that time i remembered how to read

From the time I submitted my final paper for Foundations of Library and Information Science until the spring semester officially began on Tuesday of last week, I had just over five weeks to live life on my own terms without assignments or quizzes or articles or textbook chapters or discussion boards.  A significant amount of that time was eaten up by holiday preparations and the holidays themselves, which were, despite a case of strep throat and just over a day lost to a stomach virus, uniformly lovely.  But just as noteworthy in blogging terms as Christmas baking and parties and presents was that during my break from school, I rejoined the ranks of readers, consuming six books.  Let me tell you about them, please.

Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins


The circumstances:  Since I started my expanded teen gig back in the fall, I've been feeling not so cool about the fact that I don't read much young adult fiction these days.  Additionally, every time I think that, I want to punch someone over the name young adult fiction.  So when I got tired of being the only person in the world who hadn't read this trilogy and when my long-time stooge (non-internet friends will know her as Sam the page) offered them to me in audiobook format so I could listen to them on the way home for Christmas, I knew my time had come.  I actually got a head start on them by listening to the first one as I did some holiday baking and then consuming the second in day I spent languishing in my bed of sickness.  And because I couldn't wait any longer, I polished off the third a few days later several day before I began my trip home.

The verdict:  A few disks into Hunger Games (because I didn't actually read them with my eyes, I have no concept of the number of pages or chapters), I thought to myself that I could totally understand the mass appeal of this book--but it also seemed a little formulaic to me.  And then a disk or so later, I acknowledged that I too had been sucked in, formulaic or not.  I really enjoyed the first one, and I was eager to see the story develop in the second . . . but that's when the hopelessness and futility started to make me itch.  I would still say that I liked Catching Fire, but things were starting to fall apart for me, and by the time I started Mockingjay, I was worn out by the misery.  Much like my final verdict on watching Lost, I can only handle characters I've grown to care about being miserable for so long before self-preservation kicks in, and I have to remove myself emotionally from the story.  That happened here.  And in case you are wondering whether I was rooting for Peeta or Gale (and yes, I just had to look up how to spell their names on the internet), I was rooting for everyone except Katniss.  She was my least favorite.  Maybe I was rooting for Haymitch most of all.

The Magicians by Lev Grossman

The circumstances:  After the Hunger Games saga, I was in the market for something else to listen to on my drive to Kentucky, so I explored some options.  What I really wanted was The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo as it was the January selection of my online Peeps book club, but there was a hold list at the library, so I went with the coworker recommended Magicians instead.  I also got the book itself in case I got four hours into the story and wanted to keep going while I was at my moma's house and not in the car.  I listened to it all the way home, but never felt the need to crack open the book while I was in Kentucky.  I put another four hours into it on the way home, and I was still waiting for something to happen.  When I got back to work, Jonathan had started listening to it as well, and though I was further ahead, we shared a similar feeling that something was lacking, but I forged ahead and finally finished it on a lazy Saturday.

The verdict:  I hated the person who narrated the audiobook which I'm sure influenced my overall experience, but I just didn't enjoy it.  At all.  I tried to--I kept expecting for it to click with me as so many people had extolled the greatness of the book, but I never got it.  I don't recommend anyone ever reading this book (least of all you, my dear imaginary readers), but if you think you might someday read it, go ahead and skip down to the next paragraph to avoid some spoilers.  The book is about this teenager who gets accepted to a magical college (leading someone to mistakenly tell me that the book was like a grown-up Harry Potter, which is the most insulting thing anyone's ever said about Harry).  The kid is completely unlikable (even worse than Katniss Everdeen) and profoundly unhappy to boot.  But when he discovers this magical world waiting for him, he's sure that he's figured out why he's been unhappy.  And then he's unhappy being magical.  And then he's unhappy some more.  And then later, he's unhappy.  Also he's obsessed with this series of books he read as a child where a family of English children are sent to a manor in the country side and discover a portal to another world where animals talk and there's a wicked queen to defeat and they become royalty.  The land is governed by wise,moral and very stately rams who might as well be named Aslan, because my goodness, it's such a blatant rip-off of the Chronicles of Narnia that I wanted to scream.  And then it ends badly and the most likable character dies and it just gets worse from there.  The dumb kid (who's in his mid-twenties by the time the book actually ends) never stops whining and wallowing in his own unhappiness, and there's actually a sequel (and a third book coming soon) and a movie to be made of the mess, but I've washed my hands of it all.  Don't ever read this book.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Steig Larsson

The circumstances:  By the time that I got home from my holiday trip, this audiobook had come in for me--plus I bought the paperback as a little present to myself, so I was ready to give it a whirl so I could attend book club for the first time since we started it back up--and so I could go see Daniel Craig as I have a strict policy about not seeing movies if I haven't read the books.  I listened to about a third of it, but the names were confusing without being able to see them, so I switched to the print version.  I started it on a Saturday evening and finished it before bedtime on Sunday with plenty of time to spare before book club on Monday.

The verdict:  It's a slow start, and the Swedish names can be a bit confusing, but once I got into it, I was hooked.  The mystery bit was intriguing, and I found the main characters really interesting, and although it ended up being fairly graphic and brutal in places, I thought it was well worth the read.  I still haven't seen Daniel Craig, but I'll get to that eventually.  My enjoyment of this one made me place holds on the remaining two books in the series, but so far I haven't made a start on them yet.  Maybe during spring break . . .

Julie & Julia by Julie Powell

The circumstances:  I saw Peep Martha the morning of book club, and she warned me that I might get the chance to choose the next book since I was showing up at chat and hadn't had a turn picking yet, so I did some research that day so I would feel prepared.  I was looking for something that would be a light change of pace form the intensity of Dragon Tattoo, and everything I knew of this book fit the bill, so I picked it.  So with only one more week between me and the start of the new semester, I decided to go ahead and try to make a dent in it, so that I'd be prepared for our February book chat even if my classes did try to kill me.  Luckily, in that week, I had another trip to Kentucky, but this time I would be a passenger--and be traveling twice as far to get to Pinkie's birthday party, so there were plenty of reading opportunities along the way.

The verdict:  I laughed out loud at the book enough in the car that my moma wants to read it.  I'll have to warn her about Julie Powell's potty-mouth, but even with her propensity of dropping the f-bomb enough to make me blush, I really enjoyed it.  It was often insane and sometimes unintentionally sad, but it was still a delight.  And now I get to watch the movie--which I always thought looked cute but was unavailable to me because I hadn't read the book.

Since the start of my semester, I've also read a few gems such as the back cover of Bossypants by Tina Fey, which had me in fits of hysterical laughter, and two chapters in The Neal-Schuman Library Technology Companion, which is a real page-turner, let me assure you.  Next up is a couple chapters of Information Representation and Retrieval in the Digital Age.  I'm pumped about that as you might imagine.  It was a joy to be back in the land of the pleasure reader for a while, and I'm determined to not let so much time pass before I sneak back for another visit.  In the meantime, for those of my faithful followers who are not hip-deep in library textbooks, what are you reading?

approximate rhyme is disgusting and other disproportionately strong reactions

I was thinking today about the crushing guilt I feel over my lack of blogging, and then I considered all the things that are wrong in the world that I'm not fixing and even the things that are wrong in my own life that I overlook with very little consequence, and I decided it was stupid to feel guilty over something so trivial as blogging.  My blogging doesn't save the world, and it's foolishness and wasted time to expend energy or prolonged thought or worry on my lack of posts in the last quarter of 2011.  No one cares, and even if a few imaginary readers have given passing thought to what has become of my work dramas or burger hunts or haikus or even the long-lost open letters, their worlds kept spinning without those crucial updates from me--and will continue to do so even if I never post again.

So I'm no longer allowed to shoulder the burden of entertaining you all.  I'll write or I won't, but I refuse to allow what is a small concern to a very limited number of people be blown out of all proportion because of my own sense of self-importance and secret need for martyrdom.

And with that giant imaginary weight lifted from my shoulders, I can give attention to other ridiculous reactions that I have to things.

• Approximate rhyme is disgusting.  
• Combining chocolate and peanut butter is an evil plot to ruin my life.
• Someone touching my ears will literally kill me.
• Grown people who use chat or text language on facebook are dead to me.

