Sapphire & Faded Jeans

ALA Midwinter Conference

2012-01-24T20:26:00.000-06:00

I just returned from Dallas where this year's Midwinter conference was held. It's also where my brother lives, near his son and new daughter-in-law.

Memory-bits:

Felt completely out of my depth at at least one point in every session I attended
Also felt completely welcomed at a couple of sessions where I actually was totally out of my depth
Librarians are wacky people, but really easy to identify...at hotels, restaurants, and airports...it was a sort of sport after the first 24 hours
Tex-Mex made by Greek-Americans is pretty good
Steak: also really good, if you're willing to pay for it
If you can, go to Texas de Brasile...unless you happen to be a vegetarian
I made the Dallas paper. This makes me laugh, but at least they didn't ferociously misquote me
I didn't see/meet anyone famous
I did see a ghost, and yes it was spooky as hell!
Got to see Ian Fairclough speak; I think I'm a very weird groupie
I sat by two French guys flying to Dallas and a middle-Eastern (I think, maybe) guy on the way home; I must be the Deals Well With Furr'ners person
Spent a LOT of time in the exhiibits
Picked up about 7 new carrier bags, along with the freebie they dole out at registration to everyone
Filled four (five?) bags full of books and other freebies; Beast is driving them home for me :-)
I got sicker most every day, and bailed on two OCLC breakfasts...
Having no voice makes talking to exhibitors all day difficult
I stayed in three hotels in five days. That was weird, but kind of fun
One of the hotels was quite a ways from the conference site, so Beast drove me back and forth; there was, however, a conference at that hotel, of gift shop owners....
...gift shop owners' conferences seem to be full of snooty 20-somethings, but I snagged an abandoned carrier bag that is absolutely amazing...I will take a picture once Beast gets it home
The convention center...? Not in a great part of town, though they're working on it
Dallas drivers are insane
We landed a full half an hour early today. How often does that happen in January?!

I'm so tired I can't stop yawning. I think I'm going to skip Bible Study in the morning. Good night.

Big D

2012-01-23T20:04:00.000-06:00

Let's see if this works.

2012-01-20T22:52:00.000-06:00

My schedule for the next few days. Precious little sleep on this list. Yes, I know I'm double-, triple- and at one point sextuple-booked. Wish me luck!

FRIDAY, JANUARY 20
9:00am - 12:00pm    2012 ALA Midwinter Unconference Dallas Convention Center D165

10:30am - 12:00pm    OCLC Enhance Sharing Session registered Dallas Convention Center A306

11:00am - 12:00pm    Collection Management in Public Libraries Discussion Group Dallas Convention Center A304
LUNCH
1:30pm - 3:00pm    Bibliographic Control: A Meeting Between Educators and Practitioners Dallas Convention Center C146

2:00pm - 5:00pm    IUG Meeting received invite Omni Dallas Hotel Cedars Room

2:30pm - 4:00pm    Program for Cooperative Cataloging (PCC) Program Training Dallas Convention Center A306

5:30pm - 7:30pm    Exhibits Opening Reception. Exhibit Hall

7:30pm - 9:30pm    Backstage Library Works Reception ([Beast] invited too) Omni Dallas Hotel West End Ballroom (5th floor)

SATURDAY, JANUARY 21
7:00am - 10:00am    OCLC Dewey Update Breakfast and ALCTS Public Libraries Technical Services Interest Group Meeting registered -- received invite to PLTSIG which should start about 8:30 Omni Dallas Hotel Greenville Avenue

8:00am - 10:00am    Copy Cataloging Interest Group Dallas Convention Center D227

10:30am - 12:00pm    Cataloging Norms Interest Group Dallas Convention Center D223

10:30am - 12:00pm    Interlibrary Loan Discussion Group Omni Dallas Hotel Trinity 3

10:30am - 12:00pm    Library of Congress Update Forum Dallas Convention Center D171

10:30am - 12:00pm    Role of the Professional Librarian in Technical Services received invite Dallas Convention Center D174
LUNCH
1:00pm - 1:25pm Midwest Tape Booth #1239 Exhibit Hall

1:30pm - 3:30pm    Catalog Management Interest Group Dallas Convention Center D227

1:30pm - 3:30pm    Collection Development Issues for the Practitioner Interest Group Dallas Convention Center D222

1:30pm - 3:30pm    Hot Topics Discussion Forum (RUSA MARS) Dallas Convention Center D223

3:30pm - 5:30pm    Do I Own these E-books or Not?: The Adventures of Jo Budler, Kansas State Librarian Dallas Convention Center C146

4:00pm - 5:30pm    Catalog Form and Function Interest Group Dallas Convention Center D227

4:00pm - 5:30pm    Faceted Subject Access Interest Group Dallas Convention Center D222

4:00pm - 5:30pm    Hot Topics Discussion Group (RUSA STARS) Omni Dallas Hotel Trinity 3

4:00pm - 5:30pm    Progressive Librarians Guild Meeting received invite Dallas Convention Center D170

4:00pm - 5:30pm    Standards Interest Group Dallas Convention Center D226

4:00pm - 6:00pm    MARC Formats Interest Group Dallas Convention Center C149

5:30pm - 9:00pm    Meetup w [my brother & his family for dinner]

SUNDAY, JANUARY 22
7:00am - 8:00am    OCLC Update Breakfast Roundtable topic: Cataloging & Collection Development Omni Dallas Hotel Dallas EFG

8:00am - 10:00am    Public Libraries Technology Interest Group Dallas Convention Center D222

8:00am - 12:00pm    CONSER / BIBCO / SACO-at-Large Dallas Convention Center C141

10:00am - 11:00am    Auditorium Speaker - John Green Dallas Convention Center Theater

10:30am - 12:00pm    Automated Acquisitions / In Process Control Systems Interest Group Omni Dallas Hotel Cedars Room

10:30am - 12:00pm    Cataloging and Classification Research Interest Group Dallas Convention Center A306

10:30am - 12:00pm    Collection Development Planning & Assessment Committee Meeting (RUSA CODES) Dallas Convention Center A112

10:30am - 12:00pm    National Libraries RDA Forum Dallas Convention Center D227

10:30am - 12:00pm    Technical Services Discussion Group Sheraton Dallas Hotel Trinity 4

12:30pm - 1:00pm    ALA Masters Series: World Book Night Dallas Convention Center A2
LUNCH
1:30pm - 3:30pm    Best Fiction for Young Adults Teen Session (YALSA) Dallas Convention Center C147/154

1:30pm - 3:30pm    RDA Update Forum Dallas Convention Center C146

1:30pm - 5:30pm    Authority Control Interest Group Dallas Convention Center A201/202

4:00pm - 5:30pm    ALCTS Creative Ideas in Technical Services Interest Group received invite Dallas Convention Center D220

4:00pm - 5:30pm    Discussion Forum: Answering the Young Adult Reference Question – Making Connections that Matter (RUSA RSS / YALSA) Dallas Convention Center A304

4:00pm - 5:30pm    PCC Participants' Meeting and Open Program Dallas Convention Center C155

5:00pm - 6:30pm    Midwinter Book and Media Awards Reception Fairmont Dallas Hotel Oak Room

MONDAY, JANUARY 23
7:30am - 9:00am    ALA Youth Media Awards Dallas Convention Center Theater

8:00am - 10:00am    Heads of Cataloging Departments Interest Group Dallas Convention Center D171

8:00am - 10:00am    OCLC Creating Cataloging Efficiencies that Make a Difference received invite Dallas Convention Center D162/164

10:30am - 12:00pm    Forum (ALCTS): Author Steve Berry keynotes Preservation Week 2012 Kick Off Dallas Convention Center A201/202
LUNCH
1:30pm - 3:30pm    Collection Management in Public Libraries Interest Group Dallas Convention Center D172

1:30pm - 3:30pm    Continuing Resources Cataloging Forum Dallas Convention Center D168

2:00pm - 3:00pm    Exhibits Closing & Wrap Up Rev Up Celebration with Lisa Loeb Dallas Convention Center Theater

Offline

2012-01-19T10:30:00.000-06:00

Not that it matters all that much, really, since I don't post here that often, but I'll be Away From the Blog until next Tuesday, Jan. 24. I'll be at the ALA Midwinter conference. Maybe when I get back, I'll have some good stuff to blog.

Or not. ;-)

Time flies

2012-01-18T07:51:00.003-06:00

On the heels of finding out last night that college friends of ours are now grandparents, I am on my way to take Sparky back to college. Trying to get all the crying done now so I don't embarrass him at school.

Yeah. Not likely, eh?

It was a good break, with a few bumps, and he's definitely ready to be back there, but I will miss him, again.

Embedded Comments!!

2012-01-12T08:27:00.001-06:00

O.M.G. It's about time!

Thanks, Shelly, for pointing this out!

Plant life

2012-01-06T11:04:00.000-06:00

Two years ago, I had nothing alive in my house but mammals. I have, spur-of-the-moment, purchased the occasional Sacrificial Aloe Plant over the years, but I haven't really had any plants, long-term since moving into this house over 8 years ago. There have been flowers (vased) and maybe some gifts of plants that didn't last long, but really nothing else.

My mom had a Green Arm. There were plants EVERYfuckinWHERE in our house: living room, dining room, her & dad's bedroom, kitchen.... Huge plants, small ones, baby pots, washtub-sized pots. She repotted and gave away and farmed out and otherwise had a whole greenhouse worth of plants in the world. Meanwhile...I had a cactus garden in my room as a teen. Killed 'em (too much water). I had plants in my dorm room--the ones that were my responsibility died; my roommates' thrived. Beast had a large aloe plant in his lab cube at his first job; it came in handy when burns happened (it was a lab, after all). When he changed jobs and brought home the plant, I killed it.

Anyway, I got tired of killing plants about 10 years ago.

Then, in 2009, Amy gifted me a plant cutting from one of her stock, which I guess I'll call Mit (a variant of what the picture shows). She also gifted me explicit directions on watering Mit. I have repotted it (him?) once, and it continues to grow in spite of a slight change in watering that works better in my head. She recently entrusted me with the offspring of her giant Bob Marley cactus--mine is named Rohan--again with pretty explicit watering directions. So far, it isn't dead, probably because I think I've watered it exactly once in about two months. Two people who came to the library's Christmas party here last month brought poinsettias. The big one is out-of-control happy, though the small one seems a little off. I got the gift of a couple of small plants for helping at church last year sometime and they are also still alive: I water them when I water Mit.

Last week another of my best friends sent me, out of the blue, a gift of 3 bamboo shoots. I had to put them together (this cracked me up--a gift I have to build=total awesome!). Today's the first day to change the water for them

My dining room looks like my mom's house. Maybe that's part of why I have been missing her this past week: all this greenery. So unlike me. So like Mom. I can only hope her spirit is hanging around to remind me to pay attention to all these critters. Because, in spite of receiving my Grandmother's decades-old Christmas cactus (and killing it) 20 years ago, I haven't really been invested in any plants before. The death of these guys has a deeper metaphorical meaning. Maybe that's why Mom was able to keep hers going so long.

We'll see.

Books

2011-12-31T10:46:00.001-06:00

I spent some time updating my reading blog last night...and this morning, because I couldn't remember the names of the not-public-library books I was reading (they're upstairs). Anyway, now that it's totally updated, you can see that I'm totally insane. Here's what I've currently got going:

* Don't Shoot : One Man, a Street Fellowship, and the End of Violence in Inner-City America, by David M. Kennedy
criminology

* From the Kingdom of Memory, by Elie Wiesel
essays/memoir

* Down These Strange Streets (ed. by George R.R. Martin and Gardner Dozois)
short stories/fantasy

* An Echo in the Bone, by Diana Gabaldon (on CD)
historical fiction

* The Secret Life of Cowboys, by Tom Groneberg
memoir

* The Evolution of Faith : How God is Creating a Better Christianity, by Philip Gulley
theology

* Amos Walker : The Complete Story Collection, by Loren Estleman (on Nook)
short stories/mystery

Could I possibly be more spread out on the map of potential reading options? I guess I could throw some science or poetry in there...but then again, I do a lot of reading online--blogs, etc.--that falls into some of the subjects I'm not (currently) covering in books.

Ugh. I need to finish some of these!!

Local News

2011-12-30T06:59:00.000-06:00

19-year-old killed in accidental shooting

Just absolutely bloody horrifying. Another realization that Mom was right when she told me that once I became a parent, I'd worry about everything to do with Sparky, all the time, for the rest of my life.*

While I don't know any of the people named in this story, it just tears me up inside knowing how heartbroken they all are.

And I send a plea up to God: "Please God, not me, not us, not Sparky."

*what she actually said was I'd never sleep as deeply again--but I sleep just fine, usually

Critical mass

2011-12-28T07:16:00.000-06:00

I've reached it. So angry I can hardly type.

Probably related to last night's angst...

2011-12-27T12:49:00.000-06:00

HAPPY 90TH BIRTHDAY, MOM!

[she always wanted a bright blue door on our house in the mountains....]

Miss you.
Love you.

It's too early to go to bed

2011-12-26T21:35:00.000-06:00

I woke up this morning at 9:15, so it's far too early for me to hit the sheets. However, the rest of the humans are already in bed, and even the guinea pigs are eerily quiet. I'm a little bored. A little antsy. And little...piqued.

My mouth hurts. I wasn't able to get hold of the dentist today, even to leave a message, because their phone tripped right over into that fast busy signal that indicates problems on the line.

I can feel several things hanging off my shoulder to be worried about soon: new insurance in 6 days, new prescriptions need to written and sent for mail-order delivery, new schedule at work, family arriving this weekend. And there are the more immediate worries that I'm adamantly trying not to dwell on because they are more serious than any of the above, with no real good solutions. I'm in a quandary about some stuff and don't like any of the outcomes I see. The fact that I can't control any of it, not really, is making me cranky, bitter, sad, and defeated. And it's all just in time for the onset of the worst part of the year in terms of SAD. This must be the part of middle age that just sucks: the reality that the easiest years of life are over and everything to come is complicated and potentially difficult, with traps and mires everywhere both visible and sneaky. I don't like it.

