01 November 2017
i've come to ride on you again.
when the foot pain comes softly creeping -
metatarsals arching and creaking -
but this time you won't get the best of me
you will see:
this time it's sounds of wellness.
in restless nights i bike alone
in the basement of my home.
'neath the halo of fluorescent lamp
turning pedals like a cycle champ,
and my eyes are stabbed by the flash of the teevee light
that split the night
and touched the sound of wellness.
and in the teevee light i saw
ten thousand hours maybe more -
hours in motion without moving,
hours peddling without propelling.
hours cycling on a bike that doesn't move -
what's the use:
it is the sound of wellness.
“fools” say i, “you do not know
metatarsals are your toes.
hear my words that i might teach you:
i'll ride forever and might not reach you,
take good care of appendages -
they are the well of wellness.
and you people bow and pray
to the running god you've made.
still the sign flashed out its warning
in the words that it was forming,
and the sign said
“the sage of the statbike
is staring at the basement walls,
'cause after all,
it is the sound of wellness."
with utmost respect to
sound of silence
by mr paul simon
20 October 2017
some of the stuff i have done lately...
- visit to NYC with someone who'd never been there. see things through their eyes. see things as if for the first time. see things for the literal first time. get lost but not too badly. be the one who knows how things work.
- start running again with regularity. feel frustrated that my pants are still too tight, in spite of the activity. find places for microworkouts during the day. feel frustrated that my body is aging despite my best attempts to turn a blind eye.
- get a big promotion. learn a metric shit ton about project management and leadership in the process. learn a bit about myself and my coworkers despite my best attempts to keep my distance.
- miss my mom in sudden & unexpected ways.
- consume to more audiobooks than ebooks by an immense order of magnitude.
- shop for birkenstocks.
- listen to alkaline trio way too loud but just one day.
- wonder about life and things. wonder why i can't wear my socks up, like the kids do, without looking ridiculous. are there things that are actually age based, or is it a matter of "owning it".
- dream about flying, about not being able to get up off the ground although i know i should be able to, about flying way too high and feeling scared i'll tumble, about flying head first, about flying feet first. dream about floating (as opposed to flying) and having to call out for someone to catch the ribbon i'm trailing and hold to the ground so i don't float away. sleep on my stomach, on my side, on my back.
- sleep in indiana.
- register for another soccer season because what he said is true - you should choose to keep doing it as long as you can because one day you won't have a choice about quitting.
- switch my basic work wardrobe to something more updated, which i purchase at old navy because it's just fashion and doesn't need to last, because the cheaper it is the easier it is to change, because the cheaper it is the sooner it wears out.
that's just a tidbit.
so. see? it's not like i am not doing stuff. what's missing is that i am not processing it effectively.
i am processing mostly into poetry these days, whereas i used to process into prose.
oooo! i like that much better.
do i like it because it's true? or do i like it because it explains what's happening?
is it true because it fits what's happening - or does it fit what's happening because it's true?
poetry comes easy for me. is it good poetry? humph. i'll let you be the judge. i think it's good. one of the many projects i want to do but have not done is to go through all my blogs and cull the poetry and make a book of it, but then i think about who'd want that book and well, i am back to missing my mom, which is a bummer.
but poetry comes easy for me. i can feel the rhythm and find the rhyme and i know that what i write isn't complex, but i also know that everyone can't do it. but because it comes easy for me, poetry feels like a cop out. but another word for something that comes easy is "gift". where is the line between gift and cop out? is it a gift if no one but me wants it? can a gift be just for the gifted, or is it not a gift if it's not sharable? people will say, "he's got a gift for kicking field goals." or "she's got a gift for photography." - but are those really the gifts those people have? what if you were born a shepherd in 1342 with a gift for kicking field goals? or you're born in the pleistocene era with a gift for photography? talk about a bummer, jeez.
anyway, this is how my thoughts go lately. they are tumbling and spinning more than they are sitting obediently to be typed on the page. i know it's not unusual. i know it's because i don't spend enough true rumination time. i know all that so i am not apologizing for the mess or anything. just saying - that's the state i am in. one day i will have way too much rumination time on my hands, and god willing, when that time comes, i will have even a fraction this much food for rumination.
16 October 2017
i am feather.
i am freedom.
i am air.
shadows under trees.
it is autumn.
i am breathing.
i am there.
in case you couldn't tell, this is a song. here is me singing it to the beat of the blinker: sorted
26 September 2017
does kneeling or sitting during the national anthem disrespect the flag, the country, people who fought for our freedom? what constitutes disrespect? can you disrespect only part of a faceless entity? is a country a faceless entity? can you disrespect the flag and respect veterans at the same time? does different etiquette apply if you are live at the event or at home watching the event? does different etiquette apply according to a person's role? is this a free country where it is our right to behave as we please as long as we aren't breaking any laws? does behaving against a common standard of etiquette constitute a protest? does behaving against a common standard of etiquette constitute an effective protest? what is an effective protest? can a protest accomplish a goal greater than mere recognition of an issue? does disrespecting what someone else holds dear get their attention in an effective way? does disrespecting what someone else holds dear further the cause of unity? when i say disrespecting what someone else holds dear do you assume i'm talking about disrespecting the flag? which is more disrespectful to all that is USA - not standing up during the national anthem or not standing up for what you believe? can action without context be meaningful? can protesters control the change that protest brings? can protest bring change? is getting angry over someone's protest a protest within itself? is anger a protest within itself? is anger productive?
20 September 2017
i wanted to share myself with you
by telling you about the groups that i'm in
and then i heard you call the people in those groups idiots
and watched you treat them cruelly
and i lost my nerve
i wanted to share myself with you
by telling you my beliefs
and then i heard you disparage those beliefs
for the sake of tolerance
and i lost my nerve
i wanted to share myself with you
by telling you about the books that i read
and then i heard you call the ideas in those books stupid
and watched you treat them with contempt
and i lost my nerve
i wanted to share myself with you
by telling you about the places i go
and then i saw you marginalize those places
for the sake of inclusion
and i lost my nerve
i wanted to share myself with you
in the hopes that we could find
some common ground for love
but i felt your disdain
for everything that is me
so i lost my nerve
09 September 2017
to live in a grove of cedars
and watch the day come up
sunlight strained through cedar boughs
hot coffee in your cup
to live in a grove of cedars
needles between your toes
and a wee grey cat to follow you
everywhere you go
to live in a grove of cedars
and work in the woods all day
ensuring apparent wildness
where other people play
to live in a grove of cedars
with bob white for a friend
and a whipoorwill on your windowsill
when day is at its end
to live in a grove of cedars
and when the sun goes down
the lightning bugs come out to play
across the mossy ground
to live in a grove of cedars
and breathe cedar-scented air
while stars pass by in a cool night sky
you sleep with no worldly cares
21 August 2017
or here and there.
