biblio-ADD and other things

Hello from the land of Burt's Bees Lemon Butter Cuticle Cream. I finally cracked and decided $5.99 for a giant container of lovely smelling cracked-cuticles preventative. We're talking years of ghastly nail care here. I don't require bright, shining, enviable nails, but merely an un-ravaged set. Clean, neat and healthy, or as much as they can be taking into account my daily channeling of anxiety into "evening" them all out. With my teeth.

I'm in Book Purgatory once again and it's a terrible, terrible place to be. M. Rescue me. Somebody! The terrible thought entered my brain the other day that I no longer even like books, that they all suck, a waste of time. I cannot even believe the neurons and synapses conjured that assessment, however brief. But nothing is holding me. For months now, I haven't finished one single thing. The next book club selection, which happens to have a fabulous cover of a women flashing a field of cows - midwestern breast cancer story - turned out to be a self-published abomination wherein the "author" copy/pasted her CaringBridge journal into a single document and called it a book. Reader comments and all. Bah. Everything else, meaning the real books I've checked out from the library to try, have failed to hold me. Too dark, too fluffy, too predictable, too copying of the latest popular thing.

Getmeoutofhere.

And I get that death is a part of life, but lately there seems to be a surrounding wave. Excessive hearse sightings. News of passings-on that have been both expected and not. Two and three degrees away, rather than the usual five or six. I don't know what to make of it all except to take in the beauty of remembrances, grieve with the most closely affected, ponder the great beyond...

***
Okay it's days later and that clearly was the middle of a thought or even a sentence.

I did find a book! That so far I like, maybe 35 or so pages in with no ship-jumping thoughts or anything. Thanks, RHE, for being that engaging of a writer. Your thoughts on Martha Stewart's Housekeeping Handbook alone earn a gold star. I'm on exactly the same page with those daily, weekly, monthly and yearly checklists and am totally living in squalor, too.

I've had "Happy Blog-iversary" in my head since Friday at least. Haaaaaaaaaaaaappy Blog-iversary. Woo! Nine years seems both impossible and completely accurate. I do miss the pre-FB, pre-Pinterest, pre-Tumblr days of blogging, when the writing/content took center stage. Now it's all popping in occasionally whenever we can spare a moment away from the mini-micro blogs that are tweets and FB posts. Onward, as ever, but I'm always given pause by the question of, what did we lose?

Also, if I were to create a pie graph of personal energy spent each day - well maybe I should do that. Graph it. Because maybe I'm not really aware of where it's all going. I suspect stressing over failed expectations? Like I'm not doing enough, ever, or whatever I do accomplish somehow lacks. Which is frustrating because I'm doing the best that I can? And it's not only my voice that I hear putting forth this assessment. And some distant part of me is also aware that were those voices to be silenced, I'd probably a whole lot more energy, even creative energy, to expend.

Moving on from that entirely subjective thought strand, let's wish one fourth of our readership a happy birthday! Yay, AA!

The weather-cooling brought on by the formidable Karen-storm occurred behind schedule but is here at last. Windows are thrown open.
A field trip to the farm tomorrow with a group of tiny people is on tap. (Their parents will all be present, too.)
Yesterday I did a 1-mile walk in the sun to help stop hunger - a much different experience than last year's chilly gray 5K walk. I brought a puppy and a 5-year-old with me, so a mile seemed wise.
Today I folded laundry and made ribbon dancers for my preschoolers while watching ProRun. Queue the Helen Meltdown in 5-4-3... I'm so glad TimGunn told her to suck it up in his TimGunn way. And I love Heidi's charming attempts at Americanisms, like "the dangling sausage," and "hitting it on the nail." Also, some surprisingly kickass looks? I'm a little bored of the whole inevitable duking it out among the lower-ranked, but whatever. Still do NOT agree with the Kate oust... rooting for Dom maybe, ultimately? We'll see.

Ah, behold our blog-look. Behold us! I await the questions from another quarter of our readership. I will make it a point to blog just about BUGS next post.
For now - sleep.
xoxoxo to you,
pen

Dear AA,

I think you're missing my um, broader point about narrative threads and real life- but I totally get you, yes. How do we invest- what are we spending our time on, and for how long. ?

Just now I spent 905 pages of time on a book I mostly loathed. Now I didn't chuck it across the room like I did with 1984 and handmaids tale (canNOT stand post-apocalyptic narratives of facist govt takeovers) but I think i'll probably throw it into the giveaway pile, even if the supercutenewsherlockholmes is playing him in the hbo miniseries. I can only hope they make it better. But the book it was callus, and fragmented narratively, and the characters- not really at all likeable? Somewhat appealing but inaccessible. For instance the main character is referred to as a "meal-sack" throughout and his meaty sausage like hands with his mouth agape. The whole thing agitates me.

Also it was 93 in the house today. i'm acclimating in that I can actually put my hair down. So there is something to not having a/c and letting your body adapt, after ive soaked my feet in cold water and drank 2 cups of iced water. The book, finished with a seriously unsatisfying end. It was gripping in a way, as life just carried on in crisis and the shifts were small but they were happening- but ultimately I wanted to care about the characters and I don't know if I did... hmm we'll see if it becomes forgettable or in a way memorable in how irritating it was- some books don't deserve it but I suppose it's working if your reacting. even if it's a bad reaction. and to think I read this book while playing hardcore on gears of war - I laughed when I set the mode on casual and played it again- how easy it all was... i didn't die over and over and over and actually say to myself, is this game going to beat you? are you giving up? or are you going to learn how to do this BIT better. now i'm super efficient at the torque bow with an xbox controller... but i digress. what's your game mode setting?

