Michael Patrick King doesn't talk over the dialogue, as he often does in other commentary episodes, especially one with Berger in Season Six. (But we won't get into that here.) I had lunch with a dear one this week, Kay. And she and I are the type of friends that will never run out of things to talk about. On Tuesday, at Mad Mex, we could not stop talking about SATC. We know all the episodes by heart and love them all--and agree that a good show is one that can be better by talking about it with friends.

Well, my neck is getting tired enough that maybe my body can be tired enough and I can sleep. Tomorrow--Sandcastle. It is my favorite day of every summer. My friend K. and I have been going for the past three years. I've gone for the past five. But I'm too tired to write more...maybe sleep will come...

changing slowly...

So, um, as you may have noticed, not much has changed 'round here. I'm thinking, but not ready to do the deed.

But in other news, I created 4 bags of recycled paper yesterday (and that's not counting all the paper that is on the way to the shredder.) I'm ready for a break, maybe I'll drive over to the paper recycling boxes at the Union Project, get a cookie or something, and drive over to Goodwill to drop off the four or so bags that are going there.

And pictures. I really owe yins some pictures. Well, I suppose I could give you a few now. (You'd like that, wouldn't you?)



Roses from Sally's back yard.



Tiger Lilies from...somewhere in Pittsburgh. I think the Union Project.



Did I ever do a "Yellowstone Park/Montana" post? I should...These are from Jenny Lake.



These are from Yellowstone Park. Yes, we got a bear shaped soap when we stayed in the Park.



Old Faithful.

More to come, I promise!

More about why I adore Carrie and her friends...

They are very literate. Only today, whilst reading an article in the NYT, I came across the phrase, "Four legs good, two legs bad." Since high school was AGES ago, and I don't really remember reading Animal Farm as much as remembering that I did read it, I didn't realize this was yet another literary allusion. (Carrie says "two legs good, four legs bad" in the episode "Sex and the Country" which also has allusions to Old MacDonald has a farm ("e-i-e-i-o.")

Of course, now that I've started, my brain has stalled.

Oh, right. So in the Season Two finale, when Natasha and Big get engaged, Carrie and friends wax eloquently about the movie "The Way We Were," which I had never seen, but have now. I see now how the episode sort of mirrored the movie, but the episode is better than the movie, although I've been told that I needed to see the movie when I was 25. Which brings up a thought about SATC in general. I have friends in their twenties who don't like the show. And friends in their twenties who adore it. Then I have friends of varying ages who don't care if they ever see the show. Personally, I think you should be at least 32 before you watch it, you need to have a little bitterness that comes with the third decade.

That said, I don't think everyone should watch it, or that everyone will like it. I watch it because the characters are smart, I can relate to being thirtysomething and single, and I like the theme music. (I have it as the ring tone for my phone.) As a woman who made a few or more mistakes in my early years (oh, did I stop?) I commiserate with Carrie & Co. As they say, let she who has no sin throw the first stone.

When I was in my senior year of high school, something changed. All of a sudden, I stopped being Miss Goody Two Shoes. My two best friends had boyfriends and were losing their virginities, and I read books like My Mother/My Self and devoured copies of Cosmopolitan. I worried about how it would be, dating when you had to think about whose place to spend the night. Second semester, I had my first "boyfriend" who was an absolute jerk and in many ways I am still recovering.

Then I went off to college. When I found Jesus (I know that sounds dorky, but maybe a little bit less dorky than "born again") my freshman year, I thought, "phew! I won't have to think about that again" and put sex in a "after I'm married" compartment. And five years later, I started dating men. (I only had unrequited crushes in college.) And Pandora's box opened up and I was making decisions about whose place to spend the night. I'm not proud of those years, and my heart is broken in places that are mending, even now.

But watching SATC helps me to see that there are reasons you break up with a guy besides, "you're not a Christian, so I can't keep dating you." (Yes, I actually said those words, to at least two men.) What I couldn't see was that I was actually breaking up with them because they weren't respecting me, but I didn't have the words to say that. In the two quasi-healthy relationships I had where I did the breaking up, I was able to say, "This isn't working" or "You're drinking again, so I'm out of here." But until I watched SATC, I felt like no one understood my story. I had two kinds of friends: Christians (who had either not had indiscretions or didn't talk about them) and non-Christians who were experimenting like crazy. And I felt caught in the middle--I felt I'd done enough experimenting but I didn't feel like my Christian friends would understand, and I certainly didn't want to encourage my non-Christian friends in their experimentation, but at the same time not judge them (or have them judge me). Talk about being between a rock and a hard place.

I remember, my freshman year of college, walking back to Carlow after Cornerstone (the college Christian fellowship group I attended) with two girls. The guest speakers were a married couple. The guy had "sowed his oats" before getting married and I think maybe the girl had not. We all sang "Summer Nights" from the movie Grease and the couple used the song to show the difference between how men and women look at romance, love, and sex. We'll call the two girls I was walking home with Jill and Jackie.

Jill to Jackie: "I would never want to marry a man that wasn't a virgin when we got married." Jackie to Jill: "Yeah."

And there it was. Two more people I couldn't talk to about sex.

********

My brain is so tangled and mangled -- this is the last day of Summer Reading, we have a Storytelling Festival going on too, and so I'm sticking out my tongue at my inner English teacher and ending here, with no real conclusion. I'm too busy these days to come back and work on this more.

xo,

SL

testing

It's Friday!!

Let the circus begin. Along with cooking internet casseroles (realized my way of consoling friends is to comment on every picture in their Facebook profiles), and updating last night's post, (thank you Cuileanne!) today is the day of the famed Stuffed Aminal Sleepover. (YES, deliberate misspelling, dear English teacher.)

If I wrote about everything, I'd be sitting here till noon. (You know, instead of LIVING my life.)

Oh, but hey, Loretta has reinstated List Friday. Go read. It's all about summer food in your childhood. (Or summer pictures. I'm mixed up.)

Oh, and last night I tweeted this. Because life is good. I need to get the twitter thing back on the blog. But not this weekend. I will be that blur you don't see.

Mwah!

xo,

SL