what i have is memory, but how long will that be with me?
will i forget this thing i saw, when i am old, a granny-ma?
the most amazing part of it was not the end or start of it,
nor the middle (quite delightful),
nor the afters (very brightful).
no, the most amazing part was knowing right when it would start,
and knowing also when it'd end
(when the moon'd move on again)
and then to watch it all unfold just the way that we'd been told
the eclipse was amazing. where i work, we had a party with free food and eclipse glasses, and we all gathered outside and watched it happen. we wore the glasses until TOTALITY! when we took them off and looked directly at the black hole moon with the bright white corona busting out the sides like a squashed double-stuff oreo while this phone app counted down to the second we needed to put the glasses back on to watch as the on-the-move moon moved on.
as amazing as it was to watch, the most amazing thing by far was that it happened precisely as predicted. i mean, they can't even predict rain when it's literally actually raining, but they can predict the precise movements of these ginormous heavenly bodies.
also, the corona was pretty damn sweet.
16 August 2017
cause those things are a pain in the ass.
anyhoo, i didn't want to do it, so i put it off a whole year, and went for my annual physical, and went through the whole conversation again.
then, one day, i saw a commercial for this: cologuard.
colonoscopy at home!
IT'S A REVOLUTION!
i messaged my doc. that's right, messaged her. my doc works for vandy and they have a slick messaging system. anyway, i messaged my doc and asked, what about this cologuard - can it be a substitute for a colonoscopy? she was all, good question and yes it sure can and in fact we have an even better test here at the lab, you can come pick it up during regular business hours.
getting to the doctor's office during regular business hours is a royal pain but not quite as royal as a colonoscopy. like, a colonoscopy is the king of pain and getting to the doc at midday is the princess.
so i went on over there today, found a place to park, went in and asked at the information desk where could i get the "mail order colonoscopy thing". the info desk guy was all, riiiiight.... the colonoscopy department is over there. so i walked over there and asked for "that kit thingie where you can do the test at home" and the guy at the desk was all [blank stare].
so then i had to get directions to my doc's office because this place is hella mazey. i wound my way through the building to her office and the lab across the hall... and there i managed to ask for the "home fecal testing kit" #GROSS. the one lady at the desk had to ask another lady and the first lady literally said she forgot what i wanted and so i had to say it again, "home fecal testing kit" #GROSS. but that second lady, she just reaches in the desk and hands me an envelope.
it's like 4"x6" and you can feel this tube thing inside.
ACK. ACK. ACK.
i'll just stop here. this is probably already more than you wanted to know.
14 August 2017
do you have google in 2067? well then, use it, bygod! google you up some 2017. .....see? serious. much more serious than all the things i blather on about... groceries, running, clothes. even when i wax philosophical, it's pretty shallow. it's not like i don't know that.
thing is, attempting to articulate my opinions on complex subjects in a small space such as this isn't going to end well. "small" or maybe flat, one dimensional, words only. there's no body language here, no facial expressions, no nuance. it won't end well because without me to interpret them, my words will be looking for someone else to do that job and they'll look around and find you, and in their eagerness to get interpreted, they won't be too picky about the interpretation you come up with.
that's just too dangerous.
so, instead, we will talk about bossman cookies & pies.
the bossman's truck is often parked at a place where i sometimes start my runs. so, i see the bossman's decal-emblazoned pickup a few times per week. today, i saw it, and my mind made up a song, and then for the next half hour or so, as i ran around the sidewalks, this totally made up song ran around and around and around my brain. i mean, totally made up out of the spare thoughts flotsaming and jetsaming around my wee tiny brain, and i mean, "around my brain" as in "on an endless freaking loop".
ENDLESS LOOP. people. that is serious.
here is the lyric:
bossman, bossman, bossman cookies and pies!
bossman, bossman, bossman cookies and pies!
pies and cookies from the bossman -
cookies and pies the same!
he's got the pies and the cookies,
and the bossman is his name!
and, for your listening pleasure: bossman song
10 August 2017
i've been running again.
are these statements related?
i have run every day this week.
here's what i am doing differently this time.
1. pay more attention to hydration.
2. stretch at least ten minutes after every run.
3. take it easy. no sprinting. no steps. no tomfoolery at all.
4. no more than three miles at a pop.
crazy like a fox.
02 August 2017
today at work a colleague fell down the stairs. granted it was only about five stairs, but the landing is concrete. she was going down the stairs as we all do, heard someone call her name from the top, turned to look up the stairs, lost her footing, grabbed for the handrail, missed, and fell.
in a matter of seconds, forget about driving yourself home, forget about going out with the gang after work, forget about that meeting you were headed to, forget about getting up off the floor. forget about your laundry, your friend's birthday, your oil change, your work assignment, your overdue library book, your lunch, your plans, your dignity. forget about all that and replace it all with the fact that you are lying on the floor, taking inventory of your breathing, trying to move your toes. and wondering what just happened. your entire focus is narrowed down to survival.
on the way to the gym after work, we were nearly caught in vehicle crossfire. a motorcyclist avoiding a sideswipe from another pickup came within a hair's breadth of our tailgate. he pulled his ineffectual motorcycle horn then skillfully dodged between the truck beds - ours standing still in the turn lane, the other moving towards him from traffic. it happened in a flash, and not exactly "like nothing happened" but we all went on with our day, with our plans, with our going places we needed to go and doing things we needed to do.
one day completely changed. one day completely unchanged. why did my colleague get the short end of the stick? she's not a bad person, so why did something bad happen to her? maybe she was destined for something worse, and the fall was part of a plan that saved her from that, so what seems bad isn't actually bad... if you had access to this context. maybe it's a punishment for some hidden sin. or, unhidden - hell, i don't know her that well. maybe it's karma. maybe it's dumb luck. maybe it's part of a giant clockwork and some people are destined to get jammed in the cogs. maybe it's completely random.