Some gamemode settings are on insane and how many of us can really go there? Sometimes, I have glimpses in myself of such courage. I'm acting it out now financially. But in the gameworld I only do that when i'm bored with the maps and the AI enemies- not aggressive enough, die too easily... yawn. Korea was insane mode in some ways too. Other ways pretty casual to normal, as life has to be at times. It's like yah, ok, what ELSE. But i had to start at casual. And then i became bold and went hardcore and now i'm used to that there's no going back to "normal".

And being away a year has given me crazy perspectives on friendships- the ones that have experienced hostile takeovers, long dormant resentments, and my need to be patient about a lot of things and that terminal list- the list itself I indite myself over- blasted projects- never ending. Today my dad came over with Hamlet- love that- to measure cabinets- so that might actually happen? Kitchen renovation. Kind of shocked. My dad did say to my mom that the living room looks like a vampire den. As I said to Pen I can only hold back my gothic and as danica suggested bohemian instincts for so long- and then I'm just seduced by the names too- medieval forest, chianti, black orchid... interestingly one of chi-cathy's favorite words is corridor. Which I love, and will try to work into the map i'm painting in the hallway (polarbear white!) and as that movie with the rabbit suggests, another beautiful word like cellar door... Autumn, today, had never heard of the word roiling. It was used in the context of church of course- it feels roiling. The battle. The tumult. The turbid waters.

Good stuff.

But life- we should try to live it on hardcore mode more often than not I think. Since safety in any sense is mostly wholly fabricated and not actual. Of course I'm biased since I spent a year meditating on what it was to be safe. Literally most everyday calling the word to mind and holding it there with God. So naturally that is my answer to everything- what are you doing? Oh, you don't feel safe. Right that's it. Little M, Little Pen, Little AA- is God holding you safe in his arms?

Besides that lately I am examining God the Father and His love for me. And know my next task is to examine my utter detachment from seeking success or a future or something? Like by gradschool maybe i got a little too esoteric with my whole "it's an end in itself" rhetoric- like maybe i shouldn't have let everyone off the hook so easily- maybe that was me trying to put something insane into a casual setting and confusing what was at stake- i mean i had the right strategy but the execution i think was off... anyway i'm pondering that.

So jejusarah is coming on Monday and I'll have gone to church, and watered my pre-school teachers yard. She's 86. And then it's off to Paramount and who knows what else. Will try not to freak out about how i can't afford gas.

Ok this laptop is raising my coretemperature to critical. I need more icedwater stat.

xo, m.

 

lao-tang,

The puppy sleeps next to me; the pool is being refilled. It's relatively cooler today than usual from storms. Which I love, because the heat can suck it. Yesterday I spent the day cleaning out a craft supply room for church and discussing my new THREE'S classroom, which is going to be completely overhauled before I start in Sept. Which is a good thing: currently, think dingy white paint, old awful yellow trim, out-of-date circus curtains. Lots of clutter. It will be: no curtains, all white trim, wall color TBD. And organized however we say, at least in accordance to the Big Honking Manual I also took home yesterday. Which is simultaneously completely overwhelming to the point of maniacal laughter - all these nitpicky regulations to establish "quality!" Geez. But also kind of helpful to someone such as myself starting completely from scratch. It's a giant Book O' Parameters, with which I can totally deal. And welcome in a lot of ways, because a direction is good, very very good. And later when I've gotten a handle on it all, I'll totally mock its nitpickiness as begged.

I don't know if you're still mad at me, or wounded, or _____. I will say that intent is completely important to me and shouldn't be disregarded. Certainly you must express your hurt feelings and so you have. I take listening prayer and your practice of it seriously enough that I wouldn't pretend to love it or connect with it just to spare your feelings. I appreciate the freedom to not love something and express that, too. My apologies if that manner of expression was hurtful, although it was more a self-mockery or commentary on my own lack of connection. But maybe too flip. I will also put out there as an intending-to-be objective observation that with ministry, perhaps it's important to meet a person on their level, considering personal style, personality type, etc. There is the element of challenging a person to stretch themselves, too. But then, how fine a line is that, particularly when the person is already stretched to the point of snapping anyminutenow. I know you're looking at a different side of the elephant and seeing your own version of truth while I see mine. Maybe yours is more about sharing and opening up when mine is that it's shutting me down. I suppose we either inch toward each other's truths to at least see what the other sees, or we move on to a different creature.

Like books. Did I dust you? When I posted notes for chapter 3, it wasn't to leave anyone out; I sort of just did it to do it and figured there'd be email catchup whenever each person had finished the chapter. Kind of like when we watch ProRun and say okay - read this email full of my commentary after you've watched, too.

Anyway I'm glad it's a Friday with nowhere to be. Tomorrow, earring shopping with K.Lo, who is at her milestone 6 weeks. And an oil change, yawn. Monday, some travel. Which I suppose means Sunday, some packing. Oof. But onto the most pressing item du jour, which is cleaning up the disaster pit down the hall, also known as K.Lo's room.

xoxox

dear melter of smurfs,

Really, what on earth was that gak-like substance melted in your stove? Bet it smelled awesome!

Well so here I am. Right eye twitching and occasionally leaking out the far corner. It's Set Up for Vacation Bible School week. Which does tap into my crafty spirit, although the marble wall did thwart me. Yesterday we made a well out of a table wrapped in last year's paper brick wall, and I rimmed the top edge in sand and thinned-out glue.

I'm in that phase of feeling like Facebook is impossibly stupid, full of inconsequential drivel, so I either need to change whoever's showing up in my feed or stick to the short-short list (because I don't want to miss out on gak, that's the good stuff) or just not check it so much at all.

There's a very good chance I'll finish the book I'm reading, which is not even the usual fluff-fare. Amazing. I feel all bookish again. And I'm excited that we've picked another book to read together!

Three weeks without satellite dish and I miss it not at all. Hulu and Netflix together are more than adequate (I say until ProRun premieres. How did you access that??)