This week is going to be a little bumpy at work as well. There are quite a few people on vacation, so I'll be pulling more public hours. The boss is probably back in more regularly after several weeks off on vacation and then ill, so she'll need hand-holding as she gets up to speed. My desk is a mess--I haven't properly cleared it off and cleaned it in months, possibly over a year, and it is making me a little nuts. {And let's not even discuss the state of my desk at home...because it's at the point that a lit match may be the only way to deal with it...}

I want to get my plane ticket and hotel sorted out for ALA Midwinter next month. It's another one of those things hanging off my right shoulder about ear level, floating, waiting to pounce and cause a total mental meltdown.

I miss my dad today, too, and Beast's dad. And, more unusually, my mom. There are a lot of days that I think of her--this is one of them--and wonder how the hell she did it. As fraught as our relationship was, I knew she didn't have a particularly easy life. How did she manage to keep her body and soul together when things were falling apart around her so often? That is something I never thought to ask her, and now, when I need to know the answer, it's a little hard to hear her voice. Yeah, right: my tooth hurts, so I want my mommy, OK?

And all of this on a day when I actually accomplished some stuff: Sparky has two new pairs of shoes (Christmas presents) purchased at Famous Footwear this morning, I have 'provisions' in for the week, I actually cooked dinner tonight using a new recipe for something I can't find my old standby recipe for--and even though I boiled over the white sauce in the microwave, I managed to salvage dinner well enough for it to be edible--and we watched Harry Potter...Hallows...2 so I can return it to the library tomorrow FINALLY. It's only 2 weeks-ish overdue!

Perhaps it is time for me to go to bed. I think two Tylenol PMs should help me immeasurably: take away the tooth pain and relax me enough to banish the bogeymen (i.e. worries) for a few hours.

Merry (belated) Christmas

2011-12-26T11:13:00.000-06:00

...and happy Kwanzaa and Boxing Day.

Sparky and I are going shoe-shopping (for him) today, and we need some groceries. The shoes are part of his Xmas prezzies, but I don't buy shoes unless the wearer has tried them on. So...off we go, in a bit.

Meanwhile, I'll just write that yesterday was a most excellent day. Lots of very good presents for me, Beast and Sparky both seemed happy with their haul, and we didn't do ANYthing all day. Skyped with the Tennesseeans for a bit, noshed our way around the kitchen, I took a nap, we all played with our new toys and read and lounged. The Packers beat the Bears in the evening, and we all headed to bed feeling that all was right with the world.

Then I brushed my teeth and ended up with tiny pieces of molar floating around my mouth. Yup: broken back tooth, basically one of the cusps on one of my 12-year molars sheared right off. So, I get to go to the dentist this week (once they get their phones fixed--right now, I just get the 'out-of-service' honking noise when I call--and I can't eat any of the candy Santa brought, or much of anything else, really.

So, off we go to the store to distract myself from a mildly achy mouth. If this is the price I have to pay for a really superb day, I'm ok with it.

I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas with no broken body parts.

2011-12-24T18:45:00.001-06:00

As posted elsewhere, my list of things to do today looked like this:

Make cookies
Wash bedspread
Wash lingerie
Finish wrapping presents
Christmas cards
Clean our bathroom (the one in our bedroom)

I could probably send a few last Christmas cards, but otherwise every single thing is done, and done well. This is unusual; I usually have an unrealistic view of my time and energy and create lists that are insane. I wasn't sure I'd actually finish all 6 things today, but I did. Yes, there are still a few gifts to wrap, but the recipient won't be around tomorrow, so I did procrastinate on those. And technically, Sparky made the cookies--throwing two kinds of prepackaged chips in a graham cracker crust, sprinkling with coconut and baking them for a half hour hardly constitutes "making cookies."

All that's left to do is get my hair sorted out (post-shower) and then the evening's activities can commence: Chinese food, Christmas-light viewing, and church. I should be in bed by 12:30ish. I just asked Sparky if he's leaving a note for Santa, and got a negative-sounding grunt in response.

Book title drama

2011-12-20T19:26:00.002-06:00

First four books to catalog this evening:

The Everything Guide to Narcissistic Personality Disorder
When the War Never Ends*: the Voices of Military Members with PTSD and Their Families
Tea Leaf Reading for Beginners
The Vampire Defanged: How the Embodiment of Evil Became a Romantic Hero

All have holds on them. I'm hoping the holds are for four different people, but I wouldn't bet on it.

____________
*Originally published as "Wenn der Krieg nicht endet"--yes, really....

Visual DNA

2011-12-04T19:09:00.001-06:00

So, I did my VisualDNA test and got some freaky deaky results. I'd go thru and highlight what's right but the only thing I read that I don't agree with had something to do with fashion. I hate when tests get it right. sigh. ;-)

This made me laugh out loud for real

2011-12-02T10:37:00.001-06:00

Why public restrooms can be horrible:

Also, what happens in my house as "panel 5" involves mutilation of people's bodies. It only happens once; it's memorable. :D

Old haunts

2011-11-28T12:53:00.001-06:00

I can't remember if I have mentioned that Sparky is attending the same college that Beast and I went to (independent of our wishes, by the way--he really wanted to go there more than either of us wanted him to). The school is about an hour from our house, so it's quite easy for him to get home and back on holidays, unlike either of his parents who were both at least 1000 miles from home and only got home on the Big Ones: Christmas and Spring Break.

We took him back last night after I got home from work, leaving the house at about 5:45 and dumping his stuff in his dorm room and heading to a nearby pizza ~~dive~~ establishment that also serves up a local specialty: p0nz@r0tti. It's inside-out pizza, deep-fried. Probably the worst food on the planet, and SO FREAKIN' GOOD (till you're done and spend hours burping...).

Amazing: biting into the crust was like biting into College. It brought every p0nz@ I've eaten right back to mind. Crazy-good. Also, last night was the first time I've ever finished one in one sitting. My eating, uhm, skills have increased over the past 30 years, I guess. hah

So we were enjoying the ambiance (ahem) and watching the people coming in to eat or pick up orders. There was a high school-ish aged couple that came in right after us with her little sister; they sat in the booth behind ours. There were families and groups of friends, some stereotypical people, some not-so. Mostly just a busy pizza spot for all intents and purposes.

This being the state that it is, a guy came in and ordered a (small) plastic cup of beer. I am not sure at all whether he ordered anything else, but bear in mind that this is NOT a bar, but every place in that state serves beer. It's required, possibly even state law (I think they have to serve milk too, FWIW, lol). He was clearly already off on his own little spirit-induced planet, which became extremely obvious when he began to play air-guitar licks along with the hard-rock station providing the background music. This was baroque, visually noisy guitar-playing, very flamboyant. Sparky and I could barely keep straight faces.

Dude then offered his partially-eaten back of pork rinds around to the people behind him (two booths from us), then made a general incoherent announcement that he was willing to share: "Anibod' wan eni? Ann-nee-bod'?" At this point I noted that his beer was only down about 1/2" so he hadn't GOTTEN drunk on-site, but he was (as I told Beast) well past 12 sheets to the wind.

And then he noticed Beast. And Sparky. And came over to push Beast's shoulder and tell him that he could tell that Beast is "a grea' mutha-fuckin' dad!" then point at Sparky and say, "You oughdda be ... yer dad's a good fugg-kin' dad, I can tell! My dad was an asssssss-ho' but this guy....." prod, push "is a GOOD fuckin' dad."

Silence had fallen in the restaurant at this point. Everyone at all the tables was watching avidly from under their hats and half-closed eyes, ever-so-grateful this guy had leeched onto us instead of them, gauging what the chances are of getting out the door without him seeing them and following them out. No one moved.

Beast took it in good stride, keeping his eyes on the guy's face, but watching the rest of the room (that he could see) as well, agreeing with him, not encouraging him, but letting him ramble on. And ramble on he did, mostly in a language I don't speak aside from the frequent "mutha-fucks" and "bu'SHIT!" interpolations. Thankfully, he was so stereotypical of the area that I wasn't even in the room as far as he was concerned, so I could pay attention to the rest of the room (that I could see) and Sparky--who mostly looked shell-shocked but was following his dad's lead and nodding agreeably whenever the diatribe seemed directed at him--until Beast finally said, "Well, we need to get going." Another minute or so, and we were standing and putting our coats on and moving slowly towards the entrance. As soon as we stood, the high school-ish kids behind us were on their feet and moving, using us as shields to get out the door at the same time. I caught the girl's eye in the doorway and she said, "We were just waiting for you to leave so we could!" Yeah, they were the next in line to be 'advised' by this guy.

Sparky and I got to the car with Beast following a few seconds later; he had stopped at the kitchen door because he had been able to see the staff watching from there and wanted to let them know that the guy wasn't really hassling us, but he was right on the edge and could easily get to be a problem if he took something just the wrong way.

This sort of occurrence used to happen occasionally when we lived in the area; it was quite weird to have it happen again last night after living where we do now for 17 years. I don't think we've had to deal this directly with a drunk in eons. Maybe because Sparky was little for most of that time, but I think really it's a whole cultural thing; people around here have a whole different take on drinking than people in that area.

Aside from the nerve-wracking, somewhat humorous aspects of all this, I just felt so sad for the guy. He probably isn't any older than Beast and me, possibly younger, and his life is so small. Sigh.

Sparky...didn't really say much. It probably re-confirmed his lack of interest in drinking, though. I hope. Thanks, God! :-)

Today, Beast is feeling horrible--sort of food-poisoned--and he's wondering if, while shaking the guy's hand goodbye last night, he picked up some kind of bug. The guy's hands were NOT clean; we discussed that last night in fact, and Beast went and washed up at the dorm when we dropped off Sparky. In any case, he's crashed out "watching" Scott Van Pelt on ESPN in his recliner under a blanket.

Oh, and our garage door spring broke over the weekend. It's been a very bizarre few days.

Twitter

2011-11-08T08:17:00.000-06:00

So.

I have a Twitter account -- no, I'm not linking to it here because it's a little too obvious who I am there, but if you know me and want it, let me know -- not that I tweet much. But because it mentions that I work in a library, and because MANY tweets are about library stuff, and because I follow other library tweeters, I get random followers who think I'm "somebody."

I'm not.

Today's addition is someone named Chelles!e B D@ncer who apparently writes "er0tic" fiction. Yesterday was about loan reconsolidation (or something), and last week I was found by a marketing CEO and something called Keep[suburb name]Cops. Earlier random followers include a HVAC company and a roofing company.

Those are just the ones I haven't blocked because they are skanky or phishy.

And that is all the news that's fit to print today. Sadly.

What? Where? Oh, yeah....

2011-11-06T18:23:00.002-06:00

So the whole month of October passed with nothing to say here. Sigh. I even stopped meming for a couple of weeks. Thing is nothing much really did happen, although I'm sure I could've found something to say about some of the 'nothing' that happened.

Like, for instance, my boss double-dealing me on hours and holding out a promise of going full-time and then acting like it was a bit of a misunderstanding when I came back with a yes answer after doing some due diligence. Or perhaps the trip to the E.R. with Beast a couple of Saturday nights ago during which the cops babysitting the drunk next door came over to tell us to settle down and stop yelling (at the doctor). Then there was the phone call at work from Sparky about the fact that we hadn't paid the bill for his first semester of college.

There were some good things too: Amy visiting, a nice Homecoming with Sparky, a wicked-funny reunion event for reasons having more to do with cattiness than anything else, getting lost with Jen in our former college town while trying to get into Walgreen's leading to an extended giggle-fit, the fact that Beast only spent that one night in the hospital, and Fall Break with Sparky spending 80% of his waking hours in the basement ignoring us.

Beast's back, overall, is improving. Allergy season may (MAY!) actually be over, finally, for me. Sparky is doing well academically, and still enjoying the fun of dorm life. We have a new guinea pig, as yet unnamed; he seems to be getting along fine with Ruka who has taken on a bit of a protective role suddenly and surprisingly.

I really must try to get back in the habit of stopping by here to update things. It's become fairly obvious that I do use the archives to figure out when stuff happened in the past 8 years. So I need to do myself a favor and write about NOW for the future.

RV capitol of the U.S.

2011-09-30T21:15:00.000-05:00

That's where we're spending the night on our way to the funeral and burial of FIL which is happening on Sunday. This is a place we stop frequently. Beast actually has a work colleague and customers here, so he's far too familiar with the town. Actually, I am too--as we left to find dinner, I realized that I remember walking from the hotel next door to a now-nonexistent grocery store next door.

Beast is uploading slides onto his computer for a slide-show to play at the funeral home on Sunday.

I'm about as close to asleep as someone can be and still have her eyes open. Maybe I should go jammie-up and wash my face and teeth so I can safely drop off. Unfortunately, the headache I had all day, the headache which finally disappeared about 2 hours into today's drive, seems to be on its way back. Sigh. Gotta be tension, but I can't remember a day when I've had a full-day headache.

So you can sorta see why I'm not blogging much if this is the content that might be the norm.

R.I.P.

2011-09-27T11:54:00.000-05:00

FIL passed away peacefully just moments after BIL arrived from New York last night. He seemed fully aware that BIL was there, and just let go.

1930-2011

Loved. Missed.

So, here's the deal:

2011-09-21T20:37:00.000-05:00

Beast has had two more shots in his spine since he left the hospital. He started physical therapy, finally, last week as he was starting to feel a little better.

Then, last Friday, his dad was sent from his regular dialysis appointment to the ER because he just "wasn't right." He has continued to be "not right" in spite of doctors trying everything they can think of to figure out what has gone wrong. He's had dialysis three times since admission, they've weaned him off all meds that could be making him tired, and they gave him IV steroids to keep pulmonary issues at bay. Except, yeah, he doesn't tolerate IV steroids; they make him hallucinate. So, he's been completely flaked out for the last couple of days, leading to a distinct lack of appetite today. This is really not like him, to say the least. He is fading.

Beast has medical power of attorney, so if FIL is really unable to make decisions for himself, Beast has to. He's already refused--twice--to have him intubated as that is something FIL has repeatedly said he doesn't want. So, yeah, Beast is ...rough.