01 August 2017
when i put flour, coffee, sugar, butter on my grocery list, i feel very laura ingalls wilder. not that she was getting butter... they were probably churning butter. but i know they purchased coffee and sugar because i read about it in little house on the prairie. thing is, there's just something about composing a list of the basics... feels pioneerish, uncomplicated.
you know they weren't getting greek yogurt and bananas at mr cooper's general store. they weren't getting bottled water or air filters or tin foil or boned, skinned, de-feathered chicken carcasses. mr cooper didn't carry kleenex or coconut oil or velveeta.
one time when i was shopping with mini-me, we were procuring a cake mix because someone's (can't remember whose) birthday was in the offing. she was small enough to be sitting in that heinous wire cage some masochist invented for children to sit in while their parents grocery shop, which luckily the kids don't know any better and just sit there merrily... point is, small child very young. she says to me, what's in cake mix? and i am all like, well flour and sugar and probably powdered milk and salt.... and she is like, you mean we could MAKE a cake? and i am all, no no no - there are special cake ingredients we can't get.... ugh. is that child abuse?
i am not a basics kind of girl. i am a processed and packaged kind of girl. i mean, not processed like sweetarts and doritos... at least, not since high school. nowadays it's processed like fig newtons and shredded cheese and flatbread and greek yogurt in little serving-size containers. and when i need to bake a birthday cake, i get a cake mix plus icing in a can.
of course, my list does have one thing in common with that of the prairie dwelling ingalls -- coffee. and i even get it prairie style: whole bean, baby!
27 July 2017
this sprightly stride is designed to tell the world that i am A Runner who is Obvs Taking An Easy Day. the hips are definitely tight for this one but the stride is smooth and long. i'm clearly talented and that is why this is so easy for me. a key element for this run is a straight back, so straight that i could carry around a copy of pride and prejudice on my head, and i don't mean the hardcover weighty library tome pride and prejudice. i mean that copy that was handed down from your brother because he was one grade ahead of you, so you had all the same reading lists he did, soon enough after him that you could read the same actual books as he did, even though he treated you like a booger that he couldn't get off his pinky finger. that copy. that chunky mass-market paperback with the curled up cover. my back is literally so straight and my ass is literally so tight that i could carry that janky book around on my head while i am running. and, look good doing it.
wardrobe: a matchy-matchy running skirt and tech top
playlist: sailing, africa, more than a feeling, everybody wants to rule the world, kiss on my list, soul sister
pace: hella fast
despite its alliterative alignment with the aforementioned tight-ass trainer, the tired-ass trot bears it little resemblance to its fellow. this gait says "i've been running several times this week already and i am about to compunctionally malfunction. i mean, i am tired. i mean i am literally so tired that i am about to pull a patsy cline and fall to fucking pieces. so tired... but hey. um... hey, whatnow. here i am still holding on to a stridelike motion. worn to the nub but yet, a runner." a key element here is holding everything together just enough to not fall apart, while maintaining a run: a gait wherein half the time both feet are off the ground. not shuffling. not walking. running. the steps can be close to the ground and can be bitty-baby short, but a runner's rhythm remains.
wardrobe: who cares? you're lucky i am even going out! i am so tired.
playlist: the sound of blood pulsing through my brain
this is a joyous lark, a flit and float and fleetly fleeing flight! this bouncy bound says i am a naturally talented runner who doesn't even know how spectacular she is, just bobbing around town, la la la, out and about on a loose, jangling jog. it's key here to loosen up the hips and shoulders. let the arms swing. head bobbing is a-okay. the challenge is to maintain the bounce and jangle without landing in a heap and tangle. the hobbyjog is harder than it looks - what with all the relaxed hips and high steps, it can be quite a tax on the ol' hammies. accomplishing the bounce and jangle while beaming with the joy of flitting fancifully is damn hard work. but, so fun!
wardrobe: soccer shorts and cotton tee
playlist: happy jack, born to run, black coffee in bed, fat bottom girls, melt with you
pace: DON'T PRESSURE ME!
this is nothing but a shuffle. shuffle through training and shuffle through the "race event". mile 1, shuffle. mile 15, shuffle. mile 25.8, shuffle. feet are low, face down to the path, arms tight to the sides like you're dying of broken ribs and can only hold them in with your elbows and forearms. barely maintaining the run-type gait, you shuffle. shuffle. shuffle.
wardrobe: that special outfit you bought just for the occasion
playlist - rubber tree plant ant song on endless loop
pace: finishing is all that matters
19 July 2017
i am currently out of town on business. weird saying... "out of town". i mean, i am in this other town, but out of my town. so. i am currently travelling on business. that's better.
i am currently travelling on business and am at a remodeled best western in a time zone where the sun doesn't set until after 9pm. it's currently 21:04, and the view out my window is thuslywise, ipso facto: sunset.
in the background, between the bob evans and the shell, there is a speedway where i perambulated for snacks. i came back with two grape G2s, a pack of blueberry belvita, and a banana. the cashier guy was young, lucid, and sweet, and even laughed at my obtuse joke, but sadly had the rotted teeth and spotty skin of a meth head. ah, middle america... your next generation is dying.
this is the view coming up the stairs i went down to get to speedway and back up to return from speedway.
this is a slightly awkward view of the landing. to the right of the door marked "2" is the staircase from the previous picture... i am looking back the way i came.
my point here is: spacious landing with framed picture.
i am fascinated by spaces like this. is this an on-purpose space, or a vestigial structure? were the landings made wide and spacious for some purpose, or is this simply the space that was left at the end of the hallway, perhaps a result of the aforementioned remodel? the framed art implies purpose, but how many people even use these stairs, and of those people, who would have use for spacious landings? maybe a travelling irish jig team that needs a place to practice. maybe the hotel staff does yoga here. maybe the builder messed the fuck up.
LED spotlights make terrible bedside lamps.
this picture is in the bathroom.
this shows you how high that picture is over the toilet. wee frame floats high. maybe it's high up because that's where clouds belong. i liked this picture at first, but then the hole that's opening up to the mid-right of the shot started to bother me. now, i pretty much can't look at it because of the disturbing cloud hole. who is stupid -- me, or the person who selected this picture?
p.s. just noticed the t.p. and now am completely distracted by it and really sorry you have to see that, but i am not inserting a new picture because this entire exercise has taken, like, an hour already.
this is the sink. swanky, eh? i left all my stuff in the shot for your voyeuristic pleasure. thing about this swanky sink is, it's sitting atop a relatively high pedestal. i mean, i am fairly tall, and i find it a wee bit too high for my liking. unless i shrug up my shoulders, my forearms hit the sink when i wash my hands. shorter people would need a stool. so, nice try remodeled best western. you almost got this one right.
i opened the cabinet to look at the fridger and found this.
clearly, something went awry.