I've painted my toes two weeks in a row and have been wearing borderline cute clothes, maybe to make up for my complete lack of chutzpah. It's raining a lot, so as to invite children's loudness and puppy's boredom and also garden soil's fungus gnats. J.Lo is having an especially bullshit time at work, fixing an impossibly long list of broken things. And let's not forget that terrible daily puzzle of tingling limbs and lost words and whether or not I'm actually losing my mind. That'd be nice to solve. But right now I could really use some pretzels.

well,

Like so many things in my world of late, I see there's an unfinished, left-behind draft in our queue, and oh look, old pictures.

The Italian bread I baked, which was tasty but also very beautiful, I feel.

A selfie when feeling particularly ponderous on the back porch (my recent favorite spot. but will it remain so when it gets wicked hot? to be seen). 

J.Lo playing guitar. I adore. 

The view from M&C's porch last weekend. With my coral-painted toes. I need to redo them; they looked pretty for a minute.

The garden seems more successful this year already? I mean it's not awesome yet (I await Year 3 soil), but the snap peas are like a drive-by snack bar whilst throwing ball for the puppies and apparently there's an actual pumpkin growing in the volunteer patch? The tomato plants are robust and I need to rig some string through the stakes tomorrow. And weed. By which I mean cover all things weedy with wet newspaper and hay. If it doesn't rain, which it has been, everyday since forever it seems. Tropical what. Oh, and peppers! And eggplant! Oh my. They and the lettuce all look relatively healthy. 

I did some mildly obsessive googling on PdR from AD, because I was upset about her face not looking like her face - which I get happens all the time in Hollywood, but I felt betrayed in the manner of Virgina Madsen hopping on the Botox train post-Sideways. Possibly worse. And my conclusion is that you're just going to have to ask TH in person about it, because I don't think it happened. Seriously. Google image "PdR" and "AD premiere." Her face looks normal again. From a month ago. So, wacky eye/nose/botox job part of the Lindsey Bluth storyline, maybe? Just a theory, but it's important at the same time! 

Mmm, cheese and crackers. Followed possibly by pilfered chocolate. 

Ah, Seppuku. I did know that word from a previous Wiki encounter. Gory, man. Don't do it. Despite all circumstances. On a semi-related sidenote, I do wish I were there to either troubleshoot your computer and laptop and fix them, or else help you take a hammer to them, whichever the situation calls for. And help you set up your home, or at least bask in all the details, like floor words and painted cabinets and tea corners. 

And when are you coming to visit? I guess you need a phone service first. Priorities, schmiorities! (I do assume you'll notify me immediately of your newly established number.) 

I anxiously await Bruckner's sober or not sober response to your response - either way would be awesome. Why he doesn't have a blog oh wait post to his blog is beyond me. Where are you, Bruckner! 

All right, I'm going back to my books (two of them!) on a Saturday night. 

xoxox.

and then sometimes

You buy a bag of mini powdered donuts and they're all wet. Ew.

Or you spend hours sorting through a bunch of outgrown clothes to consign online, at this place that seems really cool, and came recommended, and after setting your expectations super low (maybe I'll get a buck apiece - $20+? that'd be okay), they only give you $6.41. Man that pissed me off.

I am however SO EXCITED that Michael Kors will be judging the ProRun finale. In which I'm rooting for Michelle.

And excited to have picked up two delicious-looking YA books at the library yesterday evening. Maybe I'll even settle down enough read them.

I'm in desperate need of yoga for my ridiculous limbs. Aging is sooo overrated.

Last night of bells practice! Until the fall. Last Wed. night dinner, too. A small, only-handbells potluck.

Here are the vegetables.

And here is the puppy.

I love them both, but in different ways.

hashing it out

So I survived the morning sub gig? And I wouldn't say I want to slam the door and run away completely. I'm still processing, so let's talk about it. I'll probably be processing for awhile so it's good I had the chance now and have the time before deciding whether you know - is this what I want to do. Try for. Maybe? The parents overall seem higher maintenance than the children. And the children were all batty because there was a sub. And oh, they were 2-year-olds. I'm fairly sure this is not my preferred age group. And some were sweet but then I do feel like for 3 hours straight you are reprimanding at least one person at all times. And that can be a complete drain. And some of it was just plain overwhelming - like knowing who drops off who and who picks up who and the Personalities and keeping track of how this and that kid did over the course of the day and blah blah. And you forget at that age that you can basically manhandle them if they're not doing what they're supposed to do. Not coming out from the corner? I can so pick you up and carry you wherever I want. Which was the case at pretty much every turn. Crawling under the tables and rocking the chair back into the wall and dismantling the cozy corner, etc. And the new kid who cried - I think he bothered me the least however. Because I get where he's coming from. Anyway if I were there all the time and they were more "my" little students, I suppose it would all become second nature, the absorbing of all these personalities and their rhythms? Maybe. Or would I still at the end of the days feel like I was having to be just so *on* every second, all the time. I find that exhausting. And I totally did yearn for the world of by-myself-$2/hr-fuckit-so-be-it freelance writing work. Oh the tradeoff. Maybe I'll end up settling for a mix? Who knows. Process, process. Process some more. 

Anyway I was completely exhausted this afternoon. 

So back to my self-reminders - HOLY SHIT those designers this season on ProRun! I mean there are bad, mostly missing the mark runway shows and there's the thing that just happened with pretty much absolutely nothing looking even remotely good, at all. Embarrassing execution of sad designs. Nina Garcia in inconsolable yet mirthful tears. Heidi waving her finger and literally saying, Bad Designers. Like they were all puppies. But seriously Patricia and that time-suck of a horrible basket-weave shirt! And those ginormous shirts and shrunken ties and pants that were literally unvelcroing at the seams. While the model stood there, unmoving. Yipes. Just - so bad. I'm already ready for the next season, because who is even going to redeem themselves by the finale, I have few guesses and little hope. 