Beast's back has gotten substantially worse as the days have gone by, so that tonight he's in the most pain he's been in since the hospital, I think. Some of that can probably be attributed to the stress of the past five days, but he's also been sitting in bad-for-his-back furniture at the hospital, standing on his feet too much, pushing himself. Because this is just exactly the way he rolls. And much of what is going on can really ONLY be done by him.

And my job...omg, so awful. Two professional staff members have given notice in the past 9 weeks; they happen to be the youngest librarians in the building. OK, no, they don't "just happen to be" anything; they couldn't work with our boss, who is truly unworkable-with in many ways. There is a mutiny afoot as a result. Even I, who haven't had nearly the number of issues with her that other people have (for me, she's mostly just pesky, like that fly that won't stop buzzing around your head for hours), went in and told her I was really, really angry about not being asked about picking up extra hours; I've only been asking for full-time for 5 fuckin' years! She is not professional about her job, either. But, I'm leery; I know how easily things could be worse. So, a little of the ol' rock <--> hard place for me.

Did I mention the last ten days has been the worst allergy season I've been through in the past several years? I feel like warmed-over shit, tired from all the Benadryl and Zyrtec I'm downing to keep me from tearing my throat out. It doesn't help that I'm not sleeping well because of all the other shit going on. At least the Benadryl at bedtime knocks me right out for the night. Last night is typical of the nights I don't do that: slept 11-3, rolled around for another 90 minutes pretending to sleep, gave up at 4:45 and did a crossword until it was time to get up at 5:30. At least I'm not bugging Beast; he can't lie flat, so he's sleeping in the recliner in the living room.

This is why I'm offline. I've dug out the old CD for The Sims and I'm playing that again, as escape. Gah.

THANK GOD Sparky isn't around for this. He is blissfully unaware of how dire things are back at home. Which is just fine.

Post Secret

2011-09-11T08:00:00.000-05:00

I don't do this very often, but one of the Post Secrets this week could be mine:

Amen!

Ch-ch-ch-changes

2011-08-26T06:03:00.000-05:00

In the next 2 hours, we will be packing up the last few things for Sparky and driving him to college.

In the next 8 hours, we will be unloading boxes and crates and schlepping them to his dorm room and meeting roommates and parents and RAs and all the New Important People in his life.

In the next 12 hours, the last apron strings will start fraying in earnest.

In the next 15 hours, our house will be back to two people (and a guinea pig, instead of finches and/or dog).

In the next 24 hours, I will start figuring out what I'm doing with the rest of my life.

And...GO!

Holy cow bear

2011-08-21T07:30:00.000-05:00

Perfect timing on one of this week's Postsecret submissions:

[no, I did not send it in; it's good to have company though]

Mellencamp strikes again

2011-08-09T09:54:00.000-05:00

Just heard this song for the first time. He does write good stuff:

I'm not following your frame of mind
Complaining about this life all the time
Surely something good here as the world spins by
Could you please stop being so mean

This will never work out that's what you say
It's the end of the world again yesterday
When I see you coming at me I'm gonna walk away
You need to stop being so mean

Your outlook is haunting us all
Like the ghost of our love down at the dark end of the hall
If you can't say nothing good then don't say nothing at all
And you need to stop being so mean

Your road seems so narrow to me
You're a big boat up the river blowing off steam
My head is spinning from your company
Could you please stop being so mean

I'm not following your frame of mind
Complaining about this life all the time
Surely something good here as the world spins by
Could you please just stop being so mean

Guess I need an attitude adjustment, eh, Johnny?

...aaaaand....he's home

2011-08-04T07:25:00.005-05:00

After a very frustrating day yesterday, spent waiting for his primary doc to sign him out, Beast was released at 6 p.m. with one last IV pain shot and a couple of scrips for oral meds he can take. Turns out he actually has 5 affected discs this time, so instead of simply re-injuring the original two, they have decided to share the wealth.

He also now has a stylin' green cane to use till he gets the sensation in his right foot back. He can move around the house fairly well with that and he even made it upstairs last night to sleep in bed instead of having to crash in his recliner like last time.

All is better, but definitely not 'well.' For now, we'll take "happy to be home" over the continued frustrations of being in the hospital.

Oh, and Sparky got his computer late in the afternoon Tuesday. He's been enjoying setting it up since then.

So now, if only I could figure out how I ended up having to work both Friday and Saturday this week, things would be approaching good for all of us. Since we lost our children's librarian a couple of weeks ago--long story there--and two other reference staff are sick and another on vacation, I'm going to have to pull some public service hours today as well as the next two days. Joy. Rapture. ...blergh...

The later part of "more later"

2011-08-02T16:29:00.001-05:00

So, yeah, Beast had another spinal cortisone shot about two hours ago. They got him back to the room, I hooked up his CPap, and ducked out to come home. He was really out of it when I left, so hopefully he'll sleep a good portion of the afternoon and early evening.

Most of the reason I came home is because Sparky, while doing his best, is BORED OUT OF HIS MIND, and quite annoyed. Here's the backstory:

On July 16, we ordered a computer from Dell for him for college, built to the spex the college gave us and with a lot of extra whistles and bells, and some peripherals (one of which, a printer, is actually for us). The separate hard drive, and the extra cabling arrived almost immediately. The printer arrived about a week after we ordered it, at most. The laptop...is still not here. [Insert long story about phone calls to India, changed stock numbers, reordering, being on the phone for a total of nearly five hours over a few days last week...] FedEx received it last Thursday for shipping. It arrived in our area last Friday at the close of the business day, which means--because we didn't pay extra for the delivery--that they held it till Monday. Monday, i.e. yesterday, we were at the doctor and hospital all morning, and returned to find that they'd tried to deliver it. They need a signature. No one was here. OK, they'll try again today.

Sparky has been on tenterhooks ALL DAY waiting for it. It's after 4 now and still not here, even though it shows out for delivery. Clearly, they've swapped the order they are doing the route today. I'm annoyed because I'm about at the end of my last good nerve anyway, and so when I talked to him about 2:30 and he was all pissy about this, I told him he could invite Jet over if it meant he would be less cranky.

So I got home from the hospital to find Jet and Sparky in the basement (good luck hearing the doorbell down there with the XBox volume at 11), along with another kid whom I've met once and about whom I've heard numerous 'head-desk', OMG-duh stories from both guys. In my house. [picture me doing the Home Alone face] We have a fairly constant rule that we need to know who's in the house with Sparky. When I reminded him of that, he said, "You said I could have Jet come over!" to which I replied, "Yes, I said having Jet here is and was fine. I didn't know 'Jet' means 'Jet-and-Brandon' now. A warning text would have been nice, at the very least."

And just now, when I asked where yesterday's delivery receipt from FedEx went--so I could call and find out if we had any idea about timing of that for this afternoon--Sparky mentioned that he'd already called and was told they keep doing deliveries till 8 p.m. Thanks for filling me in on that, dude.

Yes, I'm just wee bit cranky. Trying to keep the lid on, not really looking forward with joy about the next few days/weeks, and realizing there's not one person in our household who is happy right now. Well, ok: Ruka might not be overly cranky, but the humans are crabby.

Looks like I picked the wrong week to stop sniffin' glue....

What blogs are good for

2011-08-02T07:40:00.000-05:00

In this case, they are good for dating the last occurrence of Beast being admitted to the hospital in dire pain from his back. The last one, that is, before yesterday.

Yes, so he's in the Big House again, although this time is less severe. They MRI'd him yesterday and he finally got into his regular room about 9 p.m. I'm about to head back over to see what today looks like and perhaps find out the results of the MRI.

Whee. At least Sparky is home this time to help with some of the fetch-and-carry things. He's been a trouper, though he gets bored sitting at the hospital.

More later, perhaps.

No nerves

2011-07-09T18:42:00.003-05:00

OK, so I have the new Blogger post template and it's extremely odd. I'm sure I'll get used to it, but right now it's just ... white on white.

But the main reason I decided to break radio -- er, blog -- silence is that I realized today that I've finally reached the point where I don't lie awake for a week before an 'event' and worry and plan and obsess and freak out about it endlessly. Tomorrow is Sparky's graduation party and despite the fact that we don't know if we'll have 30 or 100 people show up, I'm pretty much ok with where we are. I realized a few days ago that anyone who isn't on Facebook isn't going to come because I didn't do any invites outside of the Event posting there. I suck. And I'm ok with that.

And that's the weird part: I'm ok with things. We may need more food, entailing an emergency run to the store midday. We may not have enough chairs, or tables. People will just have to pitch in and get comfortable and hang out. I hope they are ok with that. I am. And tomorrow, I'll have to be aware of people who aren't quite sure of themselves. And, guess what: I'm ok with that too.

In other news, it's hotter than blazes, and we haven't had rain for a couple of weeks, so I'm really excited about the fact that the grass is CRUNCHY, like when I grew up!

[Side note: our creepy neighbor was arrested yesterday at his house. That's all we know, aside from refusing to leave his house until a warrant was issued, which took a couple of hours. I'm sure it'll be in the paper.]

What a difference six years makes

2011-06-18T08:52:00.002-05:00

Tomorrow is the beginning of our last youth group mission trip. Looking back six years to when we first started as youth group leaders, what I remember most is feeling totally panicked over this part of the job. The people who were in charge before us left us a little bit high-and-dry; there was nothing we could go on with anything--they even refused to give us the remaining checks for the bank account so forget asking them for help in finding a site for mission work!

We muddled through. And Katrina happened about two weeks before our first meeting in the fall of 2004, which led to an easy decision about where we were going. The major problem was WHERE and how to hook up with people who needed assistance. So God stepped in and sent other church members to the Gulf Coast to scope out a site. We ended up taking two high schoolers that year, but making it a combined mission experience with about 10 adults and 4 younger kids, not all of whom were members of our church. It was complicated. And frustrating. And absolutely amazing. It made me into a mission-junkie. Beast, too.

The following year we were on our own and I discovered that there are organizations 'out there' that coordinate trips for harried youth group leaders. In the end we blindly picked (were pushed into by God, really) an organization called Youthworks which has 50-60 sites around the continent that they staff and plan for every year. The sites range from rural to urban, and provide places for everyone ages 12 to 18 to serve. Since that year, they have expanded to multi-generational sites where whole families and church groups of all ages can attend. I so much want to do one of those! But I'm getting ahead of myself.

In June of 2007 we took Sparky and three high school girls to Minneapolis for a week. That's the short version. The longer version is that I spent most of the first six months of that year in a state of panic over the paperwork that needed to be filled out, the money that had to be collected. I must have sent out at least six letters to the group and their parents about the trip over the course of the year. I worried constantly that we were going to have any number of problems or issues or scary events. Instead it turned out to be life-changing in all the good ways. The girls accepted Sparky unquestioningly (he was a year younger than them, not yet in high school), the college-age leaders were astounding in their faith and work ethic and joy, the work sites were indescribably rich in teachable moments, the church in which we 'lived' was spacious and had a pop machine (!)...and we got to go to Mall of America as a treat for our group at the end of the week. All that was great, but the most important, awe-inspiring thing was watching all of us explode in the growth of our faith and understanding of our purpose here. All my worries, all the panic, all the concerns about safety and planning and potential homesickness...all for naught.

The only downside of that trip was the fact that it was a combined middle school and high school trip. We are not cut out for dealing with 13-year-olds. We have specified high-school only trips from that year on.

In 2008, we took a larger group (about 10, I think) to the city where Beast and I lived for 6 years, and where Sparky was born. It was easier in many ways, not the least of which was knowing our way around town. The church was outstanding, the work was rewarding, the leaders were good.

In 2009, it was time to step away from urban sites. The kids elected to go to an an Ojibway reservation. We stayed at a school instead of a church, it was much cooler the week we were there, and the leaders--both those from Youthworks and those from the other church groups there that week--were absolutely unbelievably great. The pace was much slower, there were fewer 'a-ha' moments for the kids, but I think eyes were opened, perhaps more slowly and over a longer period of time afterwards, just as much as in their (our) service in the cities we'd been in.

Last year we went to our denomination's youth conference. It was a different experience from working all week, but we were every bit as sweaty and dirty and uncomfortable and tired as we were on mission trips, and there was every bit as much Spirit there in somewhat more obvious ways. It was a blast. In some respects last summer was a harder year because it required more internal 'work,' more honesty, more in-your-face challenges. For me, at least. I was wrecked at the end of the week.

For our final trip, we are headed east for the first time. We are back in a city. And the place we're staying sounds like the Hilton: beds (OMG--no air mattresses! Just sleeping bags), air conditioning, on-site showers!! And, where the first year I was staging the packing easily a week before we left, this year I haven't actually started packing. I don't even have clothes to take: I need to hit the store today for jeans and capris. In short, I'm probably the most under-prepared I've ever been for anything. And I'm ok with that; whatever is going to happen will happen regardless of the contingencies I've planned for.

We're taking Ruka to the rat-sitter this morning, then stopping at an ATM and Farm & Fleet for money and clothes, and then it's hope to start throwing shit into bags. I need to send a Facebook reminder about timing for tomorrow, and then I'm calling it done. Bring it on, God!! I'm ready for our swan song!

Seeing the future

2011-06-17T18:45:00.006-05:00

I have a colleague (shudder) in the library field whose social network stuff is ... uhm ... interesting to read, or at least pop into periodically. She bears watching. I recently set up HootSuite to stream any mention of her tweets or mentions of her tweets in a separate column. The column title is "DangerWillRobinson!" I added her (ahem) inamorato to this list: tweets by and about him as well.

This week, said boy has suddenly hit a little blurp of fame on a geek library site, blah blah blah. About two dozen people tweeted huzzahs in his direction. Said girl ... did not. Now, it's perfectly possible that she has learned the value of private communication (not fucking likely, but let's give a girl a break), although one could--and I would--argue that publicly congratulating someone you "love" is not something you should ever hold back on. But based on what she DID tweet today it certainly doesn't seem like this leopard's spots have changed a bit.

Having watched other relationships she's been in implode (rather explosively), this is how it starts. The spotlight shifts to someone else, and she gets peeved. Payback ensues. Etc., etc. ... fireworks.

