Things I'm not writing about...

In high school, a rival school had a literary magazine called Erehwon. (Nowhere spelled backwards, which is a fancy pants reference to something.) Our literary magazine was called Silver Quill, to match the newspaper, which was Silver Chips, and the yearbook which was Silverlogue. (I had to reach under a pile of books by my bed to get the name of the yearbook.) The one I uncovered is 1987, the year after I joined the literary magazine.

In this magazine, the one from the rival school, I remember making a copy of a poem a girl had written. It went something like this. "I'm sorry that I haven't written any poetry. I've been busy doing homework." It went on, but this is going on twenty years, this memory. And the last line was something like, "I'm sorry that I've been too busy not living."

The gist, of course, being, that for some of us, living = writing.

Well, I've been too busy to write.

Too busy working, and watching Mary Tyler Moore (I'm on season six right now.)

Too busy to write about the fact that almost overnight I became a co-manager of Technical Services with my friend Jane, as our boss Eva left to join her husband in New Jersey, after the sale of their house. I have no more hours in the day, and my pay has stayed static except for the 2% at the beginning of the year which doesn't even cover the fact that our health insurance costs doubled or tripled. (Doctor visits doubled, prescriptions tripled.) And I do still work in the Children's department, which has actually been a saving grace, because when I need some air, I can say, I'm going over to Children's, and oftentimes, Maya, my excellent manager, will be in her office and I can sit and talk to her as I calm down.

Too busy to write about Charlotte Zolotow, an important editor and children's writer, a rewrite of a Master's program paper that I need to get published in a peer reviewed journal so I can impress upon the folks at PhD programs that I'm serious, and they want ME.

Too busy to write about the fact that I'm not studying for the GRE, because of course the year I need to take it, it has changed, AGAIN, and this time, big time. It's an hour longer, and they've taken away analogies, antonyms, and sentence completions. Which just means that the stuff they've kept will be more complex, because why else would they have added an hour AND given you an online calculator? (Yes, it's a computer test now. If you get easy questions right, they give you harder ones in that subject, upping your score. But if you get the easy questions wrong, you'll keep getting easy questions, which will sink your score, and possibly your boat.) The GRE is not as important for my program, the letters I write and the letters my recommenders write is what will get me in, but a good GRE score can be a tool for getting more scholarship money in some cases. And I know, if I went to college, I can pass the GRE, but I do need to prepare, and I do need to go over the math that I haven't done for at least fifteen years.

Too busy to write that all of my friendships are changing, again. It's the changing of the guards...Anna is in Russia now, so if I call her, I have to call her when it's a normal hour there (our time +8 hours) and know that she will keep me on the phone for a while, because, well, not many people call her. She loves it there, though. Sally in Michigan is acclimating to Michigan, so she's home less, she has folks over...so we have missed each other coming and going. But all of a sudden, Sally East End has a project involving taking books to Haiti, so she enlisted me to help her find appropriate kids books, so we're talking more. But I'm so tired these days that I don't want to work on relationships that aren't at least eight years old because I don't want to have to explain how I feel about things. Which means that I pretty much go to work and come home and read or watch Mary Tyler Moore. (Plus the fact that my schedule has always been best suited for friendships with stay at home moms, since I am home during the day a lot, and not available most evenings.)

Too busy to write that my sister is getting married!! Yes, my dear Bird has gotten herself an engagement ring and a mighty fine boy. The wedding is in August. (Yes, 2011.) I'm the maid of honor, so that has added to the stress too, as we try to figure out dresses and things. My sister is not one for chatting, and my mother has had other things on her mind, so I knew WHERE the wedding was five days before I knew WHEN it was. It's a Friday wedding, so I assume in the evening, but I don't actually have that information either. I had to ask my dad. Mom and Dad are in California right now. They spent a week traveling around, spending time with friends (had lunch with their future in-laws) and today they'll meet up with "the butterfly folks." My mother is big into Monarch butterfly conservation, and so after she went to a few workshops, they asked her if she'd help...and so she travels all over the country doing exactly that. Usually in February there is a trip to Mexico, but, well, things are a little dicey in that particular Central American nation, so they're visiting the Muir forests (of the huge redwoods) as that is where some butterflies spend the winter, the ones that don't go to Mexico.