Birthday! I already filled you in some but that favorite selected moment - it had to have occurred outdoors, as the weather was so penelope-perfect I could barely stand it. Probably when we were all eating our unexpected cinnamon rolls from the cupcake bakery on the backporch. Watching puppy roam. Feeling the spring breeze. Adoring the cream-cheese frosting. Mmm. Yes, that. 

It's Thursday and oh look, I'm already completely behind on bible study for Monday. Whatever? I just can't keep up. Much less with Children's Council stuff, which I've completely blanked on since the last meeting. Too busy mind-spiraling and destroying my fingernails! That stuff takes time and dedication, you know. I did however tackle a giant pile of Things that have been vexing me with their presence for a month and a half now and now the pile is gone. So, small victories. And I think it's time to watch New Girl and then maybe some reading in bed - said bible study fare and then Hex Hall? Which I just purchased with a belated birthday gift card that was totally unexpected but delightful. The library does not have that book! But I do, now. 

love YOU. are you so excited to be going home soon? 

xoxox

penelaotang

you’re soo right

It is my turn. Here I am. Louse-free. K.Lo was sent home Friday afternoon and there was even more nit-picking and I wanted to weep copiously and then off myself. That futility of these tiny pests having anypowerwhatsoever to shape your world. And the thought of nevergettingthemall. It’s maddening. But ultimately it was a little empowering? ONLY because while I loathed every facet of the experience, dealing with headlice has been a fear like, nearly 30 years in the making. The dread of it. The what will I do and OMGITWILLBESOGROSS. And it is gross. There’s nothing not gross about it. I mean the more detached part of me can see the unfortunate animalistic fact of them and shrug it off. Pluck them from each hair strand emotionlessly and flush them away. But yuck, the way they are suited so particularly to the environment of a human head. I do feel like pinpointing their weaknesses and taking them out at the microscopic knees is somewhat satisfying, and count it as a blessing that they even have these weaknesses to exploit. Like not living long on surfaces. And being easily suffocated and/or chemically destroyed. Because you know, some bugs. Some bugs are much more resistant little effers. And I still quake a little thinking of ever dealing with those – scabies, pin worms, various parasites – but this. I can cross this one off the list.

Not that I ever want to deal with it again. Ever.

And so help me if that nurse (who was very sweet, but in this instance she’s sort of cast as the enemy by default) has to call me again.

Otherwise. I’m reading seven books simultaneously and the thought of that makes me squee. It’s exciting to have one’s mind wrapped around so many interesting worlds at once. But not feel taxed, overspent. More at liberty to run this way or that. I finished HG1 and am on to HG2. I picked up another that Cath was unsure if I’d like, but she read it straight through and suggested it anyway. It’s one of those Extremely Quirky Character books wherein the person is an agoraphobe, a person-phobe, an everything-phobe. But it’s satirical and smart and goodstuff. Also, second read of HG, maybe because I know the outcome, but I’m more fully-fledged Team Boy with the Bread. Before I could have cared less about the teams. But now he’s her dandelion. And I care enough to choose. Bookclub with foods from each district is on Friday night, suggestions? Mainly all the ideas I can find center on District 12 and the Capitol. And there was one mention of Caesar Flickerman salad. But I’d like to get a little more creative, like what could I make to represent the power district, or the lumber district. But please do not suggest putting pine bark in soup.

Well anyway. Things to do. I may post some pictures as well, though mine are muchmore random, dictated by photo-a-day more than anything. I might be in a lull. It was those damn nits, I blame the nits! But we are soldiering on.

5th day

I haven’t traversed any mazes lately with a Girl Named Volcanic Repression, but I did spend all day Saturday painting the ceiling of a mildewy basement. And felt completely ill for it, since heat rises and it was soupy heat and anyway. I might have tumors now, or at least a substantial lung disease brewing. It was for church and it’s fine, but let’s just say I’m not in any hurry to go back until the ceiling is done, at least. (It’s a giant, giant room.) I totally (totes) hope you go back to the maze so you can experience it by yourself and also complete the women’s maze because hello – awesome. It sounded pretty epic in spite of the subsequent friend-drama.

A new phone has been procured, secured, and I have named it Persephone. And you totally (totes) would have been proud of me when I sicced my upstate NY accented tirade on the AppleCare rep re: his ridiculous plan to have me send back a lemony device and wait 10 days for a replacement. My speech was long and loud enough to pass whatever escalation test was required by the cellphone carrier so that they intervened and were like, yes, we’ll swap it out for you. Sweet. I feel like I maintained a perfect balance of carefully restrained venom and persecuted customer-ness.

Neighborly shenanigans, you ask? So the nosy one to the right of us, the one who feels sorry for herself as a regular theme of conversation, the one with a vindictive streak who chucked dog poo in our flower beds last year instead of discussing the issue first? That one. Her husband went to the hospital last week after a fall (not the first fall), and I let the dog out while they were gone, and now she’s back and her husband has been transferred to a nursing home. Which was a long time coming, we all know that. And now she’s has this huge life transition in her lap, like what to do with herself, how to create a new life, how to be alone. I get that. I really do. I listen to these words empathetically. At the same time, the invitation to join a water aerobics class together had to be politely declined.

This is the show I went to Friday night. And it was pretty rad! I mean I could have done without the Santa song and why did we go back to the Flagmaker in the 1700s? I’m not sure. But otherwise. I got it, and it was inspiring. It’s a tiny theater brimming over with talent and heart and I love it. Totally (totes) want to go back.

And currently, I’m sitting in awe next to this super-tall bookcase crafted by J.Lo and my dad that is now a cornerstone of our living room. I have to fill it this week, and also make a giant stack of books-to-be-sold-and/or-donated. Because I just don’t want to hold on to them all. I know. Who is speaking here. But it’s totally (totes) me, Penelope.

love to you on the island -

Gratitude,

Pen challenged me to come up with a list, since we're reading 'the good and beautiful God', which so far reads like a reminder if not a full explanation of very true things. It's a taste, or more like a hint of flavor, a bit heavily watered down but palatable? I don't know. Truth. It's working, generating some conversation- since Pen and I struggle so much in trying to communicate... so here it is. My thoughts on Gratitude...