No, really, I feel this strongly about all these things.  Why?  Because reacting strongly is so fashionable right now.  Have you noticed this?  No one can just have an ordinary like or dislike or preference or mild annoyance.  Everyone reacts in superlatives, and I'm just as bad as anyone, but sometimes at least I catch myself at it and attempt to dial back the manufactured drama of every little thing being the absolute worst or best.  Because honestly?  One two things in the world can be the absolute worst and best, and assigning disproportionate reactions to marginally important things diminishes the value of everything.  Plus it's the most annoying thing in the world--so stop doing it.

things about which i'm not blogging (a list)

• stress-induced eyebrow twitching--it's like hiccups for your eye
• graduate school--doing homework is just as unpleasant as I remembered, but I might be secretly good at this whole library school business
• at least three interesting and blog-worthy recent craft projects
• my internet-crush on Pinterest which led to the aforementioned recent craftiness
• staving off illness through sheer force of will--because I certainly haven't been taking good enough care of myself to have had only the tiniest brush with that cold
• Harry Potter haikus--the most recent addition to my "things I wish I hadn't quit" blogging list
• work insanity (because if I let myself start, I'll never stop)
• 6 a.m. womens' bible study at PV--because I love Jesus enough to iron my clothes at night and wake up before dawn
• getting to see my moma all the time (or every two weeks) and it still not being enough
• manufactured drama that might have made you laugh

and a brief list of things about which I shall blog (or die trying):

• a Holy Grail-style quest to find the best burger in Central Arkansas starring many of your favorite blog characters (and CST#1BF)

39 days

Forty days is a biblically significant amount of time. Thirty-nine days is nothing special.  At the time of this typing, I am somewhere between thirty-nine and forty days away from the opening of the Main Library's Teen Center.  Today I feel so overwhelmed by it, it might as well be a flood or a fast or some other horrendous-sounding f word. (No, not that f word, people.)

When I get busy at work, I like to make lists.  It wastes time I could be spending getting actual work accomplished, but then when I do get around to the work, I get to mark things off.  There is nothing satisfying in this life like marking things off a list.  It's triple satisfying in Sharpie.  When I make my Teen-Center-opening lists, they are deceptively simple.  The word interviews, for instance.  Just ten little letters comprising one brief list-item that represents at least fourteen separate meetings with fourteen qualified individuals.  When my list says "pack up desk," it can't completely convey the labor-intensive misery of going through all the accumulated junk that is drawn by some unforeseen yet powerful force to my little north-facing cube, but I am determined to rid myself of the unnecessary when I make the move.

I can't even bring myself to put "say goodbye to the Michael Jackson mime" on my list because I'm not sure I've got the strength to face it.  As much as I'm looking forward to a certain office upstairs, I know there's nothing out that south-facing window that can compare to the glory of my splash of river-view, the bustle of the River Market, and good ol' Michael Jackson mime.  I think I'll miss you most of all, Scarecrow.

There have been some truly awesome moments in my list-making.  Like the email I got just after I crossed off "select gaming equipment needed" telling me that my budget was nearly double what I'd spent so far.  I must admit we're going to have a ridiculously nice gaming set-up.

And even when the list additions have been tedious and exhausting and downright daunting, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that the fact that they're all so much mine is heady stuff.  My decisions, my preferences, my opinions that carry weight, my mistakes to make.  I can't take all the credit, and you should all regularly remind my gigantic ego to dial it back, but the being-in-charge-ness is pretty dang exciting.  Exciting and overwhelming and filling-up my life enough that I finally had to break down and really blog about work, something I declared long ago would be a sign of the end times.

Oh, well.  It's been nice knowing you.  Hoping for rainbows at the end of my forty days.

words, words, words

I've been surprised in my life to discover that not everyone thinks about words in the same ways that I do.  Whenever I mention liking or not liking the sounds of certain words, I'm often met with blank stares or occasionally surprise that I have opinions about words.  But it seems obvious to me that all words are not created equal.  There are tons of words I enjoy for their meaning or connotation, words that I admire because they do their jobs as words.  That's not what I'm talking about.  Usually when I say I love or hate a word, it's based solely on how that word sounds when spoken aloud (or occasionally how it looks written).  These are the thoughts I have.

A brief list of words I don't love:

• moist (say it out loud . . . you're disgusted too, right?)
• yummy (anyone over the age of two who uses this word should be severely punished)
• hubby (it's not even a word but try telling my facebook friends that)
• pulsate (useful on a blender but no fun to hear or say)
• guitar (I'll admit that when I was a kid, I had a very hard time pronouncing guitar, and I guess I'm still holding a grudge against it--and sometimes I have to concentrate very much to say it correctly even now.)

Some words I love to hear:

• staunchly
• acclimate
• rotund
• brusque
• paranoia

Neither of these lists are meant to be exhaustive.  Just a taste.  What about you imaginary readers?  Do you have opinions about words?

happy birthday to the popster

The Popster turns another year older today.  I don't think he's very sensitive about his age, so I'll go ahead and tell you that the particular age he's turning is old, old, very old.  If I'm doing the math correctly, it's sixty-four, which is not such a bad age to be if you're a Beatles fan, but I'm not sure the Popster is (and yet I still find it in my heart to love him.  So generous of me.)

Friends of the blog may have noticed that the birthdays of our young folk are events, causes for gatherings and cakes and pictures and presents and stuff.  Sometimes that even happens for the not-so-young folks, but if there's a birthday in our family that gets neglected, it's the Popster's (and also Will's which is in two days, but he's just an in-law, so does it really even matter?).  Part of the problem with the Popster is that he inconveniently has all his holidays in the summertime.  Father's Day was just a few weeks ago (and I nearly always see him for Father's Day), and his anniversary (and my moma's obviously) was last Thursday, so we all spend the better parts of June and July trying to figure out multiple gifts for him, and it's a task.  He's not the easiest man for which to shop (constructing sentences to avoid ending them in prepositions is so obnoxious).  Plus it's hot in July which brings on lethargy.  Plus we've just never made a habit of gathering for his birthday, and in my heart it's because he really doesn't care about making a big deal, but I'm rapidly becoming riddled with guilt as I type out our neglect of him.  Sorry, Popster.  I did at least give you your present already.  That's love, right?

Before I mire myself in guilt any more (or make myself look any worse in your eyes with my bad daughtering), let me tell you my five favorite things about the Popster, so you can love him just as much as I do.

5.  The Popster is a fixer.  When he bought our new Kentucky home, it was old and neglected and the second floor was almost all open attic space, but my dad (with my moma's help) did all sorts of updating and building of upstairs rooms, and now it's a lovely home.  He did all the work himself--except maybe the plumbing.  He really doesn't like plumbing.  He can also fix cars and give advice about washing machine hot-wiring over the phone.  He's a careful and precise sort of guy in most ways, which makes him that much better at fixing things--or taking such good care of his stuff that it doesn't require fixing.  I think he's probably where I got my own handiness.  We are just two fixers fixing things, the Popster and I.

4.  He doesn't show much emotion, does he?  Okay, I have to explain that sentence with a story:  a few years ago, the Popster was making some large purchase.  I can't remember what it was now because that's not the funny part of the story.  Maybe it was a boat or a lawn mower or a four-wheeler or something--the Popster likes vehicles.  Anyway it was the sort of purchase that required the assistance of a salesman and some waiting around and talking.  So the Popster had put in a significant amount of time with the little salesman but had not formed the sort of attachment that the salesman clearly would have liked.  The Popster didn't want to trade secrets or braid hair or become facebook friends.  He was keeping things professional.  At some point during the sales transaction, the little salesman asked the Popster for his name for some sort of official form.  My dad's last name is unusual and difficult to spell phonetically, so instead of saying his name, he showed him his checkbook cover which has his full name printed on it.  The Popster's first name is David (though like three of his kids, he doesn't go by his first name), but though the little salesman got his name written down correctly, in further conversation he referred to my dad as Dale.  The Popster chose not to correct him because it just didn't matter to him.  Anyway, after using every trick in his little salesman arsenal, he still hadn't secured a long-term offer of friendship by the end of the sales transaction, so his parting words to the Popster were "You don't show much emotion, do you, Dale?"  My dad answered with a simple "no" and departed forever robbing the little salesman of the joy of winning him over.  We love this story in our family.  At first glance, the Popster is the strong, silent type.  In our family of emotionally overwrought, obnoxiously loud people, he's a man of few words, often solemn, and soft-spoken.  Dale doesn't show much emotion, and sometimes that's just the sort of calming presence we need.

3.  But the Popster is also witty and entertaining when he wants to be.  It's entirely possible that he's funnier than me.  He definitely has a higher funny comment to normal comment ratio.  I think this is the secret to his comedic genius.  My approach, by which I mean the nature of my psychosis, is to spew words nonstop.  I throw every remotely amusing thought I have up against the wall to see what sticks.  As a result, I speak volumes of unfunny things.  But the Popster is more patient and subtle and in control of his tongue than I'll ever be, so he doesn't speak every thought in his head.  But when he does speak:  hilarity.  And since, as faithful readers well know, I live for comedy, it's not wonder I'm the Popster's girl--even when he's making me the butt of his wit.