As I go over this post, I realize I've just written the opposite of those Christmas cards that glow: "Our daughter just gave us TWINS! We love being grandparents!! Our son got married in Alaska, it was a beautiful ceremony at sunset, the seals were on the beach. Manny got a promotion this year, so we're moving to Hawaii. We'll miss all our friends in Manhattan, but it's an excellent opportunity for our youngest, who we've decided to home school. Did we mention that our son married a doctor? So while he builds his law firm, she'll be building her private practice..."

And all of a sudden it's quarter to eight and I need to get in the shower so I can get to work before nine. Say hello in the comments, I've missed you!!

Some things bear repeating.

So this is just a reprise. I hate it when folks post a link with no context, so here's yours. I am in the throes of week 3 (the week before PMS, where your body starts to slow down and life is listless...)

And I get an email from this site, that a dentist from Allentown has spam commented on one of my posts. So I go and read the post, which linked to a previous post. (Yes, it's all about going back.)

And I found this gem, from October, 2006. I don't write like this anymore, I don't allow myself to be this vulnerable, or maybe, I'm just in a hard place where I am slogging through, step, next step, third step.

So I'll let my younger self teach me.

Like the Roach Motel...

...stink bugs check in, but they never check out. Sans six dead stink bugs that just went into the trash.

A new year's resolution? Walk more, write more.

Yes, I see how you might think that those are two separate resolutions but they are not. They are my morning ritual, and I miss them dearly.

Via twitter today, found this post about journaling, which breaks the process into levels, such that if you are timid, you can start with Level 1 first and then expand.

Happy Christmas!

My mother and I spent the day together driving. She drove most of the way, I drove us from Waterworks (where we saw the Voyage of the Dawn Treader) to Trader Joe's. She spent the night, which meant a morning of cleaning and clearing. When she left, I gathered up the magazines I'd gotten out of the library for an article I had to write, and arranged this lovely birthday gift from Lilly.

Also, I learned today that a bloggy friend had a baby ten days ago!! We share a middle name (Louise) but it's because her mother's name is Sarah Louise as well.

Hurry Christmas, Hurry fast...

(this is the advent devotional I wrote for our church's advent booklet.)

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned. (Read Isaiah 9:2-7)

Every year while on summer vacation, my night owl sister and I share a room. Inevitably I wake up before she wants to even think about morning, and I need to turn on the light to get dressed. So we share my sleep mask. I wear it at night, so my sister can read with a light on late into the night, and in the morning when I want to turn on the light, or open the drapes, I hand the sleep mask over to a groggy form that groans a thanks.

The darkness that Isaiah describes here is not a literal darkness. Sleepy Israelites aren’t waking up to a literal dawn, handing over sleep masks to those too tired to greet the sun. Instead, Isaiah describes people who have been living in the land of the shadow of death. As we read the verses that follow, we see that light is the first of many improvements. Not only can they see, but the light that dawned on their darkness has opened their lives. Each verse describes something better than the next. And in verse 6, a child is born. The poet Carl Sandburg said “a baby is the God’s opinion that the world should go on.” This child is not just ANY child, this is the Messiah, who carries special names: Wonderful Counselor, Prince of Peace. But none of these improvements could have happened in the dark. The light, first, was the catalyst for changes, after.

God of Light, show us the beginning of your wonderful plan, the plan that started with a baby, your son Jesus.

***

As far as Christmas preps go, I am SOOOO grateful there is a hockey game on tonight. First intermission: first load of laundry, drop something at Sally's parents' house. 2nd intermission, check on laundry. All the while, I will be listening to Mike Lange and packing for my mini mini vacation down to Virginia. I still have one person to shop for.

To bare or not to bare, that is the question

This blog has always had a transparency, because I have a transparency.

Which might be part of why I haven't been writing as much, because I don't want to be that transparent.

I just sat and wrote about some things that happened a long time ago at Christmas. And I think I'll hold them in and ponder them in my heart some more.

But on this cold cold December day, know that I'm writing, and writing, and writing, and thinking of you as I write, as I spin my tales.

Stay warm, and stay in touch. And for heaven's sake, have a cupcake.

Advent(ures)

Helen just stopped by to say "hello, long time no see." Well, I'll say hello...

Hi! We'll do bullets, b/c life has been CRA-ZEE ovah heah.

• I'm writing an article for an academic journal. GAH. It's due Wednesday. I've been spending most spare moments researching/piecing bits of writing
• Thanksgiving/Birthday (Forty minus one) was wonderful, the fam plus D, my sister's beau, came to visit me in da Burgh. We had turkey on the Gateway Clipper, which is a boat that takes you on all three Pittsburgh rivers. When dinner was over, there was dancing, I did the Electric Slide. My sister got a picture of my parents dancing to "Unforgettable." (Did I mention that this summer they celebrated 41 years of marriage?) I got pictures which maybe I'll post...
  