I wonder if she is even aware of this cycle. I KNOW he doesn't have a clue. Idiot. Please God, don't let Sparky get mixed up with anyone like her; hopefully I've 'trained' him better!

One of those days

2011-06-14T19:41:00.001-05:00

Couldn't sleep last night--stupid Restless Legs. Go ahead and laugh. I hope if you find it amusing, you develop this in the future. It's fucking ANNOYING, and useless to complain about. Beast was already asleep so I did what I did in our 20s: crept as quietly as possible out of bed with my crosswords and came downstairs to sleep on the couch. I did sleep, eventually, but not well and surely not long enough.

Which wasn't a great start, but everything went pretty well at home.

Then I got to work. Had a thoroughly useless staff meeting, experienced two rounds of Total Condescension brought on by asking what I thought were fairly innocuous questions, had to re-enter ALL login/password stuff on EVERY site I use EVERY day MULTIPLE times over the course of the next four hours, put out about five forest fires for assorted people (many of which were also tech issues), and simmered.

Ugh.

Probably a good thing Beast is at a business meeting/dinner tonight. At least he doesn't have to bear the brunt of my craptastic day.

On the other hand, I got a fun package in the mail today, and there's more on the way, and I only have 3 more days this week to work until the mission trip starts.

Blog vacation

2011-06-13T18:00:00.003-05:00

Apparently, I took most of the month of May off this year. I have to get a grip on writing again. There are just too many things going on, many of which I don't want to (or can't) discuss here because they are too close to the bone at this point.

One of the events of the last several weeks is that Beast's aunt died, the sister of his mom. This leaves his dad as the last of the Old Guard. Aunt M (yeah, just did the requisite Wizard of Oz thing in my head) was a terrific woman, and I feel fortunate to have gotten to know her just a little bit. The funeral was good. A bit weird for me, but good as funerals go. But it's hit Beast hard.

Sparky graduated. We got his grades last week, which got us grounded in reality after weeks of believing all the nice things people have been saying about him since school let out for him. ...sigh At least his grades weren't so bad that his college scholarship will be affected. At this point. I'm worried, but I'm trying to let him fly on his own--if he crashes, it may be the only way he learns. Just like most of the rest of the men on my side of the family. Genetic flaw? Goofy nurturing techniques? I don't know.

We've been attending graduation parties almost every weekend. We also helped Amy move. Twice. Long story. If you know her, go read her blog for more about that. The place she's in now (as of yeserday) is lovely. I'd live there in a heartbeat! The intermediary place...let's just say it needed lots of TLC. Or dynamite.

I am finally starting to catch up on the huge backlog that accrued in April, at the end of our budget year. Have learned that I can blow through 80 items a day on a regular basis and still manage to keep my insanity and general assholish behavior under control.

Katherine is still a complete wreck. One of her coworkers committed suicide last month, so she's justifiably upset about that. But she's already so close to the edge for me that I don't have a lot of extra rope to throw her. We're supposed to go to a party at her and Alan's house over the weekend of the 4th, but she's completely pissing me off about it. The only thing that's keeping me from bailing is that Elizabeth, Ken and Baby J will be there (and Marie and Jan). It may be the only chance I get to see the little guy!

And amidst all of this I'm trying to keep a grip on all the things that need doing/buying/organizing before Sparky heads off to college in August. We are slowly buying things, but I think I'm going to wait till the back-to-school sales start before I really go to town on shopping. And we need to find out about his roommate and negotiate the big stuff with him and his family.

Oh, and there's the mission trip next week. And Sparky's outrageously bad allergies. And my weight. And, and, and....

So yeah, having listed this--and, as I said, this is not even close to all of the stuff in the air--I'm now wondering just exactly why I'm not panicking every second of the day. And night. Hopefully I won't start now!

Like father, like son

2011-05-30T20:28:00.001-05:00

My brother wrote a long email to all of us this weekend catching us up and informing us that he really is on the verge of starting his own consulting business. He has decades of experience in the ins and outs of organizing and managing fire departments, specifically airport fire-and-rescue, so he's hanging his shingle out in the area of coordinating those things with departments and organizations that need help.

His current job is winding down, due to incredible bad management and lack of forward thinking. Del's currently the only salesperson left ... in a company that sells trucks to organizations. Kinda lame. And they sold off a multi-million dollar side product recently for essentially nothing.

So having a plan like this is good. As I wrote him back, he is not our Dad. Dad was not a great businessman. On the other hand, Del has "walked in the business world for many years successfully, as an employee, and have learned how NOT to manage a company, as well as having worked for occasional good managers and learned from them." His wife will be able to do the financials for him, so if they don't kill each other, this all looks cool.

Oh, and his son is getting married in October. Right now, it's only my nephews who aren't married, and that's changing, so maybe there is hope for the 38- and 36-year-old.

So, yeah. Tomorrow, it's back to work for me, back to weeding for Sparky, and back to the car for Beast. Nice long weekend.

Dreams

2011-05-27T07:35:00.001-05:00

Yeah. I had a couple of doozies this morning, one that I sorta understand and one that is just bizarre.

I made a pretty disparaging comment on Twitter yesterday (since deleted) about some big library-related thing that's going around lately. The dream--more a thought, really--was that a friend blocked me from her feed because of what I said; I noticed because I hadn't seen any tweets from her in the afternoon/evening yesterday.

I then lay there half-awake sorting out what to do: check to see if she did block me, write her an apology?, oh-hell-who-cares... It was basically all 5 of Kübler-Ross's stages of grief compressed into about half an hour. Once I got out of bed and checked Twitter, I found several tweets from her. And then it hit me that there's this time-zone thing.... Duh. All that angst for nothing!

The other dream was a proper dream, which ended for some reason with the Twitter-block thought. There is no connection that I can see. In a nutshell, I was with the youth group kids (I think?) on a trip and one of them found a purse left in the restroom. We had been riding trains--I know where I got that (I read this right before bed last night thanks to the London Underground blog*)--and were collecting ourselves at the end of the ride. So we looked around for the owner, and eventually I opened the wallet to see whose it was, and it was the wife of the author of another blog I read, which shall remain unidentified because it has nothing whatsoever to do with anything else in this dream. I'll just say it's a blog written by a funny Christian guy whom I have not met IRL. His wife either.

So as soon as I saw her name, I knew I could let her know by checking the blog for contact info. So I went to my growing-up church (in Colorado) where I found our current pastor (not in Colorado) and borrowed his computer to get the contact info, which turned out to be a phone number. [proof that this is a dream, no?] Unfortunately, it was presented as words, like CHURCH INFO, only it was about 5 lines of text long. My cell phone has a QWERTY keyboard, so I had to use a land-line phone to translate all this into numbers before I could call....

So very frustrated by all of this. It went on and on, as these sorts of dreams do, until I woke up with the whole Tweet-block thing.

Short version: life is complicated and frustrating, trying to be helpful can be a huge pain, I like trains, I need to watch what I write in public, and sleeping is not for wimps.
__________

* Just figured out the connection between these two. OK, well, at least that part makes sense now.

Things in my head

2011-05-15T19:44:00.000-05:00

Well, our last Youth Sunday is over. Another six weeks, tops, and we're done with leadership in that aspect of our lives. I've been sick for the past few days, so this morning was kind of surreal with the overriding mantra of "Nearly done, nearly done, nearly done" as the morning progressed. I love these kids, but I'm tired.

Next weekend is graduation. Also the grad parties start. We haven't scheduled Sparky's graduation party yet because we've all just been so lazy. Or, well, to be fair, busy.

Read a posting today by a friend about his former wife who is astoundingly, astonishingly, unbelievably obtuse about life, especially given the fact that she's really quite smart. And mean-spirited. I don't like mean people. I've said that many, many times. Intentionally stupid annoys me too. If you're reading this, Former Friend, I hope that's clear enough for you.

One of Katherine's coworkers killed himself about two weeks ago, so she's far in the dumps about it. She worked with him regularly and obviously any sensible person would be hurt and sad.

Allergy season has hit hard today, I'm still tired, we're having pizza--probably not my best cecision, given the extended break my intestines have been on this weekend--and tomorrow starts a brand-new week during which perhaps I'll figure out a way to give a shit about something.

Bin Laden is dead

2011-05-02T07:10:00.001-05:00

...long live the war.

I'm worried about Beast as he travels across country today. And I'm worried about Ham doing his TSA work today and for the next few weeks.

And I do not like the fact that the crowds cheering last night bore a horrible resemblance to the crowds cheering outside the U.S. Embassy in Iran 30+ years ago.

As a wise friend of mine said on Facebook last night, "justice won't heal the broken hearted, how can't we see that?"

And then there's this:

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were; any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

--John Donne

Poetry Month

2011-04-30T00:01:00.001-05:00

Sonnet 98
by William Shakespeare

From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him,
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odor and in hue,
Could make me any summer's story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew.
Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
     Yet seemed it winter still, and, you away,
     As with your shadow I with these did play.

Poetry Month

2011-04-29T00:01:00.000-05:00

Upon Time and Eternity
by John Bunyan

LXXII. Upon Time and Eternity.
Eternity is like unto a Ring.
Time, like to Measure, doth it self extend;
Measure commences, is a finite thing.
The Ring has no beginning, middle, end.

Things I should mention

2011-04-28T06:44:00.000-05:00

Ellen and Spence are married. W00t. More on that later, I promise.
In spite of walking miles every day for at least 10 of the days we were gone, I gained weight. This does not come as a big surprise since I felt like I ate all day every day. Oh well.
Either my eyes have gotten very bad, or Blogger (in draft) shrinky-dinked their template page font. Everything is minuscule now.
I love my Nook. I may have mentioned that, but it's still true. It's not the same as reading a book-book, but that doesn't make it bad by any means. Some books won't work right in it, and sometimes you just need to hold a book, but the content of the book in a Nook is the same. Maybe better, since I can adjust the print size and leave myself notes without needing a pen to hand all the time.
Between the Nook and the Flip, we got lots of attention from technophiles overseas. And we took illegal video. Maybe I'll post some. :-)
Speaking of the Flip: WHAT THE HELL, Cisco?? Really? What.the.hell.
Karma bites hard. I did a somewhat-bad thing, and had the same thing happen to me in return. On the same trip.
Sparky ended up at the hospital, briefly (for a chest X-ray), while we were gone. FIL, however, had no problems whatsoever. Of course, we had prepared for the precise opposite, and didn't even leave Sparky's insurance info with either of them. Sparky's fine, just had a bad chest cold that caused him to have trouble breathing in gym class one day, and to miss one other day of school.
Speaking of my brilliant son who has 5 AP classes under his belt...he missed the deadline for signing up to take the AP tests for those classes. I have, so far, restrained myself from punching him in the head.
So yeah, the week before we left on vacation, I had a kidney stone problem. The follow-up visit to the doctor resulted in the news that I should probably try to drink more than 2 liters of water (liquids in general) per day. Two liters. That's a LOT of peeing!
No, I did not follow those directions in Europe. Give me a break.
I am tired of saying, "No, not that wedding." But I will probably watch some of that wedding.
"Gelato!" and "Room 4-4-6" will always remind me of Florence.
It was warmer in England the days we were there than it was in Italy. That, my friends, is weird. I about died of heat prostration at the wedding reception.
With the exception of tram, I think we road on every available sort of transportation available in the past week. Well, not city-bus-route buses or bicycles, either. Planes, trains, automobiles, taxis, coaches, subways...and then there is walking, too.
I will upload pictures tonight. Unless I end up needing to iron, in which case, I will upload pictures...this weekend.
Had my annual review yesterday. She likes me. I'm one of those who actually gets a (pathetic) raise this year. Have bitten off far more than I'll be able to chew for the upcoming year. Ugh.
My brand-new (to me) car is back at Carmax having its CD player replaced. For free. I had to drive the hour to S-burg yesterday and leave it there. I'm currently driving a red car with a spoiler and a sunroof. Sport-tay! Too bad it's rain-rain-rain all the time and I probably won't get to use the sunroof. I have to go back and get my real car over the weekend.
Before we left town, our washing machine had started making thumping and jet-taking-off sounds. We knew we'd have to have a new one--repairing the old one would have cost the same as buying new. By the time we got home, the spin-cycle wasn't removing any water from clothes, so Beast took our dirty vacation clothes to a laundromat Tuesday once he established that it took three drying cycles to get sheets to moist.
Consequently, last night we hit Best Buy for a new washer and brought home the floor model which is now in our basement. If you want pictures, it's more-or-less this one.
Being a grown-up is really BOR-ING sometimes!
In case anyone is going to England, "The Slug and Lettuce," while a catchy/cutesy name for a pub, is only a cover for being a Ruby Tuesday. Yes. We got suckered into that one. Still, astoundingly tasty nachos...for England.
OK, so work. I need to go. More prose, less of the bullet-style ... eventually.

Poetry Month

2011-04-28T00:01:00.004-05:00

Gnosis
by Theodore Worozbyt

Turns out the radiologist didn't know thing one about radios. I stood there in my stocking feet and waited for the music to begin again. Being generally good with small motors I would mow and mow the lawn stoically with a white hand towel draped around my neck. I was stimulated by the reports of the optical scienteers. Because of the particular reflective and refractive qualities inherent in the molecular structure of the chlorophyll molecule, the wavelength perceived by the human eye as green is in fact repulsed by grass. Thus grass is all other colors. Impossible, impossible! was the catarrh violently discharging itself in the chambers of my thoughts. Grass and vert are green. Reading is black surrounded by white. If not, what? A barely perceptible hum underfoot that turns out to be electricity or some other invisible fluid? A basket heaped with unadjusted watches? The forests filled with white tigers. Fire came from god's beard. The sun rolled, a chariot wheel flaring its treads across the clouds. Starlight: angelic punctuation on the carbon paper of midnight. New York City sewers crawled with titanic alligators before debunkers in rubber boots stepped in. President Somebody was smoking an Egyptian cigarette and several papers didn't get signed before the prognosis began to resemble a trumpet: something gold around a hole.