2.  I've told my imaginary readers the story of how the Popster coined the term Handful to refer to his grandchildren after Thumb was born.  What may or may not have come across in that story is that my dad is bursting with pride over his five grandkiddos.  Before Pointer was born, I knew exactly the sort of Nana that my moma would become--it's very similar to the sort of moma she's always been except with more spoiling.  I didn't know then about the Popster.  He's cuddlier than he seems, but I didn't really see him as a baby guy or even really a little kid guy.  He's spent the past twelve years showing me how wrong I was.  He loves his Handful with intensity, a slavish devotion, and complete delight.  He is calm and patient with them, and they are so drawn to their Popa as a result.  He is a softer, sweeter man because they exist.

1.  Last year I named my moma's decision to marry the Popster as my second favorite thing about her.  And while the things I said about them as a couple and their choice to make our family bear repeating, the more amazing part of their story is him choosing us.  We were not at our charming, most lovable best when the Popster walked into our lives.  The four of us ranged in age from nine to sixteen.  We were loud and ate a lot and sassed our mother and were all suffering more than we would admit from that whole broken home thing in ways from which we wouldn't recover for years.  We were, in every quantifiable way, a bad bet, and even with the way that I idolize my moma, I'm not sure her many fine qualities could overcome all of our scary, needy ones.  Except that he did choose us, all of us.  And if he didn't love us all from the word go, then he at least faked it until he felt it, and he's spent the past twenty-one years being our dad in every single way that matters.  I know some great dads who have fallen in love with their children as tiny newborns, who've raised them and taught them and nurtured them through their entire lives, and it takes a good man to do that.  But men like my dad, who walk into the lives of half-grown, messed-up kids and change their world just by loving them and loving their moma . . . well, imaginary reader, I hope you'll understand why I think they're in a whole other class of fine men.

Happy Birthday to the best man I know.  I don't say it nearly enough but thank you for for making my moma the happiest she's ever been, for seeing how much we needed you, and for completing our family.

five things

Five things that make me happy:
(About a month ago some fb friend talked of making a list of 50 things to be happy about.  I thought I might try it, got as far as what I ate for lunch, and couldn't finish.  I'm going to do better this time--but 50 is still too ambitious for me.)

5.  Well, to honor the original list:  grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches.  It was a really great lunch.

4.  Rainy days.  Everyone I know seems to suffer from season affective disorder, but I am the opposite.  I love clouds and rain and cold.  I especially like when it rains at work because we're surrounded by windows, and I love the watching the sky drama. And since it's ridiculously hot here now, sweltering, miserable, August-style hot, I'm remembering our storm-riddled, mild-temperatured spring with all sorts of fondness. (Well, not the devastating tornado part of it, obviously.)

3. Singing.  Various factors have kept me from my church lots for the past couple of months, but last Wednesday I managed to be there for an entire service for the first time in forever.  There was this spectacularly transcendent moment when we were singing "How Great Is Our God" that managed to restore my spirit in ways that I didn't even realize were needed.  I'm going to remember not to forget to sing.

2.  FitFlops.  My moma bought me these.  I mentioned to her sometime in passing that I thought I would buy some this summer.  The truth is I'm getting too old to wear cheap shoes all the time, and I have long admired Michelle's FitFlops.  So she bought them for me out of the blue because she's so precious.  They're delightfully comfortable, and I don't even mind that they make me even taller.  Typically I don't like shoes that make me taller, but these are great.  Thanks, Moma!

1.  Family.  I couldn't decide if it was even fair to include the soul-filling, constant-comfort kind of happy that is my family in a list where I talk about sandwiches and footwear, but it would be an insult to omit them and the laughter, the belonging, the delight that people I've known my whole life can still surprise me with their strengths and kindnesses. They are mine, and my cup is full and overflowing just from being theirs.

Five things that make me nervous:

5.  Grad school.  It's happening this fall, I guess, though I haven't been officially accepted yet.

4.  Summer Reading Club. It's the most intense seven weeks of my entire working year--plus the even more than most intense six or eight weeks getting ready for it.  Somehow it always sorts itself out, but in the meantime it slowly sucks my will to live, or at least my will to blog. (Only five and a half more weeks to go!)

3.  Awkward situations in movies.  Have you noticed this thing in every comedy made in the past few years wherein all the humor relies on social awkwardness or characters who create ridiculously embarrassing situations for themselves?  It seriously makes me squirm.  I can't take it.  I'm a mess.  I know I shouldn't get so invested in stories and fake people, but it's a thing I do, and it's nerve-wracking.

2.  Tweeting.  Maybe I haven't told you that I'm on the twitters (@sellensam if you want to follow me), but I've been tweeting with some regularity for a few months, and I still find it intimidating.  I think I need to stop following funny people and that will ease the tension.

1. The state of my DVR.  I started falling behind on tv in April and though I've taken some time here and there to try and catch up, there are still two or three shows that have been over for weeks that I can't seem to finish, and the So You Think You Can Dance episodes are piling up.  That's really not the kind of show one should put off, and yet I can't seem to sit down and watch.  In the meantime, the free space percentage on the DVR shrinks daily.


Five things that aren't going my way: 

5.  FHDM has never been a more appropriate name for him, but sadly he's never going to be my future husband.  Donald Miller is engaged to someone who's not me.  I'm sure she's a lovely person as he recently tweeted that she's going to Africa to help children, so I can't even hate her.  So I'm once again taking applications for my future husband.  Fairly minimum job requirements:  must be funny, literate, a multi-millionaire, and willing to let me have my way always.

4.  My Grams is not doing well.  I've not known whether/how to communicate this to pretty much everyone, but how to deal with it on the blog has been especially confusing.  Ultimately, it's a family matter, and while I'm not hesitant to broadcast family stuff normally, I've just gone back and forth on how much I want to talk about this.  But here's the deal.  She's in liver failure, and she's at home and in hospice care.  And she has good days and bad days, and it's not any fun.  On the other hand, I'm going to see her two or three times a week, and that's been mostly nice.  I'm seeing a lot of my family which I also enjoy.  I have a lot of feelings about it, and for once in my spill-my-guts life, I am doing a terrible job of knowing how to talk about it.  So apparently I'm going to do so awkwardly.  Thanks for not judging me too harshly for the awkward. And thanks for the prayers that have been sent up and will continue to be sent up on behalf of her and my family.

3. My house refuses to be trained to become self-cleaning.  I know it could do this--if only it would apply itself.  But alas, I come home nightly, and the same messes I left that morning are there, taunting me.

2.  I fell off the healthy-eating wagon in April, and I can't seem to find the discipline, energy, or interest to get back on. 

1.  I know this five things was my idea, but now I can't think of a fifth go here, and I've ruined the lists.  I guess that could count as something that's not going my way.


Five things I've learned lately:

5.   You can't force funny.  A couple of weeks ago, cousin, scholar, theologian, #1 blog fan suggested a humorous treatment for a topic I was considering writing.  If I could have pulled it off, it would have been perfection (so perfect that I'm keeping it in reserve for another time), but as I tried to write it, it just wasn't funny, and nothing I did was helpful.  So I stopped throwing good humor after bad.

4.  Don't get a haircut without a plan.  I've been growing my hair out for two and half years.  And then suddenly it was a mess.  I never wanted to fix it, it was so long it didn't even make a cute ponytail anymore, and it was smothering me in the oppressive Arkansas heat.  So I decided to get a haircut last week, but I didn't pick a style or find a picture or make a plan, and as a result, I have a mess on my head.  The official length is pretty much what I wanted, but my usual long layers that I need to thin out the ends and make them lay nicely turned into short layers that pretty much guarantee my hair's going to flip and be insane and never lay nicely.

3.  My tastebuds routinely make a fool of me.  Though I've always claimed to not be a picky eater, there have always been certain foods that I didn't like and would never eat.  Lately, I've had opportunities to re-try some of those foods or go hungry, and what I've found is that I like pretty much everything.  Fish is still iffy, and oatmeal is questionable, but lima beans are my new best friend.  Go figure.

2. Sleep is important.  Okay, I knew this one, but lately I've been forcefully reminded.  My sleep pattern is off, and it makes me constantly late and occasionally irrational.  Boo.


1. I don't know everything.  Yeah, I knew this one too, but you can rarely tell by the way I act.  So recently I've been becoming more okay with not knowing everything, and though it's an adjustment, I think it's a welcome change.  I dare say it might eventually make me a better person.  Keep your eyes peeled for that.

happy birthday, thumb

(Thumb is the only of the Handful whose entire life is documented in photos of which I have digital copies, so we're going back to the beginning for this one.  This was the first time I held him, but I almost didn't include the picture because of that funny thing my hair is doing, but ultimately the Ring and Thumb preciousness helped me get over my hair hang-ups.)