IT IS an antithesis to expectation. It acknowledges the knowing, and being known. It seems it's heart is suffering, with a soul of God is Trustworthy. But I don't like talking about it. It seems a tender almost too private thing. It's like a gift that shouldn't be given on command or just because. When spoken without the story, it lies idle and dies, pictureless. It's too easy.

I pretty much reject it the minute anyone says that I should just go ahead and list what I'm grateful for like a build up to thanksgiving or as a just think, you could be way worse off- which always seemed to me a warped set of reasoning. I sense that to be obedient and disciplined I'd make practice of looking toward the good like i should. In doing so it protects me from the dark and that navel gazing self-destruction of dissatisfaction. Which i admit, for me has crescendoed this year, in the I can bear it no longer category. But I want to come toward it with sincerity. With feeling. Authenticity? I don't want the pain to be rebuffed, or the questioning either- I've done it, and will to other people, because when there is no answer, what else can you do. Direct them toward the light. It is hard to mourn and grieve with others without going a step further into bitterness. When your heart turns and sets in a brittle way that it was never meant to be- so we sidestep. It's hard to ride the road of the psalmist- with their weary bones, and their beseiged by the enemy, and the cry of Lord, are you with us? Where are you? TO...the final end of the passage when they say, walk and wait in the Lord, because He hears me and He is Good.

Everyone's cup of suffering, I think, is unique to them, and what one can bear destroys another. I guess i don't want my gratefulness to destroy the struggle, the tension-- the journey? I'm going through it. I don't want to stop and list off the things that keep me from drowning, because i don't know- it won't ever be enough to sustain me. It keeps me buoyant and light, with a beveled edge, but like suffering it's only the part and not the whole. Poor gratitude. I want to keep it unacknowledged. And it can be breathtaking- the vista- all the things in life that draw you in and keep you there-  when you look toward them, when you nurture and foster the light and hope of things-- but to me freedom, and that is what i want, contentment in all or inspite of circumstance-- and that is a hard road of leaving behind and arriving, and waiting. It is not an easy trust for sometimes faithless creatures. And sometimes I just need to imbibe it and not express it. I need to keep the still tender and fragile thing there until I can step back from the distance and the long line of time and say, this is the record of God's goodness.

But so far, and for now,

1. the glow of the lights on the christmas tree, the reflection of light on the bulbs. because it's the universe. it's the whole intricate mess of creation.
2. my cats: the instinctual, trust to be built, looking at you and ascertaining, and building over time as the two natures of us and them collide and come together. those eyes. that twitch of the tail.
3. my mom, the sustainer and keeper and signal of God's provision for me. the burden seems heavy and i unworthy.
4. the mountains, sugared with snow, stark and hot against the blue, or dappled in all shades- it reminds me that God is outside of time, that they wait for Him as we wait for Him.
5. prime rib, He created us to taste, and i thank these cows for their sacrifice everytime.
6. my friends, not less important than primerib, but they are a reflection of God's knowing, of his creativity, of His delight. they are my most important relationships. even if i were to be married he would not surpass them in their importance.
7. my car- she's just beautiful. she goes.
8. the reflection of light as the sun comes west- reminds me of magic and of things unseen- of shadows and dancing movement.
9. my garden - God's infinite variety, intricacy, specificity, order and chaos.
10. hot water, demanding i drop what holds me up and knots me in the day
11. my computer, to communicate, i want, and explore
12. television, books, movies... there it is the world, we can't look away
13. praying for people, talking to God, has always been a favorite- there is always so much to say even without a word
14. salt, flavor bursts.
15. sugar, enhances
16. fruit- canNOT get enough. not ever. it's a gift. it's a sign of things to come.
17. the santa ana winds, mystical calling forth, ushering, whipping through, they come unseen
18. el nino- it rains, it does, it will come.
19. the LA river, bird life, reminds me we are literally NOT a desert
20. California, i am of the land, she is in me, and in the fiber of my being
21. my ancestory- the web, how time passes, how things move and seperate, what it creates, the history it leaves in it's wake
22. my hands to type
23. my mouth to speak
24. the phrase: ex abundatia enim cordis os loquitor (out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks)
25. the bible-- what a passage of love, what a saga, what an inspired word
26. Jesus, he was not just a teacher, or a good person, he was both human and divine and he died for us
27. the holyspirit, my communicator, my guide, my counselor, who knows when words and groans cannot express
28. God- there He is. I cannot explain him.
29. the trinity- there they are altogether. it is inexplicable.
30. trees, shade- life, roots and all sorts of analogies. hug worthy alway
31. art supplies- who knew you could render the world in such infinite ways
32. jet planes, because of that john denver song and because of wunderlust
33. glitter- call it dust, call it a sign of all things heavenly
34. just laundered bedsheets, stepping into that newness makes me feel wholly secure and a bit giddy. i'mnot sure why.
35. waterfalls- i imagine it must be what God's glory looks like
36. the beach because it reminds me i am small and a part of something bigger
37. the mountain where i belong and am among and close enough to touch
38. nails, because i love to pick and scratch
39. eyes, hazel, to gaze, to ponder, like ears
40. hymns, at christmas freely express
41. ecclesia's home, that old pagan temple to the gods of entertainment redefined
42. mirrors, but not too closely and not all the time
43. teeth, to play with, like toes, like chin hairs
44. 7 continents, something solid and sure about the map
45. dolphins for making me cry when i see them leaping in the wild, because they are
46. dragons and knowing they must exist like unicorns, for their fierce flyingness and the fire thing that's cool too
47. music in general expresses emotion, come herald the morning with a sweet song
48. the way birds call and sing and fly- how focused, and about their lives they are
49. the lilies of the field, because i know how He cares for them though they live and die in a matter days
50. gardening, helps me stay connected to every analogy of such thingsin the Bible, a deep rooted understanding of stewardship, of caring for the land and the need to care for what is good in life, and the absolute way in which the dark can infiltrate-
51. dreams, God has us sleeping 1/3 of ourlives. makes me think i must be doing something while i'm lying there that has nothing to do with this reality.
52. little bits of things like origami bunnies, metal miniature etruscan horses, walnunts, dried oranges, leather purses, pictures, small bottles, feathers- the fascinating minutia
53. recounting the ordinary, that is where the life is
54. feet and hands, the record of someone so vital it rarely is recorded
55. wax, for candles, for feeling and burning and smelling and tactile loveliness, for polishing and enhancing
56. the sun, how it rises and sets
57. the darkblue glow before dawn, which to me is too pale, and that dark blue of prelight is where i like to live best
58. antiques, because of history, of story, of things that have come and will yet be
59. the written word, what a transaction
60. car washes because they are silly
61. mariokart because who doesn't want to race the world?
62. xbox where in i defeat ultimate evil or a gang of thugs, because that is right and it is good
63. the cello because i cannot play it but love the sound, so one day i will try just to touch it and know what it would be if i could and did
64. french, for the music of language, and how things once foreign can become known
65. it is the same with shakespeare, i can be bounded in a nutshell and think myself a king of infinite... but denmark, is a prison...
66. to the lighthouse- it grabs me that ennui
67. like proust, who goes on and on, and never quite grasps
68. archaeology for people who love to examine layers
69. dinosaurs because they were- it's habitat enrichment for humans
70. snow, for the way it transforms
71. empty city streets, jay walking, rollerblading, idly strolling, pondering disaster
72. the taste of flourless chocolate cake, divine, consuming, rapture
73. hummingbirds because they are too small and they go too fast, but when they take notice of you the whole world stops
74. chapstick and lotion, tending to the lips and skin
75. and gum for when you want to be productive
76. and meditating when you finally decide to rest and give it up to Him who gave you life
77. lists, for all that they are in their tyranny and beauty of there it goes one after the other
78. organization, aesthetic heaven, it's all coming together, the knowing of things
79. the crunch of kettle chips deafen but can't stop making loud sounds because i have to
80. like wind chimes, and bucket drums
81. for the mineral composition of everything in the universe
82. for people who seek impossible things, in delight and not slavery
83. for people who make it better and not worse
84. for carbonation, the fresh bite, the quench ahh
85. like bandaids and aloe plants that heal and cover and protect
86. like the solid front door and the substantial mantle
87. for wood floors that gloss and glide and reassure me
88. anything bbq, and cravings for longisland iced teas and certain types of martinis
89. quotable movies and good comedies
90. finally angels, they must exist, they do, there they are,
91. for the unexplained feelings of things we know to be true but can't record
92. what Love must be
93. what joy signals
94. the shadow of things to come
95. the feeling of finished things, of pushing through and accomplishing
96. the journey because i must
97. my chair
98. my blog
99. the revelation of truth, the shattering of secrets
100. the voice...