• My sister gave me a "grown-up" watch for my birthday. By that I mean, it has the 12 at the top and dots where the rest of the numbers would be. My parents got me a Penguins Jersey (or the financing for one) which I have to pick out. More details forthcoming.
  
• Today was the Children's Department Holiday potluck. There is beautiful snow on the ground everywhere and the way the hostess directed me was just breathtaking, through forests of bare trees with snow, like a picture book.
• For the potluck, I made quiche. Yes, I'm cooking and baking again. And washing dishes...I've become kind of domestic again, after a 13 year hiatus!! And I'm losing inches ever so slowly. I haven't weighed myself because I don't want to see that I weigh the same. (I gained 30 pounds last year due to stress, not eating well, and not exercising, due to the departure of North Hills Sally who is now Michigan Sally)
  
• It is winter here, my favorite season of the year.
  
• I LOVE my new church. This past Sunday, we had a U2charist, which is a service that has Eucharist and all the songs are U2 songs. It's our second annual. Here's an article about my church!!
• For my birthday, my brother got me Season 1 of Boy Meets World. I LOVE IT!! I watched that show on ABC's Friday night line up "TGIF" for just about the entire 7 year run.

This is the busiest weekend of the year, I think: I skipped Bible Study this morning to work on the article (although I have been back since I last wrote), I made quiche this morning for the potluck this afternoon, tomorrow is a neighborhood party (where you walk from house to house for Christmas food goodies), and Saturday after work, Lilly and I are going to the movies. Sunday it might REALLY snow, and if it does, I'll write at home, and if it doesn't I may spend some time at the graduate school looking at articles. I haven't been to a movie since Thanksgiving. I know! And today was the first day in eons that I watched breakfast television...which included old episodes of the Pink Panther...um, I had no idea it was a cartoon first. (But so very awesome!!)

Hopefully soon I'll have brain cells enough to write something that has wit, but this will get you updated for now.

My car passed inspection and other miracles

Yes, it's true. For what is possibly the first time in my car-owning life, about sixteen years, my car didn't need ANY work whatsoever for the yearly inspection that PA requires. Woohoo! (I realize woot is cooler, more hip, but woohoo has more of a party in the pronunciation.)

This vile month is almost over, just FOUR MORE DAYS til my cousin's birthday (on November 1.) Her birthday starts the birthday season as far as I'm concerned. I have friends with birthdays in early November, and then mine is at the end of the month. (Thanksgiving Sunday.) Then my brother's, 5 days before Christmas, then my sister's, 2 days after New Years. And then of course, Christmas. I love the holidays. Not something you'd think you'd hear from a gal who worked Fox Books for 7 retail seasons, but I do. Halloween does NOTHING for me. Case in point: our staff Halloween party was Monday. I was baffled as to why the decorations were still up until I realized that Halloween the holiday is still a few days away. Haven't decided what I'm doing yet...I generally do not stay at home because, well, third floor walk-up?

The U2 tickets arrived the other day. I have put them in a "safe place." HaHaHaHa. I should probably put them in my underwear drawer, that's where I keep things like my passport. The concert isn't until JULY.

Lilly and I are going resale shopping on Sunday--half price at the Designer Days, which is run by the National Jewish Women Organization, or some such. They had a thrift shop in Oakland when I was in college, so I got a lot of my early college clothes there. Later, their thrift shop moved Dahntahn, and I got an elegant tea pot for East End Sally's wedding gift. (We used to drink tea all the time, so for a while, I only got her tea related gifts.) Now their thrift shop is in Swissvale and I've never been. But their resale shop is in Shadyside, and I've many a nice piece from there.

(See? Sunday isn't Halloween, it's the day Lilly and I are going shopping.)

Already I can feel the gloom of October unpeeling its wretched fingers from my life. Soon, my dearies, soon.

Today I wrote cards: one for Marian, a hi, I miss you, and one for Michigan Sally's birthday, which was a few weeks ago. (I talked to her on her birthday.)

Lunch was with the ladies that lunch, to celebrate two birthdays in our department. I had lasagna, yum.