18 July 2017
when i was first getting into marathons, i was harassed on an online message board, stood up for myself in fine fashion, and was rewarded with an invitation into a different message board - one that could best be described as a virtual locker room. a virtual men's locker room, that is. equal parts dumbassery and smartassery with a dash of calling each other names. that adorable group of wacky wacktards saw me through my first crutchtastic injury and on into the heyday of my nine-mile lunch time runs and 5k PR (22:56). they let me be smart and let me be stupid. they encouraged me when i wanted to accomplish running things, but never pressured me when i just wanted to whimsically flit around. they heard my dreams and set me up for some of the best punchlines i've ever delivered.
for a variety of reasons, i drifted away. injuries. hobbies. work. family.
a few years passed, but i still thought about that place, reminiscing about how great it was, day dreaming about going back.
the other day, i did it. i went back in there. some of the old characters were still there, but it was weird. there were all these new people. it was like going to visit your high school and finding out the jackasses you palled around with back in they day were now teachers... parodies of their former selves, wandering the virtual hallways in a soulless pot-bellied glory days daze, telling the same tales, carping over the same crap.
and then there are all these new people and they are doing it wrong. DOING IT ALL WRONG. i started to get pretty hot over how they were doing it wrong - doing it all wrong. they were despoiling this sacred place. had they no respect? no decency?!
i wandered around a bit looking for my locker -- the one with the shaun cassidy tiger beat cover taped to the door. i couldn't find it. i was beginning to think i didn't belong here anymore.
had this place changed, or had i?
i left again, and this time i don't imagine i will be missing it.
15 July 2017
it's not obvious. i mean, clearly it can't be obvious because i never noticed it before, and clearly, i am someone who notices things, and clearly, i have used that bathroom like, you know, more than once in the past. i've used it casually and i've used it completely, and yet somehow i never noticed this egregious window treatment faux pas.
my sweet tiny personal-haven-of-peace bathroom is getting a face lift. as a consequence, i am currently completely using the hall bathroom. that is to say, i have moved everything in there - from my toothbrush to my hairbrush - and am exclusively using that bathroom every day. as a consequence, i frequently find myself perched on that potty, and since that potty is next to a window, when perched on the pot, i peek out the panes.
la, la, la... trees and shrubs and look at my lawn how green green green and sunflowers by the road, how nice... la, la, la... and isn't this a nice room... how wise was i to choose this colour? looking good, teal walls and chocolate brown shower curtain! and hey, what about this window treatment, eh? what about these perfect sheer babies with the teal and brown trees! reflecting the nature outside the window and the colour scheme inside the window. per-feck-SHUN! woo! la, la, la... nice sheers, ace... teal leaves... hmm.... why are those leaves more whitish? almost looks like the reverse stitching... almost looks like...
almost looks like...
OH EM GEE that panel is backwards! it's backwards! that one is... wait... this one is... that one is... BOTH PANELS ARE BACKWARDS.
there are some things you just can't unsee.
14 July 2017
a few weeks ago, i lost it. OH MY GOD I LOST MY FAVOURITE SWEATER. i was distraught. DIS. TRAUGHT.
i searched the house, up and down. searched car, office, house again. asked the lame-oh, usually busy sleeping "security" guard at the front desk at work. asked my coworkers. nothing.
then, as i was going over my movements for the millionth time, i realized i'd gotten a facial. AH-HA! i texted my facial girl (love saying that but she's like this really nice lady who is like 10 years my junior). so, i texted my facial girl and asked her did i leave a sweater there. she was like, yes, she found a sweater but didn't know whose it was.
i called the facial place and asked how late they'd be there. til 6. perfect. i swung by on my way home from work, picked up the sweater, and order was restored to the universe. that evening, i took the sweater as an extra layer when we went to grab a bite. i tossed it in the back seat of the truck and turned out that i didn't need it and then i forgot it in the truck. a few days later i was looking for my old friend again - turning the house upside down, sorting through the detritus in the truck's back seat, looking around the office. it was no where.
i liked it so much and was so shook at the first loss that i had ordered another. a backup. however, i was loathe to un-tag the backup because clearly the world is a dangerous place for little black sweaters, but what choice did i have. it was desperate times. i un-tagged the backup and put it into use.
at this point, i'm considering whether i need to get a replacement backup to backup the backup that's been pressed into service. (not pressed as in ironed. don't be ridiculous. "pressed into service." it's an expression.) it's not an easy decision. they're like $15 per and while that's admittedly not a king's ransom, i wouldn't throw $15 out the window, either.
so i'm noodling this decision and days go by. fortnights go by. six weeks go by and this afternoon i am headed to get a facial. i walk in the facial place all hi, hello, good to see you. my facial girl goes, hey - i have your sweater here, still hanging on my door.
oh. my. whatnot.
did all that stuff -- all that calling the facial place, swinging by to pick it up, leaving it in the truck later then losing it for a second time -- did all that... did all that not even happen?
i feel like i am in an epi of the twilight zone.
i feel like i am in the for-real twilight zone.
i have these literal MEMORIES of stuff that DIDN'T EVEN HAPPEN.
totes to the spooky.
i do now have two little black cardigans.
12 June 2017
it was a very mod house with a sunken living room which we were not allowed to go into except sometimes to use the stereo, so that is where i went to listen to the 45 of saturday night (by the bay city rollers) which my brother had given me for my ninth birthday, and also to play my brother's 45 of the theme from SWAT, to which my friend jenny (of the long blonde hair) and i choreographed an entire dance sequence.
07 June 2017
well. noticeable to me, at least. so much so that back when i was carpooling, i nicknamed this commute "wacing wednesday". (by nicknamed i mean, said it to myself.)
you have to stay out of the way on wednesday, or you'll get knocked out of the way. today for instance, there were three traffic stopping wrecks and one strategically placed fender bender.
you could say that the wrecks slow people down so they speed to make up for it, but i would say to you - what caused the wreck. five'll get you ten that speed caused the wreck. speed comes first on wacing wednesdays. and then, it's not merely speed. the competitive darting in and out of traffic lanes turns it into nascar out there. all these doofuses (doofae?) careening down the freeway it's no wonder they are bumping into each other.
but what's making them want to go so fast, on wednesday? is wednesday traditionally donut day at offices across town but all offices have just barely not enough donuts to go around and so folks are wanting to speed on in to get 'em a donut? or, is unassuming l'il ol' tuesday night actually a night people stay up late, and then they are tired and sleep in, and then they are late for work, so they speed in? or, is everyone just letting off a little collective hump day steam?
like so many things in this world... i bear witness to it, but i don't understand it.