books 2011

sometimes I think I don’t take enough time to read, but really, cataloguing the list, that can’t be true. and that is a good thing, since I love books. they’re my favorite. here’s a top 10 of what I read this year, and the rest. book-wise, 2011 was a good year, filled with #goodreads. Heavily themed in post-apocalyptic YA fic (thanks, Katniss). And with several teen-boy protagonists, many of them gay, randomly? (thanks, David Levithan) all of them thoroughly delightful. And (obviously) some vampires/other supernatural awesomeness.

1. The Hunger Games trilogy, by Suzanne Collins ~ was so resistant. but wasn’t it so worth it? yes, yes it was.

2. Ready Player One, by Ernest Cline

3. Will Grayson, Will Grayson, by David Levithan and John Green

4. Once Upon A River, by Bonnie Jo Campbell

5. An Abundance of Katherines, by John Green

6. Dash & Lily’s Book of Dares, by David Levithan and Rachel Cohn

7. Beautiful Creatures and Beautiful Darkness, by Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl (first and second in series)

8. Matched, by Allie Condie (first in a series)

9. Sisterhood Everlasting, by Ann Brashares (probably belongs higher in the list, but I’m still mad about it. #letsbehonest)

10. It’s Kind of a Funny Story, by Ned Vizzini

11. (Because there can’t just be 10) Beastly, by Alex Flinn

 

also, in no particular order:

• Divergent, by Veronica Roth (first in a series, def reading the rest)
• Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist, by David Levithan and Rachel Cohn
• Naomi & Eli’s No-Kiss List, by David Levithan and Rachel Cohn
• Evermore, by Alyson Noel (first in a series, will consider the rest)
• Feed, by M.T. Anderson
• Wither, by Lauren DeStefano (first in a series, definitely reading the rest)
• My Name is Memory, by Ann Brashares (better be the first in the series; an across-the-room chucker)
• Boy Meets Boy, by David Levithan
• Awaken, by Katie Kacvinsky (part 1 of a series, will likely read the rest)
• City of Bones, by Clare Cassandra (first in a series, not touching the rest)
• Snow Flower and the Secret Fan, by Lisa See
• Maine, by J. Courtney Sullivan (beautifully written, but a huge narrative disappointment)
• Hush, Hush by Becca Fitzpatrick (first in a series, not touching the rest)
• House of Night series, by P.C. and Kristin Cast – through book # 8

 

and, my book club books! which I feel belong on their own list:

The Weight of Silence, by Heather Gudenkauf

Second Glance, by Jodi Picoult

The Help, by Kathryn Stockett (rightful place is in the Top 10)

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, by Rebecca Skloot

Pomegranate Soup, by Marsha Mehran

 

finally, the “started but didn’t finish” (various reasons)

Crossed, by Allie Condie (was overdue, will check out again soon)

Girl Meets God, by Lauren F. Winner (timing – extremely picky about non-fic)

Modelland, by Tyra (because it sucked. wait, that’s not fair. because I don’t love campy humor and models mixed together.)