Well, off I go...I'm going to a Grease sing-a-long. It's been ages since I've gone out in the evening, and it sounds super-fun. Laundry can wait till tomorrow morning, which probably means I'll skip Bible Study again. We'll get there.

these posts don't write themselves...

so I have at least 3 posts in "draft." A lot is going on these days. Right now, it's moist outside and sometimes a quick downpour (which I thankfully escaped, by mere moments).

I'm here, I've increased the Zoloft, and I'm spending WAYYYYYYYYYYYYY too much time watching TV, DVDs (SATC, season 4, "My one and only," and bits of CBS last night, even the end of Hawaii 5-0.)

My car is being poked and prodded. Hopefully it passes inspection without any extra work. (Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease).

Update: Anna moves to Moscow tomorrow. (Well, she'll be on a plane for most of tomorrow, with her two children, husband, and cats.) I broke up with Xander via email (yes, I know, despicable, but apparently I cleaned out my colon every time I had a date with this guy.) (Sorry for the TMI.) Talk about bad chemistry.

I will get through this, I ALWAYS ALWAYS do. But if you have any corny jokes or cupcakes, leave them in the comment box.

kisses, SL

How to write a political ad in Pittsburgh

Note: I am not endorsing or maligning any opponent, but merely pointing out how ads are written here in SW PA.

If your opponent is rich, point that out. If he's a millionaire, even better.

If your opponent has been in Washington, and you haven't, point out how corrupt Washington is, and how we don't want to send your opponent back. Mention Washington and corrupt as many times as possible.

Talk about privatizing social security. Talk about Medicare, grandchildren, taxes, and health care.

Highlight a particular failure that your opponent has made. Get negative quotes from newspapers, government officials, especially if that official is in your opponent's party, and if the failure has cost money, compare it to the cost of "BOTH stadiums" (Mentioning sports always helps anything in Pittsburgh.) (When will library fundraisers learn this??)

Use the phrase "back room deals."

If your opponent says something bad in a clip, play the clip twice.

Get the "average voter" to say, "I usually vote for [insert your opponent's here] party, but this year, I'm voting for [insert your name here], because [insert your opponent's name here] just doesn't get it."

Use the phrase "[insert your opponent's name here] just doesn't get it" as much as possible.

Mention Paris Hilton. Mention China. Mention China again. Mention illegal immigrants.

Point out the unemployment numbers that have gotten worse since we sent so and so to Washington. Use pictures of empty streets.

Make sure you vote on Tuesday, November 2. Start now researching who you can vote for. Talk to people you trust. Don't wait until November 1. Plan when you will hit the polls. Before work? After work? On your lunch break? Even if there is no one you want to vote for, show up. Represent. Write in someone that you think could do the job better.

And above all, remember that the more local the vote, the more that person may have an effect on your daily life. So don't forget city council, school board, and other local officials.

it's like the feet are little psychiatrists...

(Terri Guillemets)

After a decadent lunch at at the Frick Cafe, Lilly and I walked for almost 3 hours through Frick Park. (We stopped twice to sit.) It was nice to just walk and talk. We solved all the world's problems. (I wish.) But as soon as I dropped Lilly off at her apartment, I panicked. Should I go grocery shopping? Should I go home? Should I take a nap?

Tomorrow I have lunch with Anna, who is leaving for Russia in two weeks. And Friday was Sally's (formerly of the North Hills) birthday. I have been crying. For the loss of my friend to Michigan, where she is thriving. For the loss of my friend to half-way around the world and more than six time zones. She'll be on her own adventure and I'll still be here, with the same old me, in the same old apartment, with the same old job. I'm working on thriving, I can see it ahead of me, but I'm not there yet. I called Sally Friday morning to wish her happy birthday and she was chirping like a happy (thriving) bird.

With Marian still not back at work (although two of us at work had dreams that she had returned) and Pat eating in the kitchen with all the brown-baggers, (not out, like she used to always do), I went out alone to lunch on Friday. I have been doing that, for the past month or so, taking a book. Sitting there, in Sally's favorite Chinese restaurant, I felt more alone than I had in a very long time.

I don't know if I'll see Anna again after tomorrow--she's so busy finishing up getting ready for their move. And I will really miss her.

So I think the panic that I felt after dropping Lilly off was that for a few hours I had had a reprieve. Someone to shorten my journey with a story. I wasn't alone. A day where I wasn't thinking about Anna leaving and although we did talk a little bit about Sally in Michigan, Lilly and I talked about other things. We solved other problems.