06 June 2017
in order of appearance:
connecticut is nearly 1,000 miles away. new mexico is 1,200. north dakota around 1,300. california over 2,100.
what are these people doing here?
have they moved here and not yet changed their license?
are they visiting on business?
are they on vacation?
if they are on vacation, i wouldn't expect to see them on my commute. they'd be much more likely to go to one of the tourist areas and stay there.
if they are on business from california, well... come on. they'd take a plane.
most likely thing i can think of is that they have moved here. from what i have heard, nearly 100 people move into this area every day, so it only stands to reason we'd get some from faraway places.
not in the past couple days, but in the past i have seen alaska plates, and also some from canada. that's a long way to drive a car, just to have that car when you get to your new location. i mean, you're putting a lot of miles on it in one pop. how great can that car be? sell it and get another when you get here.
unless you don't have much stuff. maybe you just pack up your stuff in your car and moved it all down. no moving vans for you!
that'd be pretty sweet, actually. i mean, not that i don't heart my toast rack like, a lot-lot, but to only have as much stuff as will fit in the car... or, even better, to only have enough stuff as will fit in the car while still having space to see out the back window.
if my life had that kinda simplicity, i'd put it in my car and haul it a couple thousand miles, just because i could.
04 June 2017
when i imagine looking for different stuff, like ingredients for something new, it doesn't feel so much "interesting" as "pain in the ass". so maybe i like being bored?
i can make a grocery list without really trying and i can walk around the grocery and pick up stuff we need or will use without really trying. if i get something and we already have one of them, it's okay because we'll use it because it's the same as the other stuff we have that we'll use. we eat the same stuff over and over, so i buy the same stuff over and over.
but it's not boring.
i don't experience it boredom. i don't feel that impatience that i get when i am bored, when i want the waiting to be over and for something to happen. it's not like that.
but, should it be? should it be boring? should i experience boredom with doing the same thing over and over, buying the same thing over and over, eating the same thing over and over? and if i am not, then why am i not bored -- with doing the same thing over and over, buying the same thing over and over, eating the same thing over and over?
i'm adventurous. i like to try new things, eat at new places, travel.
but at the same time, i am not bored (in this case) doing the same thing. i am not thrilled, excited, can't wait until grocery day gets here. it's not like that. but - i am also definitely not bored.
but, should i be?
am i too simpleminded to realize when i should be bored?
and if i don't realize i am bored, who's to say i should be?
or, maybe i am bored, and don't realize that i am. is that even possible?
maybe i have a really high boredom tolerance. like having a high pain tolerance and walking around with a broken ankle and not even knowing it, not experiencing the pain -- maybe like that, i walk around doing really boring things and don't experience boredom.
obvs that would come in handy when faced with those repetitive experiences in life, but would a high boredom tolerance keep me stuck doing the same stuff and not knowing there's more out there? but would i care if there is more if i weren't even experiencing boredom?
a high pain tolerance can lead to bodily damage. if i don't know i have a broken ankle, and i walk around on it, i can make it worse and damage it in a way that it becomes unusable.
what sort of damage does a high boredom tolerance lead to? if i don't know i am walking around in the same paths, and i keep walking around in them, what am i making worse... what thing am i damaging in a way that would make that thing become unusable?
31 May 2017
and they don't even notice you're there.
you want to be where you can feel completely alone in the world.
you want to be where nobody knows your name.
you want to go where you can know all people are completely unique.
you want to go where nobody knows your name.
30 May 2017
29 May 2017
but, take away the dishonour for a minute. i think you can call for a memory to be banished without calling down dishonor upon it. i mean, maybe it's a painful memory, but not a bad one. maybe by nature of being a memory - in the past, not a current thing - maybe that makes it painful (but not bad).
so, it's painful (but not bad) and so you just want to banish the memory. you just don't want it anymore. you can't use it, don't need it, have no purpose for it, and it's hanging around like an albatross. but oh-so-typical of the human brain, you can't remember your dentist appointment, but you can't forget the birthday of your dead mother.
28 May 2017
the potatoes take a wee bit of prep (wash, spray on olive oil, wrap in foil), and then they peacefully sit in the oven for an hour & a half. the chicken i did in the instapot, which is basically put the chicken in, shower it with mrs dash southwest seasoning, add a cup of water, set the timer, and walk away. the chopped salad came complete in a bag. the fruit took a little chopping - peaches, which were so ripe they'd hardly sit still to be cut, plus hulled & halved strawberries, all topped off with blueberries. the rolls were from the bakery and the lemonade was pre-made in a half-gallon jug. i did brew the tea fresh. for tater toppings, i took sour cream, cheese, salsa, and butter out of packages and into a serving bowls. the entire desert was store bought.
i'd say the hardest things were:
(1) deciding what kind of chips to buy. we ended up not even eating any chips, so those brain cells got all sweaty for noting. i ended up choosing fritos (because, of course), veggie straws (because baby junior likes those), and bbq chips as a backup plan. i figured the salsa could double as a tater topping and dip, and i added two types of hummus. as a backup-backup, i got some mixed nuts. way overkill on the hors-d'oeuvre, as we ate none. in retrospect, i might build in some appetizer time for my next gathering.
(2) the timing involved in getting everything pulled together. i put the potatoes in and then had like an hour to twiddle my thumbs. there just wasn't a lot of prep for any of the rest of it. but with a half hour to go, it was a bit of a mad dash. i mean, i could have done the salad beforehand, i guess, but i was sort of leaving it for mrs junior to have something to do when they got here. then, they were like 15 mins late, so i ended up fixing it and everything was ready when they arrived. in retrospect, i might find a couple more things to do earlier in the process.