Four years ago today, I was wearing yellow (don't ask me why) with hair that clearly wasn't behaving and hanging out in my favorite Lexington hospital meeting my freshly-hatched second nephew.  He wasn't quite as fresh as his sister (Ring) and brother (Pinkie) were when I met them, but that's because this little guy decided to be born in the wee hours of the morning, while I was staying at home with said sister and brother, who at not-quite-four and two weren't up for an all night hospital vigil.  Anyway later in the day, we were at the hospital, and the Popster told me to ask him how many grandkids he had.  I initially resisted, assuring him that I was well aware of the answer, but he insisted, and eventually I caved and asked with a complete lack of enthusiasm, "How many grandkids do you have?"

Almost before the last word left my mouth, he threw his giant hand up in my face, fingers splayed and proclaimed, "a hand-full."  And the collective nickname for my parents' grandchildren, my nieces and nephews, was born, birthed in that Lexington hospital just as much as Thumb was.

That's just one of the many things Thumb has done for us in his little life so far.  Four years is not very long in the grand scheme of things, but it mostly feels like we've had him for longer, that he's been around for much of our lives.  And that probably speaks to the way that his little personality and great big eyes have completed our family.

Thumb, whose eyes have changed from blue to green somewhere along the line, at his first, second, and third birthday parties.

I won't get to see and celebrate with Thumb until this weekend because he, like his brother, had the good sense to be born  near a three day weekend, so we always have his birthday party Memorial Day weekend, but while I wait, let me share with you, imaginary readers, the best of Thumb.

I present my five favorites of a four-year-old:

5.  The speech impediment.  I know it's not going to last--or at least it's not going to be cute indefinitely if it does last--but right now how Thumb talks and messes up sounds is so deliciously endearing.  I don't have any data to back me up on this, but it seems to me that Thumb might have the record for most/longest streak of mispronunciations of any of the Handful, which is only right I suppose considering that a few months ago he surpassed Pointer as having the longest streak as the "baby" of our family.  And truthfully, he's already grown out of so many of those sound substitutions, so I know this special little trait is one that I'll have to savor for now and remember with fondness for years to come.  Here's a ripped-from-real-life example of how Thumb's precious manner of speaking permeates our lives.  Thursday night I was at the hospital seeing Grams, and when I went to leave I asked if she was going to give me a kiss, and she turned me down.  In fact she told me that wasn't going to give me any "wugar," which is how Thumb says (or maybe used to say, as I think initial s's are finally within his grasp) sugar. When even your eighty-one year old great-grandmother who's been through so much lately she barely knows her name sometimes can remember and quote how adorably you say words, it's kind of a big deal.

4.  Another thing that I'm totally digging about the Thumb is his cuddliness.  Even though in so many ways (just wait, we'll talk about them) he's doing his best to grow up way too fast, Thumb is still the sweetest little, loving boy.  And he's pretty decent at spreading that love around.  I completely melt when he sticks his thumb in his mouth (yes, Thumb sucks his thumb--handy, isn't it?) and lays his sweet head down on my shoulder.  He's the best little snuggler, and I'm really crossing my fingers that he doesn't grown out of that one.

3.  This face.  It's more than the fact that he's possibly the most beautiful boy I've ever seen.  It's more than those ridiculous eyelashes or those giant green eyes or even the dimples.  It's how that little face conveys every single emotion without saying a word.  It's about the nods and blinks and grins, the pouts and the silly faces and the heart-breaking tears.  He's got maybe the most expressive face of anyone I've ever known.  Too bad for his daddy, but with that face, professional poker-playing is not in this boy's future.

2.  Despite the way we baby Thumb and the sweet way that he indulges us in that, he has always been an independent little soul.  He will fearlessly try to do anything that the big kids are doing, and "me too" has been an oft-repeated refrain around his house since he was able to talk.  If Ring and Pinkie can do it, then Thumb is convinced that he should be able to as well, no matter what.  Whether it's playing ball or doing homeschool work, Thumb is determined to run with the big boys, and I love the confidence and determination and single-mindedness that drive all those me-toos.  And of course, a big chunk of his desire to to be big is the fact that he adores his big brother and sister and cousins.

1.  When Thumb was a little baby, the grown-ups in our family were having a discussion about being funny.  Yes, we talk about being funny in our family quite a lot.  In this particular discussion we had two opposing theories.  Shane thought that based on the anecdotal evidence of the sibling groups we knew that second-born children are the funniest in their families.  I put forth the notion that it was actually youngest children, regardless of number.  I was using as my examples most of the same sibling groups as it seems most of the siblings groups we know are two-kid families.  The major point of disagreement was that Shane, as a second-born, considered himself the funniest of our siblings, and I, as the youngest, insisted that it was me.  I did have to agree that my moma, who is technically the second-born of three, is definitely the funniest of her siblings, but since she's a twin, she's only minutes away from being the youngest.  Shane then tried to use Pinkie, who was a hilarious two-year-old (and is still a very funny six-year-old), as the example to prove his point, but I maintained that we couldn't make that call until Thumb was older.  So I've been watching Thumb's comedic development with avid interest  And I'm proud to say (because it proves my theory) that I think he's the funniest of the three of them.  He teases and jokes and tricks and has been doing so since he could talk (though he couldn't manage it without that expressive face).  One of his specialties is keeping a funny thing going, like the time a very solemn and demure "me not know" was the only answer he would give to his Aunt Michelle, just for the sake of hilarious torture.  And I'd like to offer a friendly kick in the pants to the first person to laugh at "in myyyyy notebook," thus making it Thumb's longest-running and most adorable joke.  As we all should know by now, humor is my real love language, so this kiddo has me in the palm of his hand.

And as a bonus treat, I've got a video of Thumb doing what he does best:  being adorable.  Here for your pleasure, you get the voice (though he doesn't mispronounce anything too badly), the expressions, and a peek of that teasing humor.  Please pardon how loud I am and the ridiculous amount of background noise. Enjoy:

Happy birthday to my little Thumb.  Aunt Ellen is going to love all over you this weekend!

*****A late-breaking update:  Once again a Peep has just managed to ensure that I don't get to attend her child's birthday party.  Today is already Peep Amy's birthday (Happy Birthday!) and tomorrow is the 4th birthday of her Carter, so I already consistently miss their birthdays.  Earlier this afternoon, Peep Monica brought our newest little Weep into the world.  I'm not going to give you any more details because I don't know if they've fully announced it to everyone they want to know yet.  I'll come back and update it with pertinent info once I've got the all-clear.*****

17 reasons why i haven't blogged lately (in random order)

1.  I spent exactly thirty minutes at my desk today.  Granted I came to work an hour late and took a longer-than-normal lunch.  but I also left somewhere between fifteen and forty-five minutes late.  I didn't work the public service desk at all.  I'm not saying I usually blog at work, but I do type out quick ideas as I have them sometimes, and I typically take all my "breaks" and lunch at my desk which gives me time to work on my informative and entertaining posts.  And if I work the public service desk at a slow time, I do sometimes indulge in more personal internet pursuits (a category into which blogging falls) while I'm waiting around on someone to assist.

2.  I ate lunch today with Peeps Monica and Martha and the tweeps.  It was a thousand times better than lunch at my desk with the internet.  I was having way too good a time to blog--plus I spent a decent fraction of the meal baby juggling with Martha, and I can't feed myself, hold babies and blog all at once.  I'm no super woman.  P.S. My storytime wooing of the tweeps has not yet won them over to adoration of me, but I shall not be daunted.

3.  Often lately I've been eating lunch and taking breaks in our staff lounge (despite what I said to the contrary in the previous two excuses).  My library friend Philip gave up going out to lunch for Lent, so he's been bringing his lunch, and I've been bringing my lunch almost daily since the beginning of the year, so we've been eating together upstairs more.  Sometimes Bob comes too.  We bring our handwork (they're both knitting hats at the moment) and work on our various projects.

4.  It's spring break round these parts, and we're doing alliterative programs for school kids every day this week.  On Movie Monday, I passed out popcorn and showed How to Train Your Dragon to fifty-one library friends.  On Tie-Dye Tuesday, I calmly dealt with fifty-three library friends and the rainbow-hued carnage they left on the tables, floor, and my hands.  Today on Wii Wednesday I played and supervised and refereed twenty-two library friends through multiple games for three hours.  These unexpected well-attended pursuits have pushed me much closer to exhaustion than I should be, and while that's embarrassing, the fact remains that sitting down and stringing clever words together just wasn't in me (still isn't, but here you go anyway).

5.  As I previously mentioned I've been working on balance and moderation in my personal interests and pursuits, so at home I've been reading and cooking and keeping all the dishes washed and watching tv as a family with Jess, and I've been trying to spend less time glued to my laptop.  Providing intellectually stimulating blog fodder is the unintended casualty of moderation--though those unfinished home projects as yet remain unfinished.