I'm working through some BIG things right now: being healthy about my eating, being healthy about my money, being healthy about relationships (men and women), still working through energy issues with the subsiding Shingles. (I'm so sick of going to bed early and STILL sleeping until at least 8 almost every morning.) Getting acclimated to a new church. Figuring out my question for my PhD. (So much closer now.)

And guess what? Even though you might think I shouldn't be, I'm hard on myself. I expect nothing less than perfection. And when I fail at that, I coddle myself with TV, or DVDs, or computer time. And all that coddling means that I don't have time to do simple things around the house like dishes, bills, and laundry. It's a vicious, vicious cycle, one that brings on endless shame. (I have kept three geraniums alive since early summer.)

My therapist can't see me tomorrow (she's taking an all day class), and disc 3 of season 6 of SATC is unbalanced, causing whirring noises and sometimes stoppage of play. It's funny what can derail an otherwise wonderful day. Oh, and Catherine is sick, so I haven't stopped by to see her and the twins all week. Writing it down does help to see where I've been unbalanced.

This too shall pass. This too shall pass. This too shall pass. And inside my head, a voice screams, "But WHEN?"

And then I feel ashamed, because I had a really nice day. And the cycle repeats until I'm tired enough to go to bed.

Well, I think I've done enough work here, probably more than I would have in tomorrow's therapy session. Lilly has recommended G. Roth's book, Appetites, and I think I'll get my hands on a copy tomorrow if I can.

mtc.

A counter community...

It's one of those days where I have many thoughts swirling, and seeing as this is the place I am right now, I'm going to share the swirl with you.

The title comes from a quote from Inward/outward, which so many of my friends have followed for years and I only recently hooked into. It's a cool quote/passage every day, run by a church in DC.

But they were talking about counter as in opposite, and because words are fun and can be used to mean many things (don't you love that?) I read it differently, because I know of a counter community. A real one.

The place where Marian and I eat lunch (and where I eat often in her absence, which has added up to months now) is a counter community. It is a lunch counter, in the shape of a U, sort of, and we all are aware of each other. It's pretty much the same crowd every day, although, come to think of it, John hasn't been there the past couple of times I've been there, and the other John didn't go for lunch yesterday, just to pick up a newspaper. The cashier saved one for him, she often does that when that day's paper is selling quickly--it was a big day in da Burgh yesterday, 50 years since Maz hit one out of the ballpark. (The Pirates won the pennant in 1960, and people show up every year at the place where there is a tiny piece of the former wall of the former ball field, because it's a very Pittsburgh thing to do.)

Anyways, sometimes the guy who is sometimes my mechanic is there, and sometimes this guy who is the spitting image of John McCain, and there's a loud guy named John, and while Marian knows all of the waitresses names, I know Andrea. And sometimes Doc realizes that there are "library girls" eating, and he gets Andrea to take our bills, so we leave tips for our waitresses but get a free lunch. There are varying degrees of "how we feel about that" from "that's Doc" to "free lunch!" to "how embarrassing." But all this to say, we are a community. A loose one, but a community nonetheless.

**********

The thought I had as I went from my kitchen sink with my breakfast to my bed which is also my couch, my dining area, my computer "table," my TV chair...I know, I need to diversify my life, my furniture, but right now I'm just in "get by until things improve" mode. Anyways, I was thinking about the councilman in Texas who did a "it gets better" speech. (It gets better is now code for if you are a gay teen, don't kill yourself, there's so much life ahead of you.) And I watched it, and cried. And the thing of it is this: I'm not a gay teen, but there was so much that spoke to me. About how we are each different somehow and often teased or feel alone for that different piece and sometimes it feels like an insurmountable mountain, to get past whatever it is. But what this guy was saying was, LIFE is worth it. And I think that's something that everyone can hold onto.

It's been a pretty dark week in Sarah Louise Land. One of my friends has been unreachable for months, one of my friends is moving to Moscow (yes back in the former USSR), and Sally is still in Michigan. Xander is either really clueless or doesn't like me and doesn't know how to tell me, and I haven't seen Lilly in weeks (save for a hi/bye at a conference we both attended last Friday.) I did dream last night that Marian was back at work. She was wearing a zippered hoodie, blue, and there she was, back at work. Almost as if she'd never gone, but the truth is, she's been gone for months. She doesn't even know about Xander! (Who, the next time he contacts me, I'm either sending him a "dear John" email or telling him in person the next time I see him.) I still like him, but I can't be with someone who has no mechanism for telling me he likes me. So, one of two things could happen: he'll back off and that will be the end, or he'll scratch his head and say, oh, that's not what I meant to convey. Then there's always that third option, option x. But if I've learned ANYTHING from SATC, it's that people are so often in different quadrants and then they aren't. And some people move on and some people keep coming back.