The Future of Us, by Jay Asher and Carolyn Mackler (because it was neither as surprising nor delightful as I wanted it to be. and I really wanted it to be)

The Lover’s Dictionary, by David Levithan (will return, esp after winning endorsement from ChiCath - just wasn’t the right time)

a group of “pretty good, but ultimately too young, even for my usual YA fare:

• Every Soul a Star, by Wendy Mass
• Parrotfish, by Ellen Wittlinger
• Black Sheep, by Yvonne Collins

Thirteen Reasons Why, by Jay Asher (saturated in suicidal selfishness)

The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak (because it’s narrated by Death, whose voice is entirely too false-charming)

The Year We Left Home, by Jean Thompson (breach of contract w/ author re: characters)

and one with eggs on the cover, can’t remember the name (because main character insulted Asheville and mountain landscapes in general. we just weren’t going to get along.)

the book stack from @rd_morgan

#thetwitterverse #magicalmailpackages #YAdeliciousness

I still smile every time I think about it. Where will I even begin.  

books found in the basement

m-dash,

I’ve violated some of our readers’ (they exist? perhaps) sensibilities again by looking ahead in the book I’m reading to see if the payoff’s worth it. Because I’m a girl with limited time and emotional energy and I don’t wish to waste it. Nor do I wish to be set up for a fall. Emotional maturity is arguably a factor here; why enter into a relationship I know in my heart will end badly? Right? Needless to say, the result of this peeking-at-the-surprise was not at all what I expected. Or maybe I subconsciously suspected, which is why I looked ahead. Really, I was looking for verification that the couple gets together, and ends up happy, because the book is totally billed as a romantic comedy. Lighthearted, but well-written, a When-Harry-Met-Sally-esque affair.

Except that one of the main characters DIES.

I mean… this is not what I signed up for. At all. And I’m torn, because like I say, the book is wonderfully well-written, lauded by Nick Hornby on the cover (always a good sign), quirky, and British. But, hello: Sally did not die in that movie. Therefore, this book is not the same. And it shouldn’t be the same, it should be different, of course it should be different, but that sort of different is a deal-breaker.

I think.

What to do. I’ve only got 3 days left with the book, and this hemming and hawing is not helping.

But it’s all made me wonder if death as a subject is something that I’m spiritually (relatively) okay with in theory, but not in actual, concrete terms. I mean, maybe it’s something we’re never really okay with in this life. I mean, obviously. It’s one of – or the only? – Big Question. It’s a subject I ponder just as much or more than average birds. And I can read about it… I think. But I have to sign up for it knowingly.

I guess I just don’t take it very lightly at all. Even if I wholeheartedly believe that it (life – I mean death) does end up completely okay in the end, unlike on Freaks&Geeks last night when L said her grandmother saw nothing just before passing away – what’s up with the spiritual vacancy, Judd Apatow, hmm? – it’s just… it doesn’t belong in romantic comedies. It doesn’t belong in the stuff you’re sitting down to relax and enjoy and escape with. Because even though the topic is ubiquitous and looming, I justcanthandleit sometimes. Or don’t want to try.

The number of books I’ve preemptively rejected because of this issue is becoming more than a handful. To which I say, oh well. C’est la vie. Or C’est la death, as the case may be.

Can I get a what-what?

yours,

penelope

Penofmylife,

I don't think i can communicate enough the magnificence of such a dream. It taps very much into my secret desires to do exactly that, or squirrel away and be a hermit or come under someones teaching and take on my destiny. Perhaps its a warning that I shouldn't neglect you when I do. Remind me. I probably suggested you stay. That would've been grand. Next time your dream takes us on such a voyage, remember to stay with me- no matter what I say. It's clear there's some sort of key to the comings and goings of me. But apparently I do frustratingly thwart and deviate the path. I had a dream the night before, my mom reminded me, that involved me touring in a bus, in foreign lands and at one point of a bathroom stop i was barefoot, and I was wondering why didn't I put on my shoes and my mom was yelling at someone because the bathroom was so dirty, and I just remember it being impossible for me to go in there. Obviously according to you, I made it to my next stop. Last night I may or may not have been ziplining and rockclimbing in this gym, which was strangely after celebrating someones birthday who had the same birthday as jesus. And there were at least 5 other people celebrating birthdays and I was like, whoops i forgot to ask for candles, as we already had the cake, and the waitress brought them.

But anyway, oh I got our book we're going to read. I thought it would be thinner somehow but let me know when you're ready for it. I'm also reading this book called "scandalous risks"... I'm not sure how scandalous it is so far but we;ll see. I need to read today as yesterday I spent 10 hours watching tv. I did sort of work on the jewelry but mwah i'm feeling thwarted by materials, my vision, my lack of knowledge about jewelry construction and what if its not good enough? What if the materials break? What if its inferior to what i envisioned? Ach.

So let me tell you about my first ever, quite possibly, visual migraine... the pic is sideways but mom and i came in from touring the garden, where the other day we picked all of these beauties. It is the first of the spring harvest as we've been steadily picking bouquets since then. It always makes it hard to imagine there will be summer flowers to harvest. Ok, but anyway, I come in and i'm sitting down and i thought i'd stared into the light outside too long, so i blinked thinking it would go away. But no it extended out from to the right of my right eye like vibrating pixcelating piano keys in iridescent staccato. Like a scythe. It didn't matter which eye was open. There it was. Then after that I'd read things and there was a smudge in the way. The little one in the pic, the same color as the other one in the middle of my vision distorting only part of the words i was reading. And then the scythe came back a little closer in to the right side of my field of vision extending out and fluttering and finally sometime around closing my eyes (where it still appeared but was less distracting against a black background), taking aleve, lying down and listening to kill bill 1. it finally went away. WTF. Mom seemed to enjoy the camaraderie as she has visual migraines from time to time but anything new and possibly debilitating is so not cool with me right now. As my eyes were tired after, slightly headachy to boot and I can't say I feel particularly plucky this morning- even though there are places I can go, things to be crossed off the list.