Poetry Month

2011-04-27T00:01:00.001-05:00

The Broken Sandal
by Denise Levertov

Dreamed the thong of my sandal broke.
Nothing to hold it to my foot.
How shall I walk?
         Barefoot?
The sharp stones, the dirt. I would
hobble.
And– 
Where was I going?
Where was I going I can't
go to now, unless hurting?
Where am I standing, if I'm
to stand still now?

Poetry Month

2011-04-26T00:01:00.004-05:00

To Helen
by Edgar Allan Poe

Helen, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicean barks of yore,
That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,
The weary, way-worn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.

On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece.
And the grandeur that was Rome.

Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche
How statue-like I see thee stand!
The agate lamp within thy hand,
Ah! Psyche from the regions which
Are Holy Land!

Poetry Month

2011-04-25T19:57:00.001-05:00

A Well-Traveled Coyote
by Nora Naranjo-Morse

John F. Kennedy
        New York City
            I saw him across the lobby
                 flight 161
                     St. Louis
                         Albuquerque.
Coyote looked in control
        cool
             fitting right into the city
                 smiling when a pretty woman passed him
                     figuring out his flight
                          making calculations from behind
                              the New York Times.
Slick
         right down to his Tony Lamas
             Coyote
                 I’d recognize him anywhere
                     Copenhagen
                          New York
                              Gallup.
People say
you can dress ’em up
        but once a coyote
             always a coyote.

Poetry Month

2011-04-24T00:01:00.001-05:00

Paschal
by Robert Pinsky

Easter was the old North   
Goddess of the dawn.   
She rises daily in the East   
And yearly in spring for the great   

Paschal candle of the sun.   
Her name lingers like a spot   
Of gravy in the figured vestment   
Of the language of the Britains.   

Her totem the randy bunny.   
Our very Thursdays and Wednesdays   
Are stained by syllables of thunder   
And Woden's frenzy.   

O my fellow-patriots loyal to this   
Our modern world of high heels,   
Vaccination, brain surgery—   
May they pass over us, the old   

Jovial raptors, Apollonian flayers,   
Embodiments. Egg-hunt,   
Crucifixion. Supper of encrypted   
Dishes: bitter, unrisen, a platter   

Compass of martyrdom,   
Ground-up apples and walnuts   
In sweet wine to embody mortar   
Of affliction, babies for bricks.   

Legible traces of the species   
That devises the angel of death   
Sailing over our doorpost   
Smeared with sacrifice.

Poetry Month

2011-04-23T00:01:00.000-05:00

I Married You
by Linda Pastan

I married you
for all the wrong reasons,
charmed by your 
dangerous family history,
by the innocent muscles, bulging
like hidden weapons 
under your shirt,
by your naive ties, the colors
of painted scraps of sunset.

I was charmed too
by your assumptions
about me: my serenity—
that mirror waiting to be cracked,
my flashy acrobatics with knives
in the kitchen.
How wrong we both were
about each other,
and how happy we have been.

Poetry Month

2011-04-22T00:01:00.002-05:00

sisters
by Lucille Clifton

me and you be sisters.
we be the same.

me and you
coming from the same place.

me and you
be greasing our legs
touching up our edges.

me and you
be scared of rats
be stepping on roaches.

me and you
come running high down purdy street one time
and mama laugh and shake her head at
me and you.

me and you
got babies
got thirty-five
got black
let our hair go back
be loving ourselves
be loving ourselves
be sisters.

only where you sing,
I poet.

Poetry Month

2011-04-21T00:01:00.001-05:00

Notes on the Spring Holidays, III, [Hanukkah]
by Charles Reznikoff

III
Hanukkah

In a world where each man must be of use
and each thing useful, the rebellious Jews
light not one light but eight—
not to see by but to look at.

Testing

2011-04-20T11:41:00.000-05:00

I am actually typing this on my Nook from our hotel room on our last night in Italy. I love my Nook! Though I will say it's not very easy to type on.

I will have much to say when I get home and have a proper keyboard instead of a touchy touchscreen on which to type. Ciao!

Poetry Month

2011-04-20T00:01:00.001-05:00

On Gifts For Grace
by Bernadette Mayer

I saw a great teapot
I wanted to get you this stupendous
100% cotton royal blue and black checked shirt,
There was a red and black striped one too
Then I saw these boots at a place called Chuckles
They laced up to about two inches above your ankles
All leather and in red, black or purple
It was hard to have no money today
I won't even speak about the possible flowers and kinds of lingerie
All linen and silk with not-yet-perfumed laces
Brilliant enough for any of the Graces
Full of luxury, grace notes, prosperousness and charm
But I can only praise you with this poem—
Its being is the same as the meaning of your name

Poetry Month

2011-04-19T20:59:00.002-05:00

How to Uproot a Tree
by Jennifer K. Sweeney

Stupidity helps.
Naiveté that your hands will undo
what does perfectly without you.
My husband and I made the decision
not to stop until the task was done,
the small anemic tree made room
for something prettier.
We’d pulled before, pale hand over wide hand,
a marriage of pulling toward us what we wanted,
pushing away what we did not.
We had a shovel which was mostly for show.
It was mostly our fingers tunneling the dirt
toward a tangle of false beginnings.
The roots were branched and bearded,
some had spurs
and one of them was wholly reptilian.
They had been where we had not
and held a knit gravity
that was not in their will to let go.
We bent the trunk to the ground and sat on it,
twisted from all angles.
How like ropes it was,
the sickly thing asserting its will
only now at the end,
blind but beyond
the idea of leaving the earth.

Poetry Month

2011-04-18T00:01:00.001-05:00

Prayer for Sleep
by Cheryl Dumesnil

The chiropractor sent me home
     with my left ankle taped, my neck
          cracked, and instructions not to sleep

on my belly, so when it came time
     for bed, I dropped a tequila shot,
          laid back and closed my lids, entrails

exposed to vultures of bad dreams.
     From the neighboring pillow,
          my love whispered theories

of meditation, biofeedback, post-
     traumatic stress, and prayer. When
          she asked, "If a divine creator

made the universe, who made
     the divine creator?" I mumbled,
          "Are you trying to talk me to sleep?"

She smiled, then babbled
     past midnight, contemplating out loud
          the metaphysics of leaf production,

the wonder of molecules
     that make up our bed, the web
          of my cell structure connected

to hers, until I fell asleep,
     imagining the mitochondria
          of words, thinking, if god is

love, let me sleep to this sound of her voice.

Poetry Month

2011-04-17T00:01:00.000-05:00

A Practical Mom
By Amy Uyematsu

can go to Bible study every Sunday
and swear she’s still not convinced,
but she likes to be around people who are.
We have the same conversation
every few years—I’ll ask her if she stops
to admire the perfect leaves
of the Japanese maple
she waters in her backyard,
or tell her how I can gaze for hours
at a desert sky and know this
as divine. Nature, she says,
doesn’t hold her interest. Not nearly
as much as the greens, pinks, and grays
of a Diebenkorn abstract, or the antique
Tiffany lamp she finds in San Francisco.
She spends hours with her vegetables,
tasting the tomatoes she’s picked that morning
or checking to see which radishes are big enough to pull.
Lately everything she touches bears fruit,
from new-green string beans to winning
golf strokes, glamorous hats she designs and sews,
soaring stocks with their multiplying shares.
These are the things she can count in her hands,
the tangibles to feed and pass on to daughters
and grandchildren who can’t keep up with all
the risky numbers she depends on, the blood-sugar counts
and daily insulin injections, the monthly tests
of precancerous cells in her liver and lungs.
She’s a mathematical wonder with so many calculations
kept alive in her head, adding and subtracting
when everyone else is asleep.

Poetry Month

2011-04-16T00:01:00.004-05:00

Six Words
by Lloyd Schwartz

yes
no
maybe
sometimes
always
never

Never?
Yes.
Always?
No.
Sometimes?
Maybe—

maybe
never
sometimes.
Yes—
no
always:

always
maybe.
No—
never
yes.
Sometimes,

sometimes
(always)
yes.
Maybe
never . . .
No,

no—
sometimes.
Never.
Always?
Maybe.
Yes—

yes no
maybe sometimes
always never.

Poetry Month

2011-04-15T00:01:00.011-05:00

Passing Through
by Stanley Kunitz

   —on my seventy-ninth birthday

Nobody in the widow’s household   
ever celebrated anniversaries.   
In the secrecy of my room
I would not admit I cared
that my friends were given parties.   
Before I left town for school
my birthday went up in smoke   
in a fire at City Hall that gutted   
the Department of Vital Statistics.   
If it weren’t for a census report   
of a five-year-old White Male   
sharing my mother’s address
at the Green Street tenement in Worcester   
I’d have no documentary proof   
that I exist. You are the first,   
my dear, to bully me
into these festive occasions.

Sometimes, you say, I wear
an abstracted look that drives you   
up the wall, as though it signified   
distress or disaffection.
Don’t take it so to heart.
Maybe I enjoy not-being as much   
as being who I am. Maybe
it’s time for me to practice
growing old. The way I look
at it, I’m passing through a phase:   
gradually I’m changing to a word.   
Whatever you choose to claim   
of me is always yours;
nothing is truly mine
except my name. I only
borrowed this dust.

Poetry Month

2011-04-14T00:01:00.001-05:00

To My Dear and Loving Husband
by Anne Bradstreet

If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me ye women if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold,
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee give recompense.
Thy love is such I can no way repay; 
The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.
Then while we live, in love let's so persever,
That when we live no more we may live ever.

Poetry Month

2011-04-13T00:01:00.001-05:00

In the Memphis Airport
by Timothy Steele

Above the concourse, from a beam,
A little warbler pours forth song.
Beneath him, hurried humans stream:
Some draw wheeled suitcases along
Or from a beeping belt or purse
Apply a cell phone to an ear;
Some pause at banks of monitors
Where times and gates for flights appear.

Although by nature flight-endowed,
He seems too gentle to reproach
These souls who soon will climb through cloud
In first class, business class, and coach.
He may feel that it's his mistake
He’s here, but someone ought to bring
A net to catch and help him make
His own connections north to spring.

He cheeps and trills on, swift and sweet,
Though no one outside hears his strains.
There, telescopic tunnels greet
The cheeks of their arriving planes;
A ground crew welcomes and assists
Luggage that skycaps, treating bags
Like careful ornithologists,
Banded with destination tags.

Vacation Anticipation

2011-04-12T10:21:00.000-05:00

From as far back as I can remember, my primary reaction to news that we're going on vacation has been WILD EXCITEMENT. I capitalize that because there is nothing small about the way I react to the news or the the thought of traveling. I really do love hitting the road, or the skies, and seeing something that I don't see every day.

When I was a kid, this was 95% pure joy. The only negatives to travel for me were carsickness and not always enjoying the trip as much as the arrival and the new things to do. We drove LOTS of miles for vacations, sometimes (often) through monotonous landscape on two-lane roads in cars that my dad picked out for his comfort and/or practical use, and he rarely stopped for any reason. Flying places was much more fun--motion sickness didn't bother on planes and there was the whole fun and bustle of the airport on either side of the trip.

Now that I'm grownup, I still get VERY EXCITED, but every trip I take has an added edge of anxiety. Sometimes, that builds to the point of complete and utter panic. I'm about, oh, 10 deep breaths away from panic right now. I remember one vacation we went on about 13 years ago--no idea where we were going, that time--where I fully broke down in sobs in the living room of our prior house the morning we were due to leave. Why? Because I wasn't going to get the house cleaned up. Beast was confused about the whole scenario, and realistically, the house was ONLY going to get dusty again while we were gone, so why did it have to be spotless when we left?

I don't know.

I still don't know.

Except my mom always did the same thing, and you have to admit that the last thing you want to see when you walk into your home after two weeks away is dirty dishes, laundry piled everywhere, and no sheets on the bed. Right?

This trip has a lot of other stressors beyond the usual travel hassles--yeah, airports? Not at all fun anymore, although at least we get to be in the Red Carpet Club today for our wait--and the obsession I tend to have about getting from place to place once we land, etc. For one thing, the last time I flew overseas was last August for my sister's funeral, which was too quick of a trip to get overly obsessed about anything, but which has left a certain bizarre dead feeling about the airport experience; by 'dead' I mean I don't remember much about the airports OR flight, like I totally zombied out.

Another stress is that this is the first trip we've taken that has left Sparky behind at home. He has left us behind twice as he has traveled overseas, but for some reason I'm wigging out much more than I did on those trips. He won't be alone, which would have been fine from the taking care of himself standpoint, but now that we're on the verge of leaving, I know I'd have been DefCon5 for at least a week now about it. I cried when he left for school this morning. I'm tearing up like mad now. I expect I will cry when we leave for the airport, AND when we liftoff later this afternoon.

More stress is that we will not reach our final stop at the hotel till about this time tomorrow. We have a 6-hour layover in London--not worrying about that--and we will be T I R E D when we finally land in Rome and then have to go through customs, again, and find our suitcase and then a cab. I worry because I picked the hotels in Rome and Florence, and what if they suck?

Once we're there, I know I'll be fine. Hell, once we're over the Atlantic I'll be fine, back to excited-only.

So. That's where I am.

Poetry Month

2011-04-12T00:01:00.000-05:00

Rumpelstiltskin
by Glyn Maxwell

‘Your name is Rumpelstiltskin!’ cried
The Queen. ‘It’s not,’ he lied. ‘I lied
The time you heard me say it was.’
‘I never heard you. It’s a guess,’

She lied. He lied: ‘My name is Zed.’
She told the truth: ‘You’re turning red,
Zed.’ He said: ‘That’s not my name!’
‘You’re turning red though, all the same.’

‘Liar!’ he cried: ‘I’m turning blue.’
And this was absolutely true.
And then he tore himself in two,
As liars tend to have to do.

In passing

2011-04-11T10:43:00.001-05:00

Received a link to the Pierley/Redford Dissociative Affect Test in my email this morning courtesy of VSL. Couldn't pass up the chance to take it and the results are as weird/creepy as the questions:

Verbally and mentally fluid, you are refreshing and illuminating to those around you. This is occasionally somewhat discounted by the obvious pleasure that you take in exercising your mental acuity. Although generally peaceful you can often take a verbally aggressive tact in relations with the world, which can often be misunderstood by those around you. Innovative in the extreme, you can often think yourself right out of the correct answer to a given problem. Many times you are referred to as your own worst enemy. You tire very quickly of routine and so make poor clerks or administrative help. You also have no respect for authority and little patience for those you regard as inferior, most especially those in charge. Experimentation is your watchword and can occasionally lead to experience for its own sake and shallow decadence. Your thought can sometimes be scattered and disconnected.