I'm just meandering through this...and also playing hooky to Bible Study this morning. I need some hooky time. I work from 1-9, and I need to get some ducks in a row. Instead of laundry last night, I finished the book about Mark Zuckerberg and the creation of Facebook. Instead of doing my pills, I watched the shows I normally watch, Modern Family and Cougar Town. Cougar Town surprised me...I thought it was going to be this dumb show where formerly Monica from Friends sleeps around after her divorce. Which I think it might have been. But by the time I started watching it, middle of last season, it was much more. There's some real depth there. If I try to explain it, it will sound frivolous, but it isn't. So there. This is my blog...and I'll write what I want to.

And when I called my momma this morning, she talked. Which is rare, my mother doesn't just go on and on and tell me about her life. I wanted to tell her about my life, but that's okay, I was glad to listen. Have I mentioned lately how much I love my momma? She's the best. She really really is.

Well, in a minute, the clock will strike ten (literally--the seminary down the street has one of those clocks that rings on the hour) and I need to get some laundry in and find some prescriptions and take them to the drug store. There's the bell now.

mtc, SL

oh, and I didn't even mention the miners. What joy there was watching 20/20 last night, the coverage of the miners being released from the earth.

Judgy-wudgy wuzz a bear...

(Stanford to Carrie, SATC Season #5)

This is the post I wrote in my morning shower...and forgot by the time I got to the laptop.

In my early 20s, I made bad choices. I also had bad boundaries, and this led to friendships where people judged me. So now that I am in my late 30s, making better choices, I am afraid that I'm still going to get judged. And all of a sudden, I have people who are saying, "I see what you're saying and I feel the same way," or, "why don't you look at it this way?" NOT "You are making a huge mistake."

But it takes a long time for that voice, that "You are making a HUGE mistake," to go away. Before I open certain emails, I take a deep breath. I have a guy friend who is good at giving advice. He says it's in his Y chromosome. And because I have chosen well, my friends and my boundaries, the advice he's giving me is the same advice I'm giving myself. (But isn't it nice to have someone else tell you that you're on the right road?) Years ago, my mother said to me, "you are making good decisions." I wrote it down and put it up on my fridge. Maybe I need to find that paper or write up a new one.

Had coffee with Xander. I think we were having an off day. I didn't like him that much. And there was a lot of us not talking. But he is a great listener, and he knows his books and his hockey. And I may have stepped on his toes. Because he may have stepped on mine. But I still think he's cute. When I got to Borders, he was sitting there, reading, wearing a Sidney Crosby #87 t-shirt. I walked up to him and said, "Hey, Crosby."

And the beat goes on.

ten ten ten OR diez diez diez OR zehn zehn zehn

I'm feeling playful this morning. Is it because I woke up and the clock that at first look read 10 a.m. actually read 7:57? (How I adore my old fashioned analog clocks.)

Is it because I showered before I watched CBS Sunday morning? (Which means I have a chance to be on time to church)

Is it because the Chilean miners are almost free? Maybe Wednesday!!

Is it because last night I had the chance to see a movie in a dark room, the chance to laugh and cry with strangers? (Life as we know it, the movie, not the TV show.)

Is it because after the movie, I talked to my mom in the car in the dark parking lot? Like a lot of mother daughter conversations, this one had to do with food and poop.

And after all this, I went to the grocery store, bought myself some flowers from Ecuador, raced to the other grocery store to buy almond milk (which by the way, yuk) and got home in time to putz around online until the first skit for SNL.

Yesterday was one of those days...a morning of too many pink Kleenexes being thrown off the cliff called my bed. Coffee and peppermint patties. A morning of self-medicating with Google searches. In the afternoon, I buckled down and worked on catalog errors. (This is even less and more fun than it sounds, believe me. And requires a lot of gray matter.) And by 4:30, I realized that if I didn't have a movie to go see, bad things might happen. And having spent the morning with too many pink Kleenexes and Google, I decided to search Yahoo movies.