6.  I mentioned in #3 that I'm bringing my handwork to lounge lunches and breaks with Philip and Bob, but I haven't told you about what I'm doing.  I'm actually working on a post all about it, so I'm not going to tell you until that's ready, but my steady work on this undisclosed craft project has given me something to do with my hands besides typing out blogs for you, and I am really excited about showing you someday.

7.  I had an interesting and busy weekend.  Our church is doing some painting and cleaning at an elementary school while they're out on spring break, and I went to help clean and tape for the paint crews on Saturday.  One of the areas we painted was the cafeteria where they had to work around a mural depicting Carson-Dellosa kiddos following the posted cafeteria rules.  It was a mostly really cute except that it was unfinished.  I thought it a shame that our freshening and sprucing would still be overshadowed by the half-finished people (that weren't on our list of approved fixes).  I asked if I could come back the next day and finish them, so our man in charge called someone from the school, and I got permission to do it.  I went back on Sunday to finish the job and recruited some help, and we almost got it done.  My sidekicks completed the mural on Monday while I was at work slinging popcorn for the movie-goers.  Jess went and took pictures, and it turned out beautifully. 

8.  I would have liked to be able to blog about the successful selection of a winning NCAA tournament bracket, but alas, my hopes have been dashed for another year.  I'm currently tied for last place in a pool of ten friends and family members.  It shouldn't surprise me any longer that I'm terrible at these picks, but it's always disheartening.  All of my Final Four teams are still in the running, so although I still have a higher-than-some points potential, I've missed many, many significant picks.  I suspect that this week's games will drive the final nail in my bracket's coffin.  It doesn't help that cousin, scholar, theologian and #1 blog fan, who admitted to making mostly arbitrary picks is in first place.

9.  Laziness.

10.  A lack of task commitment.

11.  A stronger than normal tendency to ramble senselessly.  Seriously, every time I try to post something lately, it turns into a torrent of messy words, and I abandon the effort.

12.  A short attention span.

13.  An almost unreasonable desire to do nothing but eat Dove truffle eggs.  Until Saturday I hadn't found them at a store this Easter candy season, but now I know that Walgreens has them, and the desire to purchase and consume them is a constant presence in my life.  In the spirit of balance and moderation (not to mention my healthy-eating choices), I'm trying to keep this from becoming an obsession, but it's a near thing.

14.  Time seems to be passing at a fairly high rate these days.  I don't mean to let days (or weeks) go by between posts, but somehow even when I have ideas at the ready for my next posts, days pass in a blur with no writing to show for it.  I'm sure this is just one more sign of my increasing age.  It goes nicely with my flights of nostalgia, the giant gray streak in my hair, and my geriatric tendency to be set in my ways.

15.  I've been spending more time talking to Jess.  She's nice, but sometimes I get too busy or cranky or in my head to talk to her.  That's being a loser-y sort of friend, and I'm working on that.  I like talking to her when I'm not being too much of a jerk to do so.

16.  A sense of guilt that because of the increasingly significant time elapsing between posts, I need to bring my A-game for the imaginary readers lurking here, desperately hoping for some new communication from me.  When all I can produce is pointless drivel (for instance:  more than a dozen lame and needy excuses for my lack of posts), I have a difficult time allowing myself to post such substandard fare . . . usually (though obviously not tonight).

17.  I have become overwhelmed with my clear  and unhealthy dependence on the adverb.  What if I use more than my allotment of adverbs while blogging, and I'm forced to go on without them?  It boggles the mind and cripples my productivity.  Please reassure me that this is not my fate, faithful readers.  For my sake, for the sake of the blog, for all of us. 

sometimes i'm surprised by the things i care about

A couple of weeks ago I was minding my own business when cousin, scholar, theologian, #1 blog fan left me a voicemail wondering if Al Green should really be included on any list of the top five greatest love songs.  Apparently everyone on the radio asserted that he should, and CST1BF disagreed, or at least thought he should disagree.  At that time, he requested my thoughts on this category of music.  My immediate response was to write it off.  I'm quite terrible at such lists, and I don't especially favor love songs.  But then I started thinking about it, and I couldn't stop until I'd done some research and some list making of my own.

I think greatest lists are difficult for me for a couple of reasons.  First I'm not objective enough to separate my personal favorites from any sort of empirical standard of excellence.  And even if I give up on that and just go for detailing my favorites, I'm still fairly horrible at picking favorites partly because I'm indecisive, partly because I always have a nagging feeling I'm leaving out something important I haven't even thought of, and partly because I suspect that those items that don't get picked for my list will feel sad and neglected and left out, and I just can't live with that on my conscience.  But CST1BF keeps nagging, and I hate to see my research go to waste, so here I am posting about great love songs.

The interwebs provided a jumping off point with several lists from various sources, but it soon became clear that my idea of a good love song didn't necessarily mesh with the lists, and I began to see the need for categories, so that's how this will be organized.  There will be some overlap, and several songs that could appear in multiple categories, but I'll stick 'em where I think they belong.  Also CST1BF asked me for a list of five, so I'm claiming all these lists have five songs in them whether they actually do or not.  I can't cut any more, so you'll get the number you get.  I'm going to attempt to link all my selections to youtube versions.  I'm quite certain based on my experience in the research process that some of the videos that people have made to accompany the songs will be fairly horrible, but I wanted you to hear the songs in question, so please just listen and don't judge the song by the video.  One final warning before I start naming names:  any term such as great, greatest, best, etc. that may be used is strictly my opinion which I admit isn't worth much at all.

5 Best Country Love Songs

I may have mentioned previously that I was raised on country music in my rural upbringing, and for many years in my youth it was my preferred genre.  These days I don't particularly have a favorite genre, and I don't currently listen to country music, but what I do know about current country tells me that nothing's come along lately that could topple any of these songs:

"Something that We Do" Clint Black:  Robyn does an extremely awesome Clint Black impersonation, but I've never seen her try this song.  Maybe I don't want to because I really love it in a serious way, and her impression is far from serious, unless you count being seriously hilarious.  Under normal circumstances I would, but not when it comes to this song.

"Where've You Been" Kathy Mattea:  I sometimes have mixed feelings about story songs, but this song makes me cry.  It's so sweet.

"I Believe in You" Don Williams:  This song doesn't need me to say anything about it.  That's how phenomenal it is.  I kinda wanted to include the Don Williams song "You're My Best Friend" too, but I thought that might be overkill.

"I Will Always Love You" Dolly Parton:  Say whatever you will about Whitney, you will never convince me that her version can touch this one.  Dolly owns this song.  She wrote it about Porter Wagoner (HI!), and that's sort of precious enough, but then in Best Little Whorehouse when she sings it to Ed Earl, it's heartbreakingly perfect.  As you'll see in these lists, I prefer my love songs to be a bit more happily ever after, but I'll make an exception for this song any time.

"It Was" Chely Wright:  I feel like people are going to question this choice, but I love this song.  It's so strong, maybe even forceful.  And in the music video (which I've been careful to link to here), she cries the most gorgeous tears imaginable.

"One Friend" Dan Seals:  To be clear, the word love does not appear anywhere in the lyrics of this song, but it's an achingly beautiful description of love, and I'll dare anyone to say otherwise.


5 Best 80s Love Songs

Though country music ruled where I'm from, pop music of the 80s is an intrinsic part of the soundtrack of my childhood as well, thank in no small part to having teenage siblings during those years.  There are probably tons of songs from this decade that can stand on their own on any great love song list without qualification, but I think sometimes the complete 80s-ness of their sound holds certain songs back, but I can't stop loving them anyway.  Here are my five favorites that scream 80s.

"Time After Time" Cyndi Lauper: I'll be the first to admit that I don't 100% get the words of this song, but I still love it and think it's beautiful.  So there.

"Crazy for You" Madonna: I'm not necessarily a huge Madonna fan, but I'm crazy for this song.

"Eternal Flame" The Bangles:  Do you remember that episode of Gilmore Girls from season 1 when they go to a Bangles concert?  And they sing this song?  If Madeleine and Louise weren't interrupting with all their drama, it would have been perfect.


"Faithfully" Journey:  These days Glee has made Journey such a thing that I almost left them off the list, but my affection for Journey (thanks to my moma's slight obsession with Steve Perry) is so long and far-reaching that I knew I couldn't leave them out.  And I've always liked "Faithfully"more than "Open Arms," which is probably the more obvious Journey choice.

"Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" Starship:  We used to tape episodes of Friday Night Videos, and my moma still has some of those VHS tapes at her house, which are enjoyable as much for the vintage commercials as the videos.  But I can remember this video from that era, and this song still stirs warm, fuzzy memories from my childhood.