(3) cleanup. for starters, the dishwasher was halfway full. i actually ended up pulling a couple things out of it and washing them to use. we only have four big plates, and one was in the washer, and then i needed both pairs of tongs, and one was in the washer. then, at the end, there wasn't room for everything. i could have left dishes in the sink and done another load in the morning, but i wanted to be done, so i finished them up by hand. it wasn't that much... a instapot pot, the steamer insert and top to that pan, the ice cream bowls, a couple glasses. i just didn't want to face them the next time i walked in the kitchen. in retrospect, i might make sure the dishwasher is empty at the start of group dinner.
i know there will always be difficult parts or awkward parts, but i'd rather do this more often so i could shake out the basic process. i mean, running & emptying the dishwasher before the meal is a basic.
a few aspects seem to be keepers:
(1) having taters and toppings worked well. people like to fix their own food, and it does take some work off the host. although i don't think i can get away with having taters every time, i will look for things that work that way. top your own pizza. build your own sandwich or salad or taco. et cetera.
(2) too much food is better than not enough. that's always true, and if it's food that makes good leftovers, even better. i had too much food but didn't throw anything away.
(3) don't sweat the drinks too much - unless you're doing a drinks party or a long event. i did lemonade and tea, plus a fun drink bottle thing for baby junior. that was way plenty. i mean, don't get me wrong, everyone found something they liked and that was nice, but people will always drink water. i didn't sweat the drinks and am glad.
what is your favorite thing to do for supper gatherings? do you like to try new recipes or stick with well-known territory? have people arrive early for social time, or just right on time for the meal? do you try to keep a balanced plate or just go with whatever seems yummy? what works well for you and what would you change?
27 May 2017
so, being the self-sufficient type, i googled up a "what's to do". that's when i learned the generally recommended cure for soft toast blues: a toast rack. seemed like an easy enough fix. i googled up "toast rack". that's when i discovered that some people think their toast racks are worth a lot of money and further discovered that i didn't agree with them.
so, i kept looking. and looking. and then i found this:
it's imported from britain. all "what what" and whatnot. i must needs procure a measure of clotted cream.
the bright shiny rack. the frosted glass base. the hundreds of excellent reviews on amazon. what's not to love? i mean, without having actually experienced a morsel of toast plucked from it's gentle grasp, what's not to love? pluswise, it's less that 25 bucks.
i ordered one. i'll let you know how it works out.
26 May 2017
so, anyway, today i had a root canal. i'd never had one, so i didn't know what to expect. i had the impression that a root canal was a terrifying and laborious procedure that required several days' recovery. everyone i talked to assured me they had come a long way and it just wasn't like that anymore.
here's what it was like.
got up at the normal time despite needing to leave the house about 45 minutes later. this allowed me the luxury of an extra cup of coffee followed by scrambling madly because i was running late. when i change timing in the morning, it's a challenge to get out the door on time. am i ever ready early? hahahaha. ha. haha.
i used google maps to help me find the place because i didn't recognize the street name. it wasn't far from home and i learned about a new street, so that was cool. i got there right on time.
check-in was simple. they had all my info from a past visit. even thought it was like four years ago, nothing on my records had changed. easy medical office check-in is the benefit of leading a boring life.
within 10 or so mins, they were calling me back. they had to retake some x-rays even though the dentist just took some on tuesday. fine. whatevs.
the doc came in and i was like, um, scusi? here's this barrel chested guy with a pony tail, looks like he just got off a harley or came in from a round of lumberjacking.
so he asks me what's up and i go through my Tooth Tale, and as i am really getting into the whole thing, i see impatience flash across his face. um, scusi? talking about my teeth here, big guy. but i try to wrap it up because bottom line, we all know what the problem is.
a root canal treatment is required when the tooth has died. it's very sad and i didn't even have a funeral for it, but my tooth had died. tooth death comes down to nerve decay... the nerve withers and the decaying nerve tissue becomes a pile of rotting pulp in the root canal.
in. the. root. canal.
the root canal is a tunnel in the tooth where the nerve lives like a worm in a tube. so, when the nerve dies, there's nowhere for it to go and it just sits there in the canal, rotting. in my case, the rot had started to leak out the side of my gum in the form of a fistula. if you think that's disgusting, you probably can't stomach how long this went on while i denied it was a problem.
dead worm in a tube. how do you get it out? turns out endodontists use cleaning tools that look a lot like miniaturized bottle brushes. they drill a hole in the top of the tooth or (in my case) crown, reach in and scrub down the root canals (two roots per tooth, two canals) with these tiny little pipe cleaners. up down up down up down in a motion that is making my head nod like a puppet, the motorcycle lumberjack is reaming out my tooth.
during processes such as this, i practice calming techniques. constantly policing my face, neck, shoulder muscles and demading they relax. smoothing out my breathing. calmmmmm.... calmmmmm.
i got so calm i fell asleep.
fell asleep with my jaw propped open and a burly pony-tailed man's hands in my mouth.
fell asleep so hard my arm reflexively jerked, causing doctor lumberjack to think he'd hurt me.
you can't hurt me, lumberjack. i'm asleep.
through a series of grunts, i communicated that i was fine. he carried on and completed the procedure. my mouth and jaw remained numb for several hours, and ibuprofen is my friend.
08 May 2017
well, i was watching a commercial.
i was watching television where this girl was in this commercial.
thing is, she did a cartwheel.
she did a cartwheel and it struck me.
it struck me that what she did looked different that anything i ever tried related to cartwheels.
everything i ever tried related to cartwheels was focused on propelling myself onto my hands.
everything she did related to cartwheels was focused on propelling herself onto her feet.
she just reached out her arms and flung herself onto her feet by route of going upside down first.
she didn't fall forward or fall backward or land wrong.
she was fluid.
like a WHEEL on a CART.
the essential mechanics of it were the same as anything i ever tried.
the difference was,
where i have always been stymied by how to begin,
she just concerned herself with where to end up.
01 April 2017
i am saying, what's lazy? is lazy "doing nothing"? or, is lazy avoiding duties in favour of doing something you'd rather do? and, does doing something you'd rather do only qualify as "not lazy" if it's something other people would call difficult?
i'd rather run 10 miles than clean the bathroom. i'd also rather run 10 miles than do my taxes. but, i'd rather do my taxes than clean the bathroom, and above all, i'd rather drink coffee and read. off all of those, i'd say the coffee and reading is lazy, but reading is only lazy if you're good at it and enjoy it. reading is a chore if you're bad at it. reading is a chore if the book isn't well-written or if it's required reading for a class. so, cleaning the bathroom could qualify as lazy if you're doing it to get out of some sort of required reading.
so, what is lazy?
right now, i am sitting in a recliner, watching a jimmy fallon off the DVR, and typing you a little missive. potentially lazy, but i've set myself the chore of frequent writing, so...