I am grateful, that on the brink of my 39th birthday (a month and a half away) I am remembering what I can do to make me happy. Which includes CBS Sunday morning, chick flicks, feeding myself real food, talking to my mom, and blogging. I get to see Xander at 3 this afternoon. Still working out if we are friends or something more...but he's a great guy and I want to take the time to figure it out.

So...if I want to be on time to church, I better figure out what I'm wearing. Tootles. Enjoy this day, it won't come around for another 100 years. And it won't be on a Sunday for even longer than that.

"guest starring Chris Noth"

--my favorite opening credit for either SATC or The Good Wife.

Seeing as SATC is my comfort candy TV, I often crave a particular episode. One time, I needed to cry and so I watched the episode where Miranda's mom dies and Samantha can't cry.

Today I craved the one where Carrie meets Big at the restaurant by the lake and he tries to kiss her and she steps away and they both fall in the lake instead.

For future reference, it's the one called "Cock a doodle do!" where Carrie has "roof chickens," aka roosters.

*****

I was away for the weekend. Somehow the topic of immigrants came up, and my brother said that in a paper he was reading about Honduras, immigrants don't want to let on that they aren't doing so great in the U.S. So they lie. Which perpetuates the myth that everything is great here, and so people emigrate with misconceptions.

Are you away if you go home? And where is home? I leave Pittsburgh to go to Northern Virginia where my parents and siblings live. So I often say I'm going home (to Northern Virginia) and then I'm going home, to Pittsburgh.) I have a fortune from a fortune cookie that says "Home is where the heart is." So, I have two homes; my home with all my stuff, near my job and my friends, my church, and my home where my parents live and I get to see my siblings and attend my parent's church.

I had dinner with Kristina, a woman I knew 28 years ago, when we were girls in Honduras. Her dad was with the Justice Dept, mine was with State. It was not a time when the U.S. was well liked, and we reminisced about things like, remember when terrorists bombed the power plant on July 4th? It's a part of my life that I never really talk about, because there's no one my age to talk to about it. But all of a sudden, I was sitting across from someone who knew who I meant when I said, "I had such a crush on . . ." And I could say things like, "they lived on the street the school was on, do you remember them?"

I spent today mostly sleeping. I have been trying to keep food in...the spicy Thai food I had Saturday night didn't mix well with the minor dehydration I got from being in 95 degree weather on Saturday at the book festival (at least that's my theory.) Then I tried to have raspberry (with seeds) jam on my toast today and I think that was the kicker. I've been eating toast and rice cereal (lunch and dinner).

Oh, look at the time...well anyways, it's been nice chatting with you.

I turn on my computer. I wait patiently as it connects. I go online. My breath catches in my chest until I hear 3 little words, "You've got mail."

(Meg Ryan in the 1998 film, You've Got Mail.)

I've been involved in an email relationship since the early part of August. It's not quite like the movie You've Got Mail, because I know the guy's name, what he looks like (cute) and I've actually been out in fresh air with him twice. (Also, we do not work in sparring bookstores.) But most of our interaction is via email.

How did I meet this guy, you ask? Through an online dating service. Yes, I went on a second date with a guy with whom I had zero chemistry and thought, well, maybe he's a "nice guy," I hear that happens sometimes. (I know of at least two women who slogged through at least 3 bad dates with the men they ended up marrying.) So I Googled "dating a nice guy" and a quiz came up, "Could you date a nice guy?" Well, yes, it turned out that I could, but in order to find that out, I had to join the dating service that sponsored the quiz. I created a user name and a password and I got my results. I was a "sweetheart" and compatible with "nice guys."

And a few days later, I got an automated email from one of the founders saying you should add a picture, answer some questions. It was a boring Sunday afternoon, so I uploaded the picture of me next to the Stanley Cup and answered some questions. I even looked at the profiles of some guys that the site thought I might match up with.

And a few days after that, I got matched with Xander (not his real name.) We emailed for about a week and then he asked me out for coffee. We share an interest in the author Malcolm Gladwell, the Harry Potter books, and movies. Finally, I have found someone who watches the movie before reading the book.

It's kind of fun and kind of scary. I do not have a lot of great dating experience under my belt, so my neurotic side comes out to taunt me a lot. Fortunately, I have amazing friends who remind me that I'm not dating those men right now, I'm dating THIS one. Who seems incredibly laid back, nice, respectful.

(I probably will not be blogging too much about this because of respect, privacy, and boundaries.)

What I'm discovering is that my encyclopedic knowledge of SATC comes in handy. Anything that could ever happen to me has happened either to one of the girls (Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, or Miranda) or one of the writers. I'm not alone, this is not new, this has happened to someone else!!