5 Most Overplayed Love Songs that I Love Anyway

I almost called this list guilty pleasures, but I don't think I should feel any guilt or shame for loving these songs.  I think that most of these are songs you hear quite a lot because they are so great, but since familiarity breeds contempt, it's easy to discount them simply because they're everywhere.  The ubiquitous nature of several of them makes it feel like putting them in the actual "greatest" list is a cop-out.  Thus I've created this "overplayed" list.  And don't worry--despite my secret love of Peter Cetera's voice "You're the Inspiration" will not be appearing here as a favorite.  Even I have my limits.


"Your Song" Elton John:  I've always loved this song, but I'll admit that Moulin Rouge intensified my feelings towards it.

"Can't Help Falling in Love with You" Elvis:  He is the King, after all, so of course, he needed some representation here, and I think this is his best love song.

"Bridge Over Troubled Water" Simon & Garfunkel:  When other people sing this song, it's the worst kind of cheese, but I do have a vast affection for the original version.

"I'll Be There" Jackson Five:  Michael Jackson was a brilliantly talented man.  Crazy as all get-out, but talented.

"Maybe I'm Amazed" Paul McCartney: Yummy, yummy song.


5 Great Love Song Duets
I originally only had four lists, but they kept growing longer and longer, and I began to notice that they were starting to choke on duets, so I culled a few from those other lists for this special category.

"Endless Love" Lionel Richie & Diana Ross:  This song could just as easily fit in the overplayed list, but it's brilliance as a duet even outshines the fact that it's played out. (I first linked to a live version where Lionel had an especially impressive afro, but the sound on it was tinny, so I chose instead a series of Disney clips set to this song.  It's precious.)

"I Knew You Were Waiting (For Me)"  Aretha Franklin & George Michael:  I love this unlikely pairing, and I love this song.

"After All" Peter Cetera & Cher:  Peter Cetera is the voice of 80s love songs, so feel proud that I was able to get him down to just one mention ("Glory of Love" was on the 80s list until really close to the end).  This duet is the reason I own the movie Chances Are (on VHS).

"Always" Atlantic Starr:  Of course, the most famous rendition of this duet was by Peeps Paige and Becky at Fall Getaway 2007, but my love for this song goes back to the original Atlantic Starr version. (Finding a decent video of this one was more difficult than picking the songs themselves.)


"Nobody Loves Me Like You Do" Anne Murray & Dave Loggins:  This was my moma and the Popster's wedding song, so even if it was awful it would remind me of the blessing that their love has been to our family for the past couple of decades.  But Anne Murray's voice is so delicious, and the song is far from awful.  

My Vision of the 5 Greatest Love Songs
Categories aside, these are the best of the best (of the best, SIR!) for me.

"The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face" Roberta Flack:  Let the record show that I do possess at least a little objectivity, which is to say I didn't just flip through my own music collection and pick songs I own or listen to constantly.  I know this song and like it, but definitely don't own it or count it as a favorite, but I think objectively it's a tremendous combination of powerful lyrics and a hauntingly romantic melody.

"You've Got a Friend" James Taylor: (I specifically chose this video for JT's long flowing hair.)  I'm beginning to see how these choice I'm making say a lot about what I think is important in love.  This is definitely one of those cases.


"Love Never Fails" Brandon Heath:  This is the newest song on the list, and it's possibly a bit chancy to place a song that's only three years old among so many others that have stood the test of time, but its inclusion demonstrates the power that this song has for me.  The lyrics are just beautiful and perfect.

"I Love You for Sentimental Reasons" Nat King Cole:  This man's voice was made for love songs.  "When I Fall in Love" lands on all sorts of greatest love song lists, but I think this one is a better love song.


"I Will" The Beatles:  I had a bit of work narrowing down the list to just one Beatles song, but this one is my favorite of their love songs.  Feel free to argue the case of your preferred Beatles tune below.

"God Only Knows" The Beach Boys:  I am not above admitting that this song came to my attention primarily because it's played during the closing credits of Love Actually.  I've been sort of surprised how many movie connections these songs have for me.

Well, the good news for CST1BF is that I didn't include Al Green.  The bad news is that it took me over two weeks to still not be able to fully answer the question.

if my blogger account were a twitter account

Lately it seems all I'm capable of stringing together are brief snippets more suitable to Twitter's 140 character limits rather than the robust and complex posts to which my faithful readers have become accustomed.  I had big plans for a specific Christmas post, but it was fairly time-consuming, and I ran out of Christmas season before I could devote the appropriate amount of time to its completion.  Maybe next year.

And my determination to complete that posting project coupled with a rather hectic holiday season derailed any good intention of taking one of those snippets and developing it into adequate blog fodder.  So since it's a new year and excuses are for losers, I'm going to roll with what I've got.  Today I present a post in tweet-sized chunks: thoughts to close the old year and kick off the new in 140 characters or less.

• I have no idea how I managed to do twelve posts between December 9th and 24th in 2009.  I could barely spell my name  in December 2010.
• Because I'm a shallow selfish girl, all I want to talk about are all the Christmas presents I got, but no one would enjoy that but me.
• I have a twitter account but no inclination to ever tweet.  I blame my stubborn insistence on using my phone only as a phone.
• If I tweeted, I'd retweet FHDM's plug for today's Resolution blog.  Worth the read.
• Speaking of  FHDM, I got my Blue Like Jazz associate producer t-shirt in the mail last week.  First gift from my soulmate.  Score.
• For the first time since 2005, I didn't place in the top two in my girls fantasy football league.  I came in fourth.  Lame.
• My moma's preacher says no one cares about the fantasy teams of others.  People listen so they can talk about their own teams. He's right.
• When I came home tonight, my freezer door was standing wide open.  No idea why.  I'm not blaming Jess.  Throwing away food is depressing.
• I just found an unopened bag of chocolate-covered pretzels.  I'm considering eating only the recommended serving size.  Think I can do it?
• I feel the need to brag about accomplishing mundane tasks that any normal person would be embarrassed to admit they'd left undone.
• My Christmas tree is still up, but I've only been home a day and spent most of it sleeping and at work.  I once took my tree down at Easter.
• I did not make anyone (including myself) cry at work today.  Some days it's the best outcome for which I can hope.
• Michelle got a fancy new camera for Christmas from my brother-in-law.  She's a good sharer.  I like her.
• If Jess reads this post, she will hate it.  She's anti-twitter.  Hey, she just walked by.  Hi, Jess.
• I have a story about my landlord that lots of readers already know.  I can't tell it without being insensitive with these character limits.
• At one point today I had approximately sixteen tabs open in my browser.  I have internet ADD.  Bad.
• I almost wrote about how cold my feet are-then I realized that I was in the tweet trap: talking about what doesn't matter as though it does.

That's when I knew it was time to quit.  And if you were waiting to hear about the pretzel outcome--I did indeed eat only one serving (eight measly--but delicious--pretzels).  It's good to be back.

happy birthday, blog o' mine

Has it really only been a year since my extreme hubris got the better of me, convincing me that people cared about reading my opinions?  Some days it feels like I've been doing this--or not doing this--forever.

And I know it's only been seven or eight posts since I took my imaginary readers down memory lane in my 100th post haikus, but milestones are important.  I'm a girl who loves traditions and nostalgia, and I'm not sure if the term nostalgia can really be applied to such recent events, but it's my party and I'll cry if I want to.

Fans of the blog may be aware that I occasionally post birthday blogs in honor of a random sampling of my friends and family.  There's very little rhyme or reason to who gets picked and who doesn't, which is a pretty shoddy way to do business.  Sorry about that, people who feel left out.

But in true birthday fashion, I'm going to tell you my five favorite things about the blog.  I considered doing my five favorite posts or something commemorating favorite comments, but the five general favorite things fits the birthday blog tradition more fully.  So here you go.

5.  I love the little monetary surprise that comes along with the blog's participation in the amazon associates program.  Faithful fans (or anyone who follows that link) will recall that I enrolled in the program in March, just because I'm greedy, and I think it's been fairly painless for us all.  Several of you, who I assume were going to shop at amazon anyway, follow links from my blog to the amazon site to place your orders.  When you do that, I get anywhere from 4-15% of your purchase price, just for referring you there.  Plus it's one more statistical report for me to pore over on a monthly basis.  In the seven months or so since I put the ads up on my site, I've probably made between $30 and $40 dollars, which seems ridiculously wonderful to me for the tiny amount of work that went into setting it up.  I'm banned from looking at my full Associate report right now because word on the street is that someone bought me a Christmas present from amazon through my site, but I can still go to the general account page to check on my balance for the month.  So far in December alone, I've earned $72 in referral fees.  Thank you!  I'm blown away by that amount, and I promise to do something ever so nice with my windfall in your honor.