I'm not even going to do my usual italicizing to show what I think is accurate in this result, but it's a little freakish. I sound a bit like a Nazi hedonist, or Ayn Rand, both options being entirely NOT what I want to be. Unfortunately, there is a lot here that is also pretty accurate.

Maybe if I take this test again after vacation, it'll be more realistic and I'll appreciate the results more.

Poetry Month

2011-04-11T00:01:00.002-05:00

What Was Told, That
by Jalalu'l-din Rumi 
translated by Coleman Barks

What was said to the rose that made it open was said
to me here in my chest. 

What was told the cypress that made it strong
and straight, what was

whispered the jasmine so it is what it is, whatever made
sugarcane sweet, whatever

was said to the inhabitants of the town of Chigil in
Turkestan that makes them

so handsome, whatever lets the pomegranate flower blush
like a human face, that is

being said to me now. I blush. Whatever put eloquence in
language, that's happening here.

The great warehouse doors open; I fill with gratitude,
chewing a piece of sugarcane, 

in love with the one to whom every that belongs!

Peregrinations

2011-04-10T06:49:00.000-05:00

As promised, here's the program for the next few weeks for us.

Beast's brother is arriving at some point today so that he is in the area in case there is a problem with FIL while we're gone. BIL and Sparky will be baching it, which isn't all that terrifying; should be an interesting couple of weeks for Sparky. And BIL.

About the trip itself, we leave Tuesday afternoon for London, arriving there at 6 a.m. local time. We have a full 6 hours to make it through customs, find and buy tickets for the following week's bus trip to Leicester, go back through security for Alitalia and find our flight to Rome. I don't really expect any of that to be difficult.

We arrive in Rome at about 3:30 local time. Allowing time for customs, again, and all the rest of the arrival things, I'm hoping to be at the hotel (Starhotel Michelangelo) by 6 or so. We'll probably have a lovely early-for-Italy dinner and crash and burn, although maybe not. It will feel like early afternoon for us. Maybe we'll walk around to the Trevi to tire ourselves out enough to sleep; it's supposed to be lovely at night.

We'll be in Rome till the 16th when we'll take the train up to Florence for the next few nights. We'll stay in Florence at the Hotel California (I am not kidding), very near the Duomo and pretty much everything else worth seeing. We'll be there till the 20th when we take the train back to Rome and make our way to an airport hotel.

The next day, April 21, we head back to London, arriving at about 3:45 local time. The bus will take us north to Leicester where we will somehow end up at our hotel there. The wedding is at the town hall near the hotel, the reception is about a block from the hotel, and the train station is around the corner. That is quite handy because on Easter Sunday we will be taking the train from Leicester back to London St. Pancras where we'll either use the tube or catch a cab to the Hotel Indigo chosen for two reasons: it's free using Beast's hotel points, and it's near Paddington station where we will catch the tube to Heathrow the next day. I've never stayed near near Hyde Park and Regent Park, so that will be fun.

Our flight leaves Heathrow at 4:20 p.m. and we have to fly to Washington Dulles and change planes. We arrive there at about 7:30 p.m., go through customs, etc., and then back through security to catch our flight home at 10 which dumps us out at our home airport by 11:30. We'll be scheduling a limo to drive us home because Beast's brother plans to hit the road back to NYC as soon as he knows we've made it to Washington.

Poetry Month

2011-04-10T00:01:00.000-05:00

A Refusal to Mourn the Death, by Fire, of a Child in London
by Dylan Thomas

Never until the mankind making
Bird beast and flower
Fathering and all humbling darkness
Tells with silence the last light breaking 
And the still hour
Is come of the sea tumbling in harness

And I must enter again the round
Zion of the water bead
And the synagogue of the ear of corn
Shall I let pray the shadow of a sound
Or sow my salt seed
In the least valley of sackcloth to mourn

The majesty and burning of the child's death.
I shall not murder
The mankind of her going with a grave truth
Nor blaspheme down the stations of the breath
With any further 
Elegy of innocence and youth.

Deep with the first dead lies London's daughter,
Robed in the long friends,
The grains beyond age, the dark veins of her mother,
Secret by the unmourning water
Of the riding Thames.
After the first death, there is no other.

{{gasp!}} An actual post!

2011-04-09T20:43:00.000-05:00

Yes, it's true, I'm feeling moved to blog for realz. Mostly because I've actually been working my ass off (I wish) for a few days, trying to get ready to leave on our trip on Tuesday.

In line with this push is a renewed, or even new, effort to keep up on things around here: bills/receipts (entering them into Quicken), planning and making actual meals, generally not sitting around on my ass (see above). Sparky and I switched jobs a week or so ago so he is no longer in charge of dishes but has taken responsibility for running Roomba around the house as needed. I expect the novelty of that will wear off fairly quickly, but it is nice that I'm not nagging him about the dishes on the counter--I just take care of it myself. So there.

He is hours, maybe a day, away from finally committing to Pio U for college. We need to send in a deposit and he'll be set. It's nice that Beast and I will know our way around both the campus and the city in which the college is, but it is exTREMEly odd to think that Sparky will be hanging out in some of the same places we did nearly 30 years ago. Thirty years!? O.M.G.

In other news, I established for myself last Monday that kidney stones are pretty fucking painful. I'm still having some minor pain, but nothing -- NOTHING! -- like what I woke up with on Monday!

So I did a whole long blather about our trip at this point, but I'm going to cut that and make a new post of it.

Poetry Month

2011-04-09T00:01:00.000-05:00

Freud
by James Cummins

Come to think of it, I never speak of Mom
much now, though I go on and on about Dad.
My generation's given "Mom" a beating,
I think: there's no son who hasn't got his gun
out for the old dear—the dear in the headlights!
Think it could be, like, you know, like...Freud?

Speaking of beatings, who's taken more than Freud,
lately? From the belly of "The Beast," not Mom's:
Shtand ze kike against zer vall! Aim ze headlights...
But why beat Freud instead of dear old Dad?
Dad's the one who's always pulling out his gun,
longing to give someone a "Christian" beating!

Freud got a few things wrong—that's worth a beating?
Let's whack some Christians instead of poor Freud.
It's clear they understand about "The Gun" –
but what about "The Cave?" No, no, not Mom's—
and let's not even go there about Dad's.
Their zeitgeist is a scramble toward headlights—

figures projected on a wall by headlights—
then, once there, instituting someone's beating.
How do you break it to your "real-life" Dad
that twenty centuries of this schadenfreude
are too much? That this smokescreen called "Mom"
just hides the cave of God-Our-Daddy's gun?

They co-opt Jesus into their hired gun—
that rabble-rousing Jewish kid, with head lice—
then claim he cut this strange deal with his Mom?
And he'll return—to give the "sons" a beating?
No wonder we're devouring poor old Freud!
We'll swallow any tale "revealed" by "Dad."

"I can sell you anything!" My own dad
points his shaking finger like a gun
at me. He wonders who the hell is Freud;
he winks and elbows me about "headlights."
His diaper leaks. His pride takes a beating.
I shoo him off to Florida with "Mom."

Amerika: a graveyard, a Mom-and-Dad
beating. Whistle past. Switch on your headlights.
A gun can be a gun, even for Freud.

Poetry Month

2011-04-08T00:01:00.005-05:00

Dead Brother Super Hero
by Michael Dickman

You don't have to
be afraid
anymore
His super-outfit is made from handfuls of shit and garbage blood and pinned together
   by stars
Flying around
the room
like a mosq-
uito

Drinking all the blood
or whatever we
have

to save us
who

need to be saved


*


I whispered     To the rescue
and sat
on the dead edge
of my bed
all night
and

all morning

My feet did not touch the floor

My heart raced
I counted my breath like small white sheep and pinned my eyes open and stared at the door
Any second now
any second

now


*


He saved my brain
from its burning
building

He stopped and started the bullet it my heart
with his teeth

Just like that
He looked down from outer space through all the clouds, the birds dropping like weights
He looked out
from the center of the earth
through the fire
he was

becoming

He stood in the doorway
and closed his eyes

His cape sweeping the floor

Poetry Month

2011-04-07T00:01:00.000-05:00

Ground Swell  
by Mark Jarman

Is nothing real but when I was fifteen,
Going on sixteen, like a corny song?
I see myself so clearly then, and painfully--
Knees bleeding through my usher's uniform
Behind the candy counter in the theater
After a morning's surfing; paddling frantically
To top the brisk outsiders coming to wreck me,
Trundle me clumsily along the beach floor's
Gravel and sand; my knees aching with salt.
Is that all I have to write about?
You write about the life that's vividest.
And if that is your own, that is your subject.
And if the years before and after sixteen
Are colorless as salt and taste like sand--
Return to those remembered chilly mornings,
The light spreading like a great skin on the water,
And the blue water scalloped with wind-ridges,
And--what was it exactly?--that slow waiting
When, to invigorate yourself, you peed
Inside your bathing suit and felt the warmth
Crawl all around your hips and thighs,
And the first set rolled in and the water level
Rose in expectancy, and the sun struck
The water surface like a brassy palm,
Flat and gonglike, and the wave face formed.
Yes. But that was a summer so removed
In time, so specially peculiar to my life,
Why would I want to write about it again?
There was a day or two when, paddling out,
An older boy who had just graduated
And grown a great blonde moustache, like a walrus,
Skimmed past me like a smooth machine on the water,
And said my name. I was so much younger,
To be identified by one like him--
The easy deference of a kind of god
Who also went to church where I did--made me
Reconsider my worth. I had been noticed.
He soon was a small figure crossing waves,
The shawling crest surrounding him with spray,
Whiter than gull feathers. He had said my name
Without scorn, just with a bit of surprise
To notice me among those trying the big waves
Of the morning break. His name is carved now
On the black wall in Washington, the frozen wave
That grievers cross to find a name or names.
I knew him as I say I knew him, then,
Which wasn't very well. My father preached
His funeral. He came home in a bag
That may have mixed in pieces of his squad.
Yes, I can write about a lot of things
Besides the summer that I turned sixteen.
But that's my ground swell. I must start
Where things began to happen and I knew it.

Poetry Month

2011-04-06T00:01:00.001-05:00

Drench
by Anne Stevenson

You sleep with a dream of summer weather,
wake to the thrum of rain—roped down by rain.
Nothing out there but drop-heavy feathers of grass  
and rainy air. The plastic table on the terrace
has shed three legs on its way to the garden fence.     
The mountains have had the sense to disappear.  
It's the Celtic temperament—wind, then torrents, then remorse.
Glory rising like a curtain over distant water.
Old stonehouse, having steered us through the dark,
docks in a pool of shadow all its own.
That widening crack in the gloom is like good luck.
Luck, which neither you nor tomorrow can depend on.

Poetry Month

2011-04-05T00:01:00.001-05:00

The Anactoria Poem
by Sappho 
edited by Richard Lattimore

Some there are who say that the fairest thing seen 
on the black earth is an array of horsemen;
some, men marching; some would say ships; but I say
          she whom one loves best

is the loveliest. Light were the work to make this 
plain to all, since she, who surpassed in beauty
all mortality, Helen, once forsaking
          her lordly husband,

fled away to Troy--land across the water. 
Not the thought of child nor beloved parents 
was remembered, after the Queen of Cyprus
          won her at first sight.

Since young brides have hearts that can be persuaded 
easily, light things, palpitant to passion
as am I, remembering Anaktória
          who has gone from me

and whose lovely walk and the shining pallor
of her face I would rather see before my 
eyes than Lydia's chariots in all their glory
          armored for battle.

Poetry Month

2011-04-04T00:01:00.005-05:00

Chaplinesque
by Hart Crane

We make our meek adjustments,
Contented with such random consolations
As the wind deposits
In slithered and too ample pockets.

For we can still love the world, who find
A famished kitten on the step, and know
Recesses for it from the fury of the street,
Or warm torn elbow coverts.

We will sidestep, and to the final smirk
Dally the doom of that inevitable thumb
That slowly chafes its puckered index toward us,
Facing the dull squint with what innocence
And what surprise!

And yet these fine collapses are not lies
More than the pirouettes of any pliant cane;
Our obsequies are, in a way, no enterprise.
We can evade you, and all else but the heart:
What blame to us if the heart live on.

The game enforces smirks; but we have seen
The moon in lonely alleys make
A grail of laughter of an empty ash can,
And through all sound of gaiety and quest
Have heard a kitten in the wilderness.

Poetry Month

2011-04-03T00:01:00.002-05:00

How Great My Grief
by Thomas Hardy

How great my grief, my joys how few, 
Since first it was my fate to know thee! 
- Have the slow years not brought to view 
How great my grief, my joys how few, 
Nor memory shaped old times anew, 
    Nor loving-kindness helped to show thee 
How great my grief, my joys how few, 
    Since first it was my fate to know thee?

Poetry Month

2011-04-02T00:01:00.001-05:00

It Was Raining In Delft  
by Peter Gizzi

A cornerstone. Marble pilings. Curbstones and brick. 
I saw rooftops. The sun after a rain shower. 
Liz, there are children in clumsy jackets. Cobblestones 
         and the sun now in a curbside pool. 
I will call in an hour where you are sleeping. I’ve been walking 
         for 7 hrs on yr name day. 
Dead, I am calling you now. 
There are colonnades. Yellow wrappers in the square. 
Just what you’d suspect: a market with flowers and matrons, 
         handbags. 
Beauty walks this world. It ages everything. 
I am far and I am an animal and I am just another I-am poem, 
         a we-see poem, a they-love poem. 
The green. All the different windows. 
There is so much stone here. And grass. So beautiful each 
         translucent electric blade. 
And the noise. Cheers folding into traffic. These things. 
         Things that have been already said many times:
leaf, zipper, sparrow, lintel, scarf, window shade.