So that's what's new in the life of Sarah Louise. What's new for you?

Ugly Betty therapy...

So...I'm in the week where I bump into things and I'm grumpy and I'm at work but not necessarily getting a lot done. Yes, it's Week 4. (Gabrielle, I love you!!)

Day 23 to the end of cycle
Today’s hormonescope: Week 1 and Week 2 was full of energy and motivation. This week? Not so much. As estrogen and testosterone plunge, they bring down pep and momentum, making it harder to find the inspiration to work, clean or study. You will, however, be able to shop, eat ice cream and watch TV with the greatest of ease.

Today is Thursday, the day I work from 1-9, so I am allowing myself to watch the last two episodes of Ugly Betty.

I'm crying because it's all dramatic, but it's giving me an outlet, I'm getting some catharsis.

(excuse me, I'm having a moment...)

I have a post brewing, but I wanted to write this short bit. I am proud of all of you, dear readers, and I hope you have a moment to take care of yourself too, because you deserve it.

****
In other news, the house we stayed in on vacation was completely uninspiring, everything was from Ross or TJ Maxx so I hardly have a single photo. (The lake was the same, so even though it was be-gorgeous, I didn't take any new pix.) I'll be relying heavily on FB photos from my dad and siblings.

I have a new phone that I'm going to return. It is too heavy, it doesn't get all my messages, I cannot figure out how to use it, and it's uncomfortable for talking. I have half a mind to return it, get the latest Nokia for show and continue using my pink phone that I adore for the next two years. Yes, texting will still be a bear, but at least I'll have more than 100 characters per message.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have the rest of the last episode of Ugly Betty to watch. Where are my pink Kleenex?

As Kim would say, MTC (more to come)

"Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection..."

Yesterday I went to visit Marian the Librarian. I took her a green pen that I'd purchased at our favorite lunch counter at the local pharmacy. (Yes, just like out of the fifties, we adore it.) This was not just any green pen, it was a green pen with a moppet top and when you jiggled a lever, the moppet top sprung off the end of the pen, tethered by a thin green elastic.

She loved it. As we sat there on her sofa, talking, she played with it, like I knew she would, wondering at the sheer silliness of the mechanics. I love that about Marian, that she has a childlike love for silly things. This is a woman, I recall, who bought clothes for her many WebKinz, back in the day.

I spent almost two hours with her, and she was animated, she talked, I talked, it was like old times. But when I left, I knew it wasn't like old times, she still has far to go, and so do I. She has a lot of crap to work on, and I do too. And she's not coming back to work tomorrow. And Sally isn't moving back from Michigan. I need more people in my life.

Summer is an especially hard time--folks taking vacations, spending time with their families, and oh, yeah, there was that bout of SHINGLES.

This week I peaked on Wednesday. I saw a million Cadillacs everywhere (my secret good luck charm) and I was going out to dinner with the French teacher for the second time, this time to a neighborhood Thai restaurant.

What was it like, Sarah Louise?

It was a bit like having dinner with Larry King on steroids. If I talked about the library, he wanted to know every detail about weeding books. And damaged books. And what? Classics get weeded too? I have no idea if we'll go out again, but I know this: he is a nice guy. And I've never dated one of those. So we're in uncharted territory...

How did I determine he was a nice guy? I used my deductive skills, realized he might be, and then Googled "dating a nice guy." (Ever the librarian.)

This is what I tweeted that night: no clue. not a clue. not a single solitary clue. Well, let's say I've heard stories. #cryptictweet

(The stories are of women who weren't really sure about the guy until at least a month in. One stuck around because the guy had season tickets to the Steelers. Which is not a shallow reason, if you're from Pittsburgh. She's now married and owns a home with said guy.)

And my mother? It took eight years for her to warm up to my dad. Marian said, and you're worrying about two dates?

So who knows? Well, I know one thing. I have laundry that is probably ready to be flipped down in the basement. I need clean clothes BADLY.

Ta!

Tomorrow, I love you tomorrow, you're always a day away....

My heart melted when they showed an archival black and white clip of Paul McCartney singing "Yesterday" a song I knew by heart before I knew what it meant--I was 7.

My therapist has goaded me to get to bed at night, and though I have much to write about and process, I want health more.

So, until the morrow,

Sarah Louise

(who will tell you about this bizarre thing called the non-date with low chemistry.)