31 March 2017
but if you are a grown-up you are by definition grown, not growing, so you don't have this built-in new-clothes motivator. if you take care of your clothes, you could just keep whatever fits when you quit growing. like, say you're 23 years old and basically done growing and you get an outfit you adore, and you take care of it, you could wear it when you're 33, 43, 53... i think you get my drift. of course, you have to actually not grow anymore. you can't gain a bunch of weight or somehow else change shape. so you take care of yourself and take care of your clothes, and you can be inappropriately and unfashionably attired well into middle age - and beyond!
30 March 2017
10. harry's visit with dumbledore in limbo is firstly too convenient and secondly not helpful at all.
9. the harry--petunia relationship is given short shrift. total missed opportunity.
8. after reading the book multiple times, i am still not clear why there was a horcrux/hallows choice. why not both?
7. seems like ignotus peverell was harry's great-grandfather. i'd have like to have seen him thrown this one familial bone.
6. is it really necessary for tonks and lupin to die? and fred? and lavender? and colin creevey?? and dobby???
5. to much blind fumbling. dumbledore could have written harry a little "horcrux tips & tricks" when he realized he was dying of the ring-curse.
4. all the drama of ron and hermione in lurve. ick.
3. no one seems to believe or trust harry, even after all these years.
2. no hogwarts. what can i say? i am a fan of school.
1. it's the last one!
p.s. just listened to the end of chapter 22, and 8 & 5 are pretty much answered there. so...
28 March 2017
stretch after exercise.
write every day.
when does a new leaf become just a leaf? is there a limit to turning the same damn leaf over again and again? how many times can i be disappointed in myself before i change? how many times??
i can't run right now because my foot hurts because i tried running every day without stretching. i mean, i would sort of do some stretchish things, but mostly i would be like DONE! and get in the car. when i am hurt, i vow - as god is my witness, i'll never skip stretching again. if only i could remember what it felt like being hurt, when i am not hurt... but when i get better and the stretchnesia sets in.
how long has it been since i wrote something here? i didn't even look... did you? it's been a while, that i know. the time just sort of compounds. i do get disappointed in myself for not writing, but with every passing day, it's just easier to skip it. inertia is the devil. my disappointment is multiplied because, despite posting publicly, i post for myself. i mean, don't get me wrong, i love that the three or four of you drift by and give me some attention. but really, i am writing because it's good for my brain, for my ability to self-express, for my dusty creativity... pluswise, the discipline of daily writing requires the discipline of daily discovery of something the hell to write about. when i allow myself to fall out of the habit of writing, i by definition allow myself to fall out of the habits of observation and curiosity. bottom line - by skipping it, alls i am doing is letting myself down.
i don't actually eat too much. that's just there for dramatic effect, and i definitely don't get enough sleep but probably kidding myself if i pretend i am going to do anything about that.
let's just work on stretching and writing.
08 March 2017
thing is, every time, i remember it. i remember it's wipe-down night. and every time, i try to figure some way to get out of it. and every time, i don't let myself. did i mention it's like, five minutes? i spend more time trying to get out of it and talking myself back into it than it takes to actually do it.
if i ever skipped it, the whole thing would probably collapse. if i let myself slide once, i'd probably never do it again. that, and the fact that it takes like, five mins - that's what's holding the whole thing together.
it's a sobering thought: a quick, easy habit is all that's standing between me and cobwebby corners.
i am not a fan of housecleaning, but when we remodeled a few years ago, i decided to try harder. all this nice new stuff... i'd try harder to keep it clean. fast forward to now and you'll find the breakfast-for-supper-wipe-down is pretty much the last vestige of a stalwart plan. it's also the only cleaning action tied to another action that's both recurring and unrelated.
recurring and unrelated and... and... oh. em. gee.
recurring and unrelated and enjoyable, desirable, sought-after, looked-forward-to, HA!! hell-oooooo psychology 101. tie the undesirable action that you want to have recur, to the already-recurring action that is desirable.
really cannot explain why that blazingly obvious relationship took me so long to figure out, except that the kitchen wipe-down occurred like magic and i didn't want to mess with that magic? i guess? looking behind the curtain might make it stop? and i don't want it to stop? maybe? i guess?
something to consider. that certainly is something to consider.
04 March 2017
my brain is suffused with excuses for not being here and devoid of interesting things to say.
i have some thoughts about the basis for and origins of truth, but frankly i am a bit worn out on that whole discussion. i was going to share some pictures of stuff i saw today, but frankly i forgot to go back and take the pictures, so that's out. i could tell you about the audiobook i am currently listening to, but frankly i haven't really figured it out myself... it could be a brilliant mystery or it could be merely poorly written.
funny how they look the same when you're in the middle of them, stupidity and brilliance. alls you know is, you don't get it. could be you don't get it because it's an ungettable hot mess. or, could be because it's purposefully ungettable - it's hiding from you. the former ends in disappointment and the latter in fulfillment. not only is the latter immensely entertaining, but it redeems the time spent. to spend time with something, sustaining all the while a hope it will come to fruition, only to have it not pan out... well, what a waste of time and hope! the plot that bobs & feints, peeks & evades, and at the end comes to a thrilling conclusion... ah! that's a catharsis and a vindication, a true fulfillment.
this audiobook has a solid mystery as the basis, but it seems more clumsy than deft in the unfolding. like i said, could be that it's so good at piecemeal unfolding that it seems clumsy, but all signs are pointing to "just a hot mess".
on the whole it's fascinating -- an intriguing melange of kidnapping and religious fanaticism with a light dusting of familial dysfunction.
despite the fascination, there are these solid periods of sheer confusion and others of molassesesque action.
light is shone on the trail of clues in an uneven, unmethodical fashion, so there's no way to come up with your own hypothesis, and half the fun of mystery books is trying to figure it out and then seeing if you're right at the end. a good writer can pull you along the entire time then throw in a twist or a final clue so skillfully that you don't feel bad at all for having been on the wrong track.
worst of all, though - today i heard a convenient placement of a teddy bear wearing a bell where there had been no mention of a teddy bear before. just-in-time props, characters, plot twists, settings are a pet peeve of mine, and not like a wee goldfish pet peeve. more like a feral cat pet peeve.
admittedly, the dual narrators of frantic mother and precocious-but-still-merely-8 kidnapped daughter aren't reliable. on the one hand, that could lead to just-in-time mentioning something, but on the other... well, it's simply poor writing. that or poor editing. i mean, if a writer is throwing that shit, well then the editor should catch that shit and put it in a bag.
it's definitely NOT so bad that i can't listen to it. i definitely want to finish it. it's just not as good as i had hoped.
or, is it?