Poetry Month

2011-04-01T00:01:00.001-05:00

National Poetry Month
by Elaine Equi

When a poem
speaks by itself,
it has a spark

and can be considered
part of a divine
conversation.

Sometimes the poem weaves
like a basket around
two loaves of yellow bread.

"Break off a piece
of this April with its
raisin nipples," it says. 

"And chew them slowly
under your pillow.
You belong in bed with me."

On the other hand,
when a poem speaks
in the voice of a celebrity

it is called television
or a movie.
"There is nothing to see,"
says Robert De Niro,
though his poem bleeds
all along the edges

like a puddle 
crudely outlined
with yellow tape

at the crime scene
of spring.
"It is an old poem," he adds.

"And besides,
I was very young
when I made it."

Been another long wait

2011-03-26T19:32:00.001-05:00

And yeah, what a month March has been. Short version:

spent a lot of time in hospitals with Beast and FIL on visits planned and unplanned
worked, a lot, at work and at home, on work-related stuff
played mini-golf in the library
got even fatter
wrecked the truck

Now, it looks like my page layout is fucked. Shoot. I should try to figure out why. I seems to only be weird on Chrome. IE looks fine. Sigh.

The main reason I started this post is to warn people that poetry month is coming up, so there will be more regular posts next months. Like, daily.

EDIT: but now the layout is fine. Maybe it's my computer....

Have not posted here in a month?

2011-03-04T07:31:00.001-06:00

Wow. Wish I could say it's cuz I'm doing something exciting, but the best I can say is I'm doing a lot of what's going on in this video, only at work.

I want a divorce...

2011-02-07T17:53:00.002-06:00

...from the Big Metropolis near where I live. Well, only the fans of the football team in that city.

Mostly I want to shove Katherine through a plate glass window on the 38th floor of a building. I think this is the point at which I finally tell her, in reality, to deal with her own life instead of fucking up everyone else's. I really really am done with her selfishness.

Also, FIL is back in the hospital. Long day spent in the ER today, and he's spending the night tonight since they still don't have a clue what's wrong with him.

GO PACK GO!! Superbowl winners again!!

Union

2010-12-29T18:37:00.003-06:00

So yeah: the public works department in my town is unionizing. Part of the reason is because employees have been expected to work weekends as part of their regular schedule for the past year or so.

Excuuuuse the fuck outta me--WHAT?

I never have like most of those people . . . ok, for the most part, they are guys, so I've never really like those GUYS . . . and this certainly doesn't endear them to me especially since their base pay is $13/hour (according to the article in the notoriously-error-prone local paper). We have people working at the library for under $10/hour. On weekends. And--HORROR of HORRORS!!--evenings.

I have no issue with unions, except in this case where, if they had been paying attention, these guys would be aware of the reasoning for the decisions the city has been making. I don't agree 100% with all of the decisions the city has made, but unionizing so you can get a raise (that the city doesn't have money for) or because you, poor baby, have to work rotational Saturday or Sundays in the current economy is just ridiculous.

The city has bent over backwards to keep as many of them on the books as possible by finding work for them to do in various city buildings (cleaning windows, mowing lawns, painting, shoveling snow, etc.), and these guys want not only their cushy 9-4:30 hours but also all the positions to continue to be fully staffed. So, basically, if they get their way, the rest of the city employees will have to bear the brunt of their greed, since the non-existent money for raises and overtime pay for them will have to come out of other city department budgets.

There are a few of these guys doing some work in the library next week. I will be hard-pressed to be civil to them. The city shoulda just fired 1/3 of them last year.

Bad Reader

2010-12-15T20:55:00.000-06:00

I found this at Lazygal's blog:

The top 20 book club bestsellers for 2010 from Bookmovement.com [her link--but I ended up actually finding the list here] based on readers' choices are:

The Help by Kathryn Stockett
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson
Sarah's Key by Tatiana de Rosnay
Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Jamie Ford
The Next Thing on My List by Jill Smolinski
Little Bee by Chris Cleave
A Reliable Wife by Robert Goolrick
Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout
Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows
Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen
The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein
Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
The Glass Castle: A Memoir by Jeannette Walls
The Wednesday Sisters by Meg Waite Clayton
The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery
The 19th Wife by David Ebershoff
The Forgotten Garden by Kate Morton
Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson

Of those, I've read only the last one on the list. There are, perhaps, two or three others I wouldn't mind looking at. The others? Meh. I think it's official: I'm jaded about (ahem) "literary" fiction.

Bad Day

2010-11-23T19:12:00.001-06:00

I haven't been this wigged out about life in general for...well, 7 months. Why? I have no idea really, except that there's a lot going on, but that's true all the time. And I've dropped a lot of balls. I'm tired. Beast is tired. I don't give a shit about much of anything at this point, and I don't care that I don't care, except that I feel like I ought to. Not that I'm beating myself up about it, but it concerns me that I really want to punt about 10% of my immediate (biological) family into space more than I care about what Thursday's schedule looks like.

Oh, well, I'm sure I'll get over it.

Weird Day

2010-11-22T21:11:00.000-06:00

Woke up to rain, and thunder and lightning. When I left the house, it smelled and felt like spring--yes there IS a difference between spring rain and autumn rain--but the sun was out. By 11 it was back to full cloud cover. And a tornado watch.

Took a nap and woke to find out that there had been a tornado sighted within 15 miles of us, and one that touched down about an hour east of us.

Just now checked Facebook and found out that my coworker's baby has arrived. No further details yet--just a note from baby's uncle and rumors from another coworker. Still. Yay!

More yay that FIL is getting out of the hospital tomorrow, unless things fall apart again.

And in spite of the cancelled trip East for Beast (ahem), the condo may be on the verge of being sold. So, three yays and a lot of WTF.

Today

2010-11-21T21:44:00.000-06:00

Beast forgot to turn on his alarm today so got up an hour late
The plan was for him to make the 7-hour drive to his parents' condo this afternoon to get it on the market (finally) this week
Sparky played bass in the praise band at church for the first time
Sparky was also nominated to be a youth elder (quite the oxymoron there) today
I got to play with a baby during the sermon. Babies like this one are easy: all I had to do to keep her quiet was wiggle my fingers--nonstop--at her, thus calming her parents down
I have no idea what the majority of the sermon was about, but I'm still humming the songs
Our church packed 400 boxes for Christmas Child this year. That's 1/3 of what we did in our first ten years!
I worked from 12 till 5:15. Not a horrible Sunday, and there were no childbirth emergencies in the course of things. Which is a good thing, though I think Mom is ready to have the freakin' baby already.
FIL ended up in the ER. Beast bagged the drive back East to sit with him all afternoon. FIL has been admitted due to a high potassium level, a weird-looking bump on his leg, and with 20 extra lbs. of water weight since he left dialysis on Friday. Not sure what's going on.
Youth group was fun, if weird. I was the only grownup there. Thank God they are good kids.
Beast has bagged the whole trip. He doesn't want to leave town with his dad in the hospital. He has a good lead on someone interested in the condo, so his aunt is going to do a showing tomorrow and then he will know whether to call the real estate agent or not.
This house is so not-clean. It's gonna take hours to get things sorted out before Thanksgiving. I should probably be working on that now. Hah!
Everyone in this house is fucking EXHAUSTED.

Oh for cryin' out loud!

2010-11-16T18:44:00.000-06:00

First, Sparky forgets my birthday last week.

Now, tonight, he has arrived home having stopped for a scheduled haircut...with no hair left. He wants to "look like Chris O'Donnell." Well, except he's blond and 40, and you're a redhead and 17.

His hair was gorgeous and styled really well since he got the 10" cut off in July. I'm crushed. He looks like he's going into the Army tomorrow.

Happy Birthday indeed!

2010-11-13T10:24:00.000-06:00

This is my best birthday present EVER!!!

Myanmar Frees Democracy Icon Suu Kyi:
YANGON - Myanmar's democracy leader Aung San Suu Kyi walked free Saturday after seven years as a prisoner in her own home, calling on a sea of jubilant supporters to unite in the face of repression.
Waving and smiling, the Nobel Peace Prize winner appeared outside the crumbling lakeside mansion where she had been locked up by the military rulers, to huge cheers and clapping from the waiting crowds.
read more

Abdicate

2010-11-09T19:28:00.006-06:00

As usual, my family is proving to be much more lovable in theory and at a distance. My sister is due to arrive in the area the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. She and Jan will be staying with their daughter (my niece Katherine) and her (long-suffering) husband, Alan. We have hosted Thanksgiving dinner for the majority of the past 8 years. Katherine and Alan, Alan's mother and step-dad, and my two nephews (another branch of my family) have been the usual contingent, along with FIL the last few years. And Amy, if she's willing to tolerate my family's insanity. My assumption--uh-oh, right?--was that I'd do the usual thing this year again, with Jan and Marie added to the crowd. So I ordered a fresh turkey. We're all good to let the festivities commence.

Then Katherine decided she wanted to do Thanksgiving at her house for Alan's family. Because, after all, Mom will be there to help (i.e., do all the planning and work).

Except that's not going to work because ... I don't really know why. So then the plan was to host everyone from Jan's family (he grew up in this area and his sisters and their families still live here), and us.

Keep in mind that if there are more than 8 people in their living room, we will have to go outside to change our minds. It's a teeny-tiny house. With fucking long-haired cats in it, to boot. {{aah-CHOO}}

Katherine works Friday morning and Saturday morning. I work Friday all day. The backup plan my sister has hatched is to have a leftovers kind of meal on Saturday afternoon at our house. Uh, no. See above re turkey, all 20 lbs. of it.

By the way, no one has mentioned any of this hullabaloo to my nephews to find out if they want to come on a weekend instead of Thursday. And, oh, yeah, FIL is falling through the cracks a bit here. [I couldn't really care less about Alan's mom and stepdad.]

Here's the email I just sent Marie and Katherine:

I'm not sure how this is all going to work, honestly. I need to check in with [Beast] yet, since he has not yet returned after his dad's surgery, but just so everyone knows, I have pre-ordered a turkey, so "just leftovers" on Saturday isn't going to work for us. I actually don't mind cooking the whole meal; it's the one time each year I make a big deal in the kitchen.

It seems that everyone's schedule is completely incongruent with other people's. [Beast] will be out of town earlier the week of Thanksgiving and may be traveling other weeks too. One of my coworkers will be on maternity leave starting any day and that means that I will need to pull extra hours if I have any chance at all of keeping my head above water. And we're doing fundraisers at church for youth group.

As for my schedule at this point, I work [weekdays]. I also work Sat 12/9. I put in a few hours every Monday morning at [Sparky]'s school library as well. We will be taking the youth group kids [shopping in the Big City] on Sunday 12/5, and I'm sure the bell choir will be playing on 12/12 for music Sunday. Those are the definite dates. I think we'll be doing fundraiser stuff at a lock-in at church on 12/10. Maybe. We might be able to push it off till the following weekend if necessary.

OK, I'm off to figure out something for [Sparky] and me to eat while [Beast] cools his heels at CVS with everyone else who needs scrips filled tonight.

Do I sound a right bitch? Well, fuck: I don't care. I'm so very tired of people just assuming that my time is infinitely juggle-able. It's not. I'd love to be able to drop everything and reschedule because of other people's emergencies* or brainstorms, but I just can't. Things are literally cram-jammed into a general semblance of coherence that is frequently upset by our own personal "course-corrections." Like FIL's surgery. Sparky's work schedule. Car problems.

Gah. I want my private island now. Me, my nephews, Amy, Jenny, FIL, and my own household. That's ALL! Oh, and any of my blog friends. And if that makes me Queen Bitch, so be it.
______________
* My attitude was not helped in any way earlier today by having to cover for the sudden departure from work of Miss W. for an emergency. Her grandson fell and banged himself up. She had to go hold her daughter's hand. How the hell did I survive Sparky's childhood without any local hand-holders besides Beast? I mean, really.

Words

2010-11-04T06:31:00.001-05:00

Hey, folks--specifically writing folks--just a tip: neither enervate nor enormity mean what you (apparently) think they do. The latter, especially, is on the verge of changing meaning because of current usage, and that's a shame. It's a good word for something we need a good word for, especially in the current economic and political climate.

Jus' sayin'.

[Can you tell I've just read both these words in a published-on-paper environment, and it was the straw on this camel's back?]

Giggles

2010-10-31T19:40:00.000-05:00

This ad makes me guffaw. Every time I see it:

Yes, I'm aware that I'm a HUGE dork.

The weird things that are exciting to me

2010-10-30T13:21:00.000-05:00

A typos generator.

Because there's just never an end to the fun. Here are some of the dozens of ways we can mis-type |vFiction:

vFiction
|Fiction
|viction
|vFction
|vFition
|vFicion
|vFicton
|vFictin
|vFictio
||vFiction
|vvFiction
|vFFiction
|vFiiction
|vFicction
|vFicttion
|vFictiion
|vFictioon
|vFictionn
v|Fiction
|Fviction
|viFction
|vFcition
|vFitcion
|vFiciton
|vFictoin
|vFictino
|cFiction
|fFiction
|gFiction
|vFidtion
|vFiftion
|vFivtion
|vFicrion
|vFic5ion
|vFic6ion
|vFicyion
|vFichion
|vFicti9n
|vFicti0n
|vFictipn
|vFictiln
|vFictikn
|vFictiob
|vFictioh
|vFictioj
|vFictiom
|cvFiction
|vcFiction
|fvFiction
|vfFiction
|gvFiction
|vgFiction
|bvFiction
|vbFiction
|vFuiction
|vFiuction
|vF8iction
|vFilction
|vFkiction
|vFikction
|vFjiction
|vFijction
|vFixction
|vFicxtion
|vFidction
|vFicdtion
|vFifction
|vFicftion
|vFivction
|vFicvtion
|vFicrtion
|vFictrion
|vFic5tion
|vFicgtion
|vFictgion
|vFicftion
|vFictfion
|vFictuion
|vFictiuon
|vFict8ion
|vFictiion
|vFictioin
|vFicti9on
|vFictio9n
|vFicti0on
|vFictio0n
|vFictipon
|vFictiopn
|vFictilon
|vFictioln
|vFictionm

I cut about half of the original mistakes when I posted them. And this list doesn't even show the ones where the F isn't capitalized properly! I'm kind of afraid to see how many of these are in our catalog. {{shudder}}

Randomosity

2010-10-28T19:26:00.002-05:00

VERY cool Lighthouse library. It's decided: I want to live in a lighthouse, if I get a crate like this periodically.