4.  And since I mentioned statistics, I'll proclaim Google Analytics and its various measures of site traffic as another blogging favorite.  I know I've said this before, but it's insane how much satisfaction I get from knowing how many people come to the site and where they're from, what pages bring in the most visitors, the methods that folks use to find me, and the keywords searched that lead people to the opinions.  In the past few months, the keyword stats have been compromised because after I mentioned things that people googled to find me in a conversation, a couple of avid readers started testing what they could search to bring up the blog.  But Google Analytics fills up a very nerdy place in my heart.

3.  I love how the blog has often given me a sense of purpose and direction this year.  There have been countless ways in which I've come up short from the big resolutions to missed deadlines to time wasted on frivolities to the general disorganization of my life, but there have also been moments and instances when I've followed through and gotten some crap done just so I could share it here.  In a life severely lacking in motivation, I never guessed that this forum would provide a sense of accountability.  But it has.  I hope that this unexpected blessing continues to push me in the next year as well.  Feel free to help in that regard, imaginary readers.  Speaking of which . . .

2.  You.  Of course, I'm thankful, for you, not-so-imaginary readers, from the loyal fans to the casual readers who pass this way.  Without you, I'd have no Google Analytics to study.  I'd have no comments to read and enjoy and hold to my heart.  Without you, I'd just be talking to myself, and as much as I have and will continue to profess all sorts of self-love, if you weren't here reading what I'm writing, I'd be every kind of a loser.  I love that you're here reading these words, and I love that several of you will post a comment and encourage me to keep doing this.  I can say without hesitation that if my precious family and several close friends hadn't come along and created my little fan-base, I would have hung up my blogging hat months ago.  (Hmmm . . . now I want a blogging hat--maybe I'll use my $72 on that.)  And though I don't really think that any of my repeat readers are strangers, it's been nice for those who don't know me in real life to stop by and stay for a while too.  I feel like most of the time the ellen portrayed here in the blog falls into a neighborhood several miles south of likeable, so the fact that anyone sticks around is amazing and special to me.  My cup is full and running over from the blessing that is your presence here, dear readers.  Thank you.

1.  I love having a collection of my writing from the past year.  I know I've been spotty at times in keeping up with things, and in some ways, I thought that I'd have done something more or different.  But overall, I'm just thrilled that I've stuck around at all--that there are at least a few posts from each of the past twelve months.  I should be embarrassed to admit how often I got back and read older posts, but I feel no shame.  I love having a way to go back and review what's been going on in my life.  Often when I need to find an old post to link to something new I'm doing, I get caught up in reading old favorites.  I know it's painfully and ashamedly obvious that I'm completely self-absorbed already, so I'll go ahead and admit to you, that I think I'm a pretty great writer.  I don't love everything I've written here, and occasionally I'm shocked at how mundane the writing can be, but when I'm firing on all cylinders, I'm witty and eloquent and, dare I say, readable.  I never gave any thought to reading my own blog, but as it turns out, it's kind of a lot of fun.

Happy Birthday, ellen has an opinion!  Your name is still ridiculous, but I love you anyway.

silent gratitude isn't much use to anyone

I'd like to take credit for the title of this post, but I stole it from G.B. Stern.  Thanks, Gladys, for letting me borrow your words.

But in the spirit of being useful and because I complain way too much, it seems like an appropriate moment to proclaim some thankfulness.  Lots of my facebook friends have been doing daily thankfulness statuses for the whole month.  I didn't, not because I'm ungrateful but because I'm lazy.  I did quite by accident mention something for which I was thankful on Monday morning, so I've followed up with that the past couple of days. Let's start there, shall we?  Please pardon the third person pronouns.  It's facebook's fault.

Ellen is thankful  . . .

" . . .for her Monday mornings which ease her back into work mode as gently as possible."  I don't have to go to work until 11 on Mondays because it's my late night.  I love that schedule of getting to sleep a bit late or having time to get some other things done in the mornings.  Plus it gets my late night out of the way early in the week, so it's not hanging over my head.  Of course, I'm usually so grouchy about having to go back to work, I don't fully appreciate these benefits, but this week I did.  


" . . . that the zombies in her dream weren't too aggressive."  Okay, that one's just silly, but when I woke up from a rather unsettling dream Tuesday morning and hopped right on the internet as is my custom, the lingering creepiness of the dream was soon overshadowed by the relief that it hadn't been grosser or more horrifying.  


" . . . that she gets to spend a few nights away from the yippy dog next door."  Poor yippy dog next door.  How I hate her.  Apparently Mr. Next Door rescued her from some terrible treatment, and he had her for months before she could make sound.  I felt all sorts of sadness for her when she was an abused dog who couldn't bark.  Such a tragic little figure, she was.  And then her comfort and confidence grew, and she was healed enough to bark. every. morning.of. my. life.  Now I feel all sorts of sadness for myself.  But I'll be spending the next four nights at Shane's, so her yippiness will be someone else's Thanksgiving blessing.

And now for some previously unpublished thoughts on gratitude:


I'm thankful . . .


 . . . for a ten day free preview of the HBO channels going on now.  I've filled our DVR with movies, watched a couple on demand, and have done a bit of work to catch up on all the past year or more of not watching movies.  For the holiday weekend, we are actually getting a free preview of the top tier package which includes access to all the premium channels, but the DVR is full, and I'll be a bit too busy basking in the warm bosom of my family to worry about it.  


 . . . for the interwebs.  I will proclaim, with no concern for how lame it makes me, that the internet makes my life better in countless ways.  And since my infrequent and often unreadable posts come to you via internet, imaginary readers, I'm sure you join me in my gratitude.


 . . . for my four-year-old Bible class.  My little children are precious and funny and even the ones who don't listen and make me work up a sweat are so sweet and charming.  I could tell you loads of stories that seem hilarious and special to me but would probably just bore you and go nowhere.  But trust me that the dozen and a half or so preschoolers who hang out with me on Sundays are the best part of most of my weeks.


 . . . for pajama pants.  I'm thankful for the rest of my clothes too, most of the time, but I'm always overwhelmed with gratitude when I can put on my pajama pants.


 . . . for Peeps and Meeps and Weeps.  Friends so precious and dear that miles and years cannot ease the hold they have on my heart.


 . . . for cell-phone alarm clock capabilities that allow me to never have to wake up to a blaring alarm again.  Nothing ruins a morning like a startlingly loud honking noise.  "Linus and Lucy" is ever so much nicer.

. . .  for chocolate-covered pretzels.  How they complete my life.
 
 . . . for her.  And him.

Seriously.  Don't they look like the sweetest, best parents anywhere ever?  They so are.



  . . . and for her (and her again) and her and her and her and her

. . . and for him and him and him (and him again even with that face) and her

. . . and for him and him and him and her and him and him and him

  . . . and for him and her and her and her and him and her (and for the her inside that striped sweater that we wouldn't meet for another five months) and him and her and him and her and him.

. . . for traditions that hold on even when they become crowded and noisy and logistically unsound.  And for the love and understanding that allow those traditions to be reevaluated and adapted into ever more good times.  For last times and first times.  For nostalgia and anticipation.  For family and every special thing that the word evokes.


 . . . for you, dear readers.  For being here and reading this and making all my Google Analytics dreams come true.


Love & stuff,
ellen

send help

Please disregard the fact that I never finished my vacation diary.  Day 8 has photos, and my computer and blogger get crabby with each other when there are pictures involved--nothing that can't be overcome, but it's tedious.  And I'm lazy. 

So until the technical difficulties are worked out, let's pretend like you're not still waiting on ten days of my boring life in vivid, painful detail--or a long-promised post about the National Zoo--or five months' worth of project 4:4 posts--because if we think about those things, imaginary readers, we'll begin to feel so inadequate that we won't be able to continue blogging.  Ever.

And I don't think any of us want to live in a world where I'm not free to ramble ad nauseam and publish those ramblings for a group of people with nothing better to do than read them.  Do we?

Yesterday I had a sinking spell at work.  That term might carry some serious connotation for some of you, so let me assure you that I was in no real danger, unless my general grumpiness was the final straw in sending one of my coworkers on a killing spree.  That didn't happen, so don't worry.  But I was tired and grumpy and didn't feel equal to even the smallest tasks that I should have been checking off my list.  So I called Jess and told her that I needed something to look forward to in my miserable existence and demanded that she think of something for us to do when I got off work.  The great thing about Jess is that she always takes my petulance in stride.  She said she wanted to eat Chinese--which was exactly the thing that I wanted to do.  Some days we really are two peas in a multiracial pod.  Renewed by the promise of a good time later (and by the chocolate banana shake that I went and got over at Bookends--the library's cafe that's just across the parking lot), I muddled through the rest of my afternoon.