09 February 2017
he was all like, let's take your car to get the oil changed after work, and i was all, what a pain in the ass.
in the interest of turning that frown upside down, i'll count my blessings.
- a car
- a car that's in good enough shape to be worth doing routine maintenance
- money to pay for routine maintenance
- a place i trust to do the maintenance
- a place i trust to do the maintenance, that stays open late
- someone who will pack my running togs and bring them to me at the car maintenance place so i can run while the car's getting its maintenance done
- safe sidewalks to run on near the car place
- safe sidewalks to run on
- safe sidewalks
- warm running togs
- legs that work, and feet, and arms, and lungs, and heart, and eyes, and nose, and mouth, and, and, and...
- a thick coat after a cold run
- asiago cheese bagel & tomato soup
- fresh coffee
- good company to share a late supper
- money for food
- a clean, well-lit place to eat
- a hot shower at home
- a hot shower
- a shower
- a home
- clean clothes after a hot shower after a hearty supper after a cold run after an arrangement for car maintenance after a day at work after a nourishing breakfast after a good night's sleep
24 January 2017
to claim we are living in a post-truth era is to - by definition - also claim that there was previously a truth era and before that, a pre-truth era.
are there truths or is there Truth.
what is truth. is truth fact. is faith truth. is faith fact. if fact is quantifiable, measurable, visible, objective... and faith is conviction of things not seen, then faith cannot be fact. can a non-fact be truth.
whence context. i look like doris day... compared to a pine tree. there are people that will tell you that yoga is a religious experience and people that will tell you that yoga is a sin. we claim different truths because we have access to a wide variety of inputs, yet we lack shared basis for discernment. does that make one of us wrong or are we all merely differently right.
what is the value proposition. when is it worth lying. when is lying wrong. is it a lie to say "we are all winners" - to tell children "we are all winners". is it a lie to say you're beautiful, if it's only true in my eyes.
whence tolerance. is it intolerant to express a singular Truth in the face of someone with a different view. does equating the merit of a view with that of Truth mean that Truth doesn't actually exist (because it's merely a view). or, is Truth a case when intolerance is tolerated.
what is trustworthiness, is it fact or perception, intrinsic or contextual. do we trust people because they are innately trustworthy, or are they deemed trustworthy because we choose to trust. when no one is trustworthy, we are free to choose whom we trust.
when you can't trust anyone, you can trust anyone.
i believe it, therefore it is true.
22 January 2017
then, i took her with us to florida and she was lost.
my mother replaced owlie with a frog called froggie. froggie tried really hard, and he was okay, but he was no owlie. a couple years later, i took my birthday money to the store and bought a teddy bear. this bear was the bomb diddly. he fit perfectly in my arms and he smiled at me so sweetly. i christened him peshal and have him to this day.
but even as special as peshal bear is, he doesn't have one thing that owlie had. it's something i have never seen on any other stuffed animal ever.
owlie had my favourite thickness.
owlie's felt parts - her feet and the rings around her eyes - were made of felt that was my favourite thickness. i told my mom this thing about owlie, when i still had owlie. i told her and i even showed her -- this here, this is my favourite thickness. i remember telling her because it was highly important and dear to me, and she of course laughed. haha, mom. thanks a billion for your support. i was six years old for godsakes.
i can see how you'd think, well - you loved owlie so of course the thickness of her felt was your favourite. but, it wasn't like that. it was the other way around. i didn't love the thickness because i loved owlie... i loved owlie because she possessed a physical manifestation of my favourite thickness. i loved her for it, and i grieved when she went missing.
for a while, i sought the thickness, but since i'd never measured owlie's felt parts, i had no idea what i was looking for. time passed and though i never forgot about my favourite thickness, i managed to let go the search.
then, the other day, out of the blue, i look at the toilet paper roll and i was like oh. my. god. because there it was, the toilet paper was my exact favourite thickness.
you know how the sense of smell is most closely linked to memory? well, the sense of sight falling on favourite thickness is most closely linked to calm. seeing this thickness made all the tiny shards of life lose their sharpness and meld into a whole, smooth sphere
this time, i measured it. my favourite thickness is a quarter of an inch.
it's okay to laugh if you want. i mean, even my own mother laughed at me. her laughing at me really hurt me at the time, and even looking back, i think it was a shitty thing to do, but in context, i know that having a favourite thickness is not common. something uncommon is harder to understand, and not wanting to feel stupid for not understanding, we dismiss the uncommon by laughing at it. it's like using the "ridiculous" spell on a boggart - laugh at it, turn it ridiculous, and thereby make it go away so that you don't have to face your own ignorance.
so go ahead and laugh, but this boggart isn't going away.
i have a favourite thickness, and my favourite thickness is a quarter of an inch.
09 January 2017
voyager - diana gabaldon
dragonfly in amber - diana gabaldon
the burgess boys - elizabeth strout
outlander - diana gabaldon
queen of the tearling - erika johansen
station 11 - emily st john mandel
emerald green - kierstin gier
thrice the brinded cat hath mewed - alan bradley
a rule against murder - louise penny
sapphire blue - kierstin gier
ruby red - kierstin gier
the cruelest month - louise penny
the trespasser - tana french
wicked autumn - gm malliet
a world away - nancy grossman
landline - rainbow rowell
fatal grace - louis penny
fangirl - rainbow rowell
eleanor and park - rainbow rowell
hider, seeker, secret keeper - elizabeth kiem
dancer, daughter, traitor, spy - elizabeth kiem
lost & found - blaire davis
the room - jonas karlsson
mr penumbra's 24-hour bookstore - robin sloan
artemis fowl - eoin colfer
still life - louise penny
a few drops of blood - jan merete weiss
these dark things - jan merete weiss
screwed - eoin colfer
plugged - eion colfer
career of evil - robert gailbreath
slade house - david mitchell
the silkworm - robert gailbreath
the cuckoo's calling - robert gailbreath
mrs queen takes the train - william m kuhn
the girl on the train - paula hawkins
the ocean at the end of the lane - neil gaiman
boston girl - anita diamant
a tree grows in brooklyn - betsy smith
plum spooky - janet evanovich
full house - janet evanovich
big girl panties - stephanie evanovich
plum lovin' - janet evanovich
plum lucky - janet evanovich
visions of sugarplums - janet evanovich
a week in winter - maeve binchy