Of course, nowadays, this site would work just as well if I were stranded alone with internet access (and no books) for months at a time.

I love this interchange (from here) primarily because I've had very similar ones at work:

Customer: “I need to make a copy of this key because the police need to use this one in an investigation.”
Me: “Ma’am, this key is broken clean in half. I don’t think I can copy this.”
Customer: “Well you see, the police are investigating into the helicopters and I need another key.”
Me: “The helicopters?”
Customer: “Yes, yes. They break into my car.” *picking up a flashlight from the checkout counter* “Oh! I wonder if this flashlight is helicopter proof.”
Me: “Uh…I don’t know to be honest.”
Customer: “Well. The helicopters always make things stop working suddenly.”
(She clicks the flashlight on and off until suddenly it no longer turns on.)
Customer: “Ah, there. Not helicopter proof. They’re in my veins, you know.”

This is a pretty good song. Thanks to Amy for pointing me to the person who found it.

One of my favorite library websites is this one. I've had a couple of these conversations over the years, which is why I frequently say (mostly only in my head), "PEOPLE ARE STUPID."

Fonts are important. The hat says so. Mostly, I just wanted to mention the hat again since I've been reading his blog for almost 6 years now.

And you wonder why librarians are crazy? Well, perhaps you have not been wondering that, but now you know why you should.

It's always great when friends talk turkey to one another in public, especially when one of them is an idiot.

That's all I got right now. Everything in my real life is so chaotic that this is the best I can do in terms of blogging.

Sleep

2010-10-28T06:51:00.000-05:00

For the past month, more or less, I have been having quite a lot of strange dreams. Most of them are at least mildly amusing and weird. Some have been pretty unpleasant--not nightmares, but stuff that isn't really fun.

This morning's was about taking FIL in for tests today (true) and arriving to pick him up from his apartment (not accurate) to find MIL there (clearly not true). And she was caaa-RANK-y. Then she fell and banged her knee so while we were at the hospital for FIL's tests I was going to get her knee x-rayed (no, it's FIL's knee that may need x-rays). Also, I had gone in earlier this week and traded in my truck for a VW minivan (not true--and WTF: minivan?? Not. VW?? Do they still make those minivan/minibus things). And MIL was driving.

I'd like to go back to the bizarro dreams that have no bearing on reality.

I gotta repost this, unattributed and obfuscated

2010-10-23T19:11:00.004-05:00

...and post-dated to protect the author, and me, and people who know both of us.

It's been a M0nday. I just read a fr!end's p0st ab0ut navel-gaz!ng in l!brar!ansh!p, wh!ch included th!s paragraph:
That's an0ther th!ng that w0rks my nerves ab0ut s0me 0f these c0nversat!0ns…the defeat!st att!tude that pe0ple have that the!r j0b sucks/the!r manager sucks/the!r c0-w0rkers suck/the vend0rs suck/EVERYTH!NG SUCKS but the!r hands are t!ed and can't f!x !t and can't leave. S0mething can always be d0ne. 'But...'… N0. But n0th!ng. S0mething can always be d0ne.

Yeah. That. I'm gu!lty 0f it s0met!mes -- we're all human -- but it's s0meth!ng I w0rk t0 av0!d. Because we hates it, 0ur prec!0us.

And then I just had a pr0fess!0nal interact!0n that has me shut in my 0ff!ce l!sten!ng t0 angry mus!c as l0ud as I can just!fy in a l!brary. It b0!ls d0wn t0 th!s:

I d0n't d0 pass!ve-aggress!ve.

I d0n't d0 wh!n!ng.

I als0 d0n't d0 martyrs.

And s0mething can always be d0ne.

S0 e!ther help me f!x it, 0r s!t d0wn and shut up.

N0ne 0f wh!ch I can say 0ut l0ud, s0 I'm g0!ng t0 c0nt!nue w0rk!ng 0n the stuff 0n my t0-d0 l!st, w!th the d00r securely cl0sed, unt!l I d0n't want t0 snarl th0se th!ngs at the next pers0n t0 c0me near me.

OK, then please let me know specifically how we can:

create jobs out of thin air
cure cancer
solve all instances of mental illness
stop wars
raise the dead

While I do actually sympathize with the general sentiment of looking for forward movement and quelling the negative..., yeah, NOT. Anyway, it seems to me that if people "don't do" any of these behaviors or personalities, they've admitted defeat and are therefore saying Nothing Can Be Done with them.

And

Playing music loudly because you're angry? Why, that sounds mighty P-A to this here Mom.
The whole post is whiny.
Martyring yourself by hiding in your office is still being a martyr. Trust me: my family is full of martyrs.

To think I used to like this person....

To think she's in charge of getting information to students. {shudder}

Not Safe for ... well, anywhere public where it could be misinterpreted....

2010-09-25T08:47:00.001-05:00

I promise I will post something for realz today, but I just ran across this and nearly cried and threw up at the same time I was laughing my ass off:

Leave it to the Brits.

The Memes

2010-09-13T21:24:00.000-05:00

Several good memes today in my list, and I have no interest in doing them. Blogging has always been safe for me because I'm careful to stay anonymous, and because I don't making "driving traffic to my blog" my raison d'etre. I like comments as much as anyone, but I'd still write the blog if no one commented. I feel nice and cocooned and safe with my blogs. A few IRL people know about them, some of those people read and others don't, and that's fine.

I know that memes annoy the crap out of some people, so long ago I created a separate site where I can do those to my heart's content and not clutter up my 'regular life' blog with silliness. That's been status quo for 6 years. Yay.

Now, I know I'm under some stress lately. Between work and my extended family, things are a little out of control. There are plenty of other reasons for me to be a little thin-skinned at this particular moment. Add to that my background around the issue of politics and a really stupid meme question yesterday and a perfect storm of ranty responses was created. So, vent, release, move on. It was over. I'm done.

...till someone left me a comment saying I wasn't being nice. I read it at about 7 a.m. today and it has thoroughly raised my blood pressure for the entire day. I'm seriously STILL so angry I could spit at this person. I don't say that lightly--I have never in my life spit on someone, but I would do it today. Perhaps after I beat her senseless with my Mao cap from A Real Communist Country.

At the same time, I know I'm really over-reacting to this. This is not helping me calm down. In fact, that knowledge has added to my anger. I'm furious over this, angry at my niece and my brother, annoyed with my sister, irritated with several situations at work, and ticked off about innumerable little things that aren't as perfect as I'd like. As Beast said, at least I'm not taking it out on him; being this angry with someone I don't even know--who is, naturally enough, from Texas--is probably pretty safe for everyone.

Sigh. Time to sleep. {insert manic laughter here}

Annoyed beyond belief

2010-09-11T18:29:00.001-05:00

One of those days.

+ Being TOLD, not asked, by my boss to make coffee for the volunteers, with the implication being "NOW!" Don't know how the coffeemaker works (which of course I do)? "Read the directions."

+ Apparently, yesterday she told the circ desk staff to take the pot of coffee out to the volunteers once in awhile to refill their cups. Uhm, didja noticed we're stacked 3 patrons deep here? Why don't YOU take the coffeepot out to them? Mind you, these volunteers don't expect this sort of thing and would have been horrified if we'd done it.

+ Hearing a pregnant coworker relate that our boss is pressuring her for firm answers about her schedule following the birth of the baby and return to work after FMLA-time is over. And then saying something to the effect that "I understand that family is important, but so is being professional."

+ Asking the same coworker today if she was going to clean up after a program--one that this coworker had planned and was running. [like, who else would be cleaning it up?]

+ Having another coworker, who doesn't usually work in the afternoon, go gonzo because "the computers are slow!!" Yes, they always are after about 11:30 every DAMN day. Why are you spazzing out about it--we deal with it constantly, so there's no emergency.

+ People who return books--mostly animal training books, but also one law book they 'borrowed' without checking out--that are covered in urine. Probably animal urine. But...who knows. (unfortunately, this happens more often than you'd think)

+ Boss-lady saying, "Well I was going to buy donuts, but I ran out of time" after getting in our way all morning. Any of the times you were wandering from fundraiser to program to program to workroom and back would have been an excellent time to run to the store!

+ Why can't people read directions on cleaning solutions? The stuff we use is CONCENTRATE! It needs to be diluted to use. Leaving a 1/8" slime on the toilet seats "to dry" is stupid and puts us in danger of being sued if someone's ass gets a chemical burn. It took me 5 full minutes to wipe/scrape the gunge off the seat with dry paper towels. Good thing it wasn't an emergency!

+ "[Cat.], come out and help at circ! There's a line!" The two of us trying to work in the workroom fly out there...and find two people patiently waiting. I was out there for less than a minute. Line gone, nobody else around needing help. WTF?

+ Some insect or other bit me on the arm yesterday. Big red owie on my left forearm. Bugs annoy me.

+ Just a note to the general public: JUST BECAUSE YOU LEAVE YOUR MASSIVELY OVERDUE ITEMS IN THE OUTSIDE BOOKDROP DOESN'T MEAN YOU WON'T HAVE TO PAY THE FINES! Even if you wait till closing time. We will be able to figure out who it is that owes $4.90 per item (totaling $29.40) on 4 board books, a DVD and a regular picture book that were due 7 weeks ago. You've received a call, a nice letter, and a not-as-nice certified letter from us. You actually owe almost $40 because we had to send two certified letters because you used your kid's card AND your own, so each card got the extra $5 fee for the letter. Yes, you will still have to pay the fine. Thanks for making us stay till 10 minutes past closing time to find all your fucking paperwork because you're too embarrassed or disorganized to bring your stuff inside.

+ Allergy season sux. My eyes are killing me: dry, itchy, red... Stupid corn!

+ My niece and my brother need to go live on (individual) islands. Alone. With no outside communication. She is unlikely to be invited over more than once a year henceforth, and he's a complete asshole that I don't really care about seeing again either. Neither of them were in my face today, but the past month of dealing with their shit has percolated into a sludge of "I'm so DONE with you after your recent behavior!" in my mind.

I think that's all. I think that's enough. If my boss doesn't settle herself down, though, I'm gonna go apeshit (in my head) and talk to HR. I've played this game before, and I'm NOT playing it again. She's every bit as much an asshat as PsychoBoss in some ways.

Thank God for friends who send consoling emails (even though they had no idea they were consoling), and a husband who asked if I needed a drink when I got home and understands that I really really do NOT want to go out to eat tonight. I just want to drink Stoli, vent on my blog, and sleep. Have done two of the three already. Sleep will be here soon, even if it means that I have to get Beast to club me into unconsciousness.

OK then

2010-08-30T12:07:00.001-05:00

I just got repeatedly flipped off by a LOL who was annoyed because I didn't allow her to cut me off in traffic. She then ended up whizzing past me in the parking lot of the store, and then we walked inside, quite literally, right next to each other...because she race-walked to pass me on her way to the carts.

She looked like a relatively nice woman, too, once she stopped making those Flipping Off Faces. I was pretty proud of myself for not saying anything to her, just smiling a little whenever we crossed paths in the pet section. No, I wasn't stalking her: I was looking for bedding for Ruka.

Take my word: do not mess with "Zetta" and her Volvo.

Neighborhood football

2010-08-29T17:03:00.004-05:00

Something I love, that I never take for granted and intentionally fight for, is that we have a BIG yard that is

w i d e
o p e n

The people behind us also have a pretty big open area across their yard.

So two guys just rang my doorbell--J. who lives behind us and L. who lives next door (JesusGOD they're getting tall!). They're wearing touch-football flags on their waists and J. says, "Can we play football in your yard? There are, like, a ton of guys." L. chimed in with, "Even some high school guys." In response to my raised eyebrows (not too many high school kids around here), he hastily added, "Freshmen in high school."

Of course I said sure. They are asking because Sparky's not outside to "approve" it ... and I suspect they were sent to ask by some adult or another. It looks to me like there are about a dozen kids--probably close to a ton, I guess--and they are supervised by another neighbor so it's not going to turn into a riot.

I really hope that kids continue to play in our yard. I don't ever, EVER want to be the curmudgeon in the neighborhood, the woman who hates kids. Play on, guys!

Contact juggling

2010-08-25T10:46:00.001-05:00

WAY cool:

Your Flag Decal Won't Get You Into Heaven, John Prine

2010-08-24T09:02:00.001-05:00

While digesting Reader’s Digest in the back of a dirty book store
A plastic flag with gum on the back fell out on the floor.
Well,I picked it up and ran outside and slapped it on my windowshield.
And If I could see ol’ Betsy Ross I’d tell her how good I feel.

Chorus:
    But, your flag decal won’t get you into Heaven anymore.
    They’re already overcrowded from your dirty little war.
    Now Jesus don’t like killin’ no matter what the reasons for.
    And your flag decal won’t get you into Heaven anymore.

Well, I went to the bank this morning and the cashier said to me
If you join the Christmas Club we'll give you ten of them flags for free.
I didn’t mess a round a bit I took him up on what he said
And stuck them stickers all over my car and one on my wife’s forehead.

Chorus

Well, I got my windshield so filled with flags I couldn’t see
So I ran my car upside a curb and right into a tree
By the time they got a doctor down I was already dead,
And I’ll never understand why the man standing in the Pearly Gates said…

Chorus

It's good to have friends who don't always agree

2010-08-24T07:06:00.000-05:00

...right?

It's also really hard when a good friend gets 'very verbal' on Facebook with someone in my family. Hard to take sides--although I agree with the family member heaps more than I agree with the friend--since the subject is freedom of speech. I can't, therefore, tell her to shut up on my Facebook wall. Well, ok, I could but she wasn't that vicious, just stupid. OK, I can call her that here since she doesn't know about this blog. She's full of Faux News bullshit and right-wing conservative stoopudutee.

Yes, I have friends like that. Don't you? If not, you should. Always good to have another point of view in the mix, eh?