After dinner, we went to a store to buy a gift for someone who reads this blog, so I cannot divulge any more information about that, but my deliberations wasted a sizable chunk of our night.  When we got home, Jess continued the Carol Burnett Biography that she had started before I got home from work, and I reacquainted myself with the internet after our prolonged three hour separation.  Over dinner we had discussed some of our tv shows that are premiering in the next week or so, so after Carol and a Bio on Russell Crowe, we started checking the DVR settings for our returning shows and started a dialogue about new shows.  We also went through and cleared out the DVR settings for canceled stuff, and I finally gave in and deleted the NCIS-rerun recordings from USA, Sleuth, and Ion.  It was a pretty big deal.  Obviously I'm in a place right now where I don't want to do anything but watch tv--up-to-date readers may recall that I'm currently watching Gilmore Girls on DVD, and I can report officially, though it will spoil a vacation post later, that I'm completely caught up on NCIS now.  My tv obsession is no revelation, but even I was surprised by how appealing I found nearly all of the new show synopses that I read online last night.  The fact that I've been watching more commercials than normal lately and my susceptibility to marketing probably also had a hand in this, but I'm picking up something like forty-seven new shows.  In true tv-obsessed fashion, I made a spreadsheet to organize it all, and then we started adding series recordings to the DVR.

Thank goodness for U-Verse.  We can record up to four shows at one time, but I think we only have more than three for a brief half-hour on Thursdays.  We do push it to three shows at once on several different occasions though.  Several of the new shows I added last night are on a definite trial basis.  I don't think I have the time or energy to devote to this many shows--I'm not Robyn, after all, but until I experience them a little, I couldn't say no to them either.  I'm going to attempt to recreate the list here without benefit of my spreadsheet.  Feel free to try and talk me down from the crazy-obsessed ledge I'm on, but don't be surprised if my commitment to self-indulgence cannot be shaken. 

Mondays:
Returning shows:
Chuck--I adored Chuck when the show first premiered, but season 2 never really sucked me in.  I haven't quit it yet because Adam Baldwin is hilarious and wonderful, but I'm not cartwheeling over this one.

How I Met Your Mother--There have been moments during this show's run when it's been my absolute favorite thing on tv.  But if we don't meet the mother--for real this time--soon, I'm going to slap Ted Mosby like Barney's never been slapped.

Castle--None of the die-hard Nathan Fillion fans I know (except maybe Joshua) are into this show, but I love him and it, and if they'll give Beckett a decent hairstyle this season, I think we'll all be very happy together.

New shows:
Mike & Molly--I don't have high expectations here, but I love Melissa McCarthy enough to endure loads of things.  If Scott Patterson would get a new tv show and I could see Lorelai, Sookie, and Luke on a weekly basis, my cup would be full.

The Event--Blair Underwood is the President.  And I don't know why, but I'm a big Jason Ritter fan.  We'll see how it goes.

Lone Star--This is going to be pure, soapy trash, but I can't stop myself from watching an episode or two.  Stupid FOX and their stupid pervasive marketing.

Shows that I don't watch but my DVR does:
Chase--Actually Jess is only watching it because the Jenny (her sister) is an extra in an episode.  She claims once we see her, she'll quit watching it, but I'll probably get sucked in by then.

Tuesdays:
Returning shows:
Glee--This show is the cautionary tale for why I'm adding so many shows.  As I explained to Jess last night, there have been times in my life when I've unilaterally decided not to add any new shows when the tv season began, so that I could cut down on my devotion to the small screen, but I missed out on some really cool stuff that way--that I later picked up on DVD, so don't cry for me or anything.  If I had had that attitude last season, I would have missed out on being a die-hard Gleek from the beginning, and I never would have felt like a real fan.  And that would be a tragedy of epic proportions.

Parenthood--I've always liked that Steve Martin movie on which this show is loosely based.  Plus Peter Krause who I've loved in Sports Night and Six Feet Under? And Lorelai Gilmore (sorry Lauren Graham, but I can't call you anything else)? And Dax Shepard?  There was no way I wasn't picking this one up last March.  Lucky for me the DVR was trained to remember it because I hadn't bothered to find out when it was premiering until after the first new episode aired on Tuesday.


New shows:
NCIS--I'm calling this a new show only because it's never been in my regular tv season routine before.  My obsession with the very special agents of NCIS is well-documented, so I won't say more.  But trust that I could.

Raising Hope--This is a major trial-only pick.  Recording it means I won't ever miss the end of Glee, so I'm going to give it a shot.

Running Wilde--Two words:  Will Arnett.  I'm excited about this one.

No Ordinary Family--I think this is the moment when I turned into a lunatic.  I was reading about this show and feeling like it definitely wasn't my thing.  And then I read the name Julie Benz, and I can't allow a Buffy/Angel alum to be in a tv show that I don't watch, except that I didn't watch Dollhouse, so don't believe anything I say.  Except that I'm watching No Ordinary Family.  Believe that.

Shows that I don't watch but my DVR does:
The Good Wife--I don't watch this necessarily, but Jess does, and I have sometimes watched it with her.  It's got lots of people that I've loved in other stuff.

Wednesdays:
New (to me) shows:
The Middle--Robyn goes on and on about this show, and I love Janitor.  So I'm going to go against one of my most deeply-held beliefs and pick up a show during the second season without having caught up on the first season.

Modern Family--see above, but change the "Robyn" to "Jess" and the "Janitor" to "Jesse Tyler Ferguson" and the "love" to "enjoyed watching in the terrible 2006 CBS sit-com The Class."  Plus I'm a follower, and I apparently care about Emmy wins now.

Actual new shows:
Undercovers--I was intrigued.  It's JJ Abrams.  Jess wants to watch it too.

The Whole Truth--Maura Tierney ended up being my favorite thing about ER.  I loved Abby more than Carter.  And I have some serious Rob Morrow love, but I have no idea why.

Better with You--I don't have a good reason for watching this show, aside from Kitty Forman.  But it made the list to try out. 

Thursdays:
Returning shows:
Bones--I am still smarting from the betrayals of last season, but Bones remains in my top three shows.  With all the competition, David Boreanaz is going to have to marry me soon if he wants to stay at the top.

30 Rock--Oh, Liz Lemon.  How I've missed you.

The Office--Gotta savor my last season with Michael Scott.  I'm not sure I'll be able to watch if they continue without him next year.  He's not even close to my favorite, but I can't imagine how they'll go on without him.

Private Practice--I'm still so mad at them for [SPOILER ALERT] killing Dell, and it's nothing but soapy trash, but Taye Diggs sure is pretty.

New shows:
My Generation--I've been burned by other takes on this class-reunion-where-are-they-now type theme (the aforementioned The Class and FOX's 2005 Reunion), but I'm still drawn in and eternally optimistic.  Plus I've never seen Mehcad Brooks in a show where I didn't like him.

$#*! My Dad Says--I don't love William Shatner, but I do love cussing.

Outsourced--Well, I'm pretty bummed that Parks and Recreation isn't coming back until mid-season, but I'm not going to hold that against the show taking its place.  NBC Thursday comedies and I go way back, so I'm going to give it a shot.

Shows that I don't watch but my DVR does:
Grey's Anatomy--Meredith is the single most annoying person in the world, and that's why I'll never watch this show.

Community--Despite my Joel McHale/The Soup love, I couldn't get behind this show.  I tried and failed, but Jess likes it.

Fridays:
I promised myself long ago that I would never watch a show that comes on Fridays, but I broke that one a couple of years ago for Moonlight, which got stupid and canceled anyway.  I'm breaking the promise again this season, because as I explained to Jess last night when asked when some show came on, "I don't know, but the DVR does." 

Returning show:
Good Guys--I've only watched a couple of the episodes that aired this summer, but I'm going to catch up one of these days.  I love Bradley Whitford in a totally unprofessional way.

New show:
Blue Bloods--Apparently mustaches are the thing that Friday night tv was missing, but Bradley Whitford and Tom Selleck are doing their part to fix that.  Plus Donny Wahlberg is in this show, and Donny was always my favorite New Kid.

Sundays:
I don't watch anything on Sundays, but my DVR does:
Desperate Housewives--I let Entertainment Weekly convince me to start watching this show in its first season, and I've regretted it ever since.  But Jess watches it.

So forty-seven new shows may have been an exaggeration, but not much of one.  What TV shows are on your must-watch list?  I hope, dear friends, it's not as many as mine.  Someone needs to be out there living while I grow pale and (even more) lethargic in front of the TV.

*****Note to Hailey:  I was already composing this post before your comment giving me permission to keep blogging, but I appreciate the stamp of approval to forge ahead nonetheless.  See you in a bit.*****