In other news I've fully embraced quinoa as an awesome hearty grain, preparing it in vegetable broth is very tasty and so is mixing it with feta and cucumber- and dill and greens. The banana bread recipe hits the spot and now the only thing if we could have another thing is a scone recipe. There is still the waffle recipe and the pancake recipe to try also.

I will try not to make more cryptic references to "the letter" as I cannot possibly explain it here. But Pen you can explain however much you'd like to Andria. And this is a perfect segway to give props to callie who gets a total award for sending me a card that says exactly thee most perfect thing ever. Not that mom doesn't give me props for the chocolate attilla the bunny card from easter, but still. Cards do sometimes say it all. I'd lost faith, and yet there it is.

In other news before I go out to read in the sun, properly sprayed down for sun protection, i wanted to show you a pic of my innocent looking cat marley and then how if you scroll down i finally caught on camera the vicious attack he levied on my golden retriever. Bodo seemed to be glad of the attention, kind of? But still.

And in the sum of things, besides the migraine these are all good and true things, despite the nebulous, non productive week i've had.

see you in your dreams,

m.

fav line so far from this book

(The last line.)

“It’s an old story: When Prout and Liebig nailed down the macronutrients, scientists figured that they now understood the nature of food and what the body needed from it. Then when the vitamins were isolated a few decades later, scientists thought, okay, now we really understand food and what the body needs for its health; and today it’s the polyphenols and carotenoids that seem to have completed the picture. But who knows what else is going on deep in the soul of a carrot?”

--from In Defense of Food, Michael Pollan

Haul, by pen

Last night I went to the Famous Library Book Sale, this time all hard-core. I paid my $15 (tax-deductible) to join the Library Friends and therefore gain advance entrance. It was worth it. Amidst a crowd of box-lugging, wheelie-suitcase toting shoppers, I filled my bag* with:

1. A bunch of Boy Books for Scott. They’re the written equivalent of action movies. You know what I’m talkin bout.

2. Hardcover versions of Harry Potter 1 & 3 (I just need 2, now).

3. Reading Lolita in Tehran

4. The Memory Keeper’s Daughter

5. The Time Traveler’s Wife (LOVE it.)

6. Perks of Being a Wallflower

7. The Secret Life of Bees

8. Lucky

9. Red Tent

10. We Thought You Would Be Prettier

I have no room to spare on my bookshelves for these new adoptees, and a whole slew of books from previous book sales I hadn’t even gotten to yet. But I find it completely exhilarating, the LBS, kind of like Christmas. And I’ll get to them all eventually, especially now that I’ve been on a more intense reading streak of late. I’m kind of like the old-old me, with that, rather than the old me. Does that make any sense? Bah. I don’t have time to dissect, I have books to read!

*My bag, a heavy-duty paper one with rope handles from Eddie Bauer, fared so well for the duration of the sale, only to break 10 yards from the checkout, spilling my haul everywhere. Of course it did. I expect nothing less when in public. Clearly next time I’ve got to go canvas.

man.

I’m so bummed to see that one of my favorite non-fiction writers ever, David Foster Wallace, died this past weekend, at age 46. Suicide. I’m kind of at a loss for words.

He wrote novels as well, obviously, but his essays with their zillion hilarious footnotes always stuck with me since first beginning to study creative non-fic years ago. A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again should be on your Must Read Someday list, if you haven’t yet. Both the book and the essay itself are utterly fantastic.

Sigh.

PSA: Gossip Girl

For those of you who share my summer goal of catching up on Gossip Girl, the CW is airing the pilot on Sunday night, and then the following episode on Monday night, so I imagine they will then air the entire season over the course of the summer. Starting at the very beginning. On TV, instead of the stop-start, small-screened jumpiness of online viewing.

Clearly the program schedulers have read our blog and set it all up, just for me. Program those DVRs! and discuss with me.

In related news, the Summer of Books is also well underway, as I spent the better part of this weekend "lolling out in the yard, watching the children play," with a book in hand, or a magazine, whichever. Of course it's going to be scorching hot before you know it, but until them, I'm soaking it up. It's idyllic. It's kind of heaven, letting your mind and self just "be."

Penelope out.

here and there

The little things: you can change your colors now on Yahoo! beta mail! Up next: will you show my avatar?

New vocab for Bug: "sucker." As in, "Your mommy is a sucker for giving you yet another popsicle this afternoon."

Love just for the title, but on the content, can't decide: "America's Most Smartest Model."

Although I did enjoy: that they right away kicked off "Kept Man's" Slavko and also that girl who everyone said was orange.

And: I love Ben Stein.

Snob: I won't read this stupid book I bought at Spring's Library Book Sale because I'm afraid it will taint my writing. If I keep writing. If I can stop being distracted by contractions and keep writing.

Anyway, the book: It's called Blessed are the Cheesemakers, and no offense Sarah-Kate Lynch, but that's a stupid title. I should have known better. Vapidly enjoyable chick-lit is one thing, but after 10 pages, I'm out. I hate some of the characters already and I think you're being too coy, stylistically. It's to the garage sale pile with you.

Weather: too effing hot for October.

Seriously?: I cannot get comfortable. Not for sleeping, not for just sitting around on the couch. Certainly not for walking or standing. I don't want to share anymore, it (the body) is mine.