We went to go see 300 last night. It was truly an experience. Blood. Gore. Violence. Love. Hot guys. Women with impossibly perfect hair. All set in Ancient Greece. How can that go wrong, I ask you?
And, it can't.
I love this stuff. I know it goes against all of the female stereotypes (but when have I jumped on the bandwagon of stereotypes?), but those kinds of movies are what I really enjoy watching. Don't get me wrong, I'm happily sitting here watching American Dreamz, laughing at goofy, mildly attractive Hugh Grant, but once I got over a boy who dumped me by watching Blade (you know, the fabulously cheese Wesley Snipes vampire hunter movie?).
At work this morning, I talked to one of the resident comic book experts and 300 fan, a married mother of two boys. I said to her, "I wonder if your husband and my boyfriend realize how lucky they are to have women like us who actually want to go see these movies."
And she said, "Oh yes, Geek girls are hard to find."
"We're one in a million."
"Absolutely."
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Thursday, March 29, 2007
IHM
While I almost think I should give myself a free pass on the fifth posting about inspirational women (hey, three best friends, three work influences...), I also know that there is one more woman that I simply must discuss.
In truth, I've already talked about her in the past, but I honestly can't say enough.
I'm Catholic to the core (though I may wander from church to church, you can't take the Catholic out of this girl), and our Blessed Mother is truly the one who guides me from day to day.
From the giant rosary hanging over my parents bed to the numerous medals that hang around my neck, Our Lady is a constant presence in my life. Through becoming a mother at the tender age of 14, she became the mother of us all. And it is Mary to whom I pray for guidance when I'm having trouble navigating the many layers of complexity involved in being a good woman. How do I be a good girlfriend? Will I ever become a mother? The Blessed Mother is the one who helps me face these questions.
Walking by myself through Berkeley late at night in college? Oh, I can't count how many Hail Mary's I said to myself. Unable to fall asleep, my mind aching with worry? Again, the number cannot be counted.
In my relationship now, it's the Blessed Mother who provides me with patience, who helps me understand that being a woman isn't always about getting roses on a random Tuesday but also about being able to be there to listen to a man finally express his worry about not having his new job yet or not feeling entirely himself in this (still) new state. Mary helps me to realize that being a woman is not about giving up who I am but about being the best me I can.
Even when I doubt whether or not I want to keep attending my current parish (mostly, I haven't attended it regularly since November), I never doubt whether I want to rid my apartment, my car, my life of rosaries.
Even since December, when I asked if I could put God's plan before my own, as Mary did, I have felt myself changing, felt myself understanding that God's plan for me is the one that matters more. I might feel frustrated after a particularly hard day at work or worried about what will happen in the next few months, in the next year, but I really think I have gotten better at accepting that there is a power greater than myself who knows the plan for my life. And it is only with Mary's help that I have been able to do that.
She is a shining example of womanhood, and if I can be even a fraction of the woman she is, I will consider my life well-lived.
In truth, I've already talked about her in the past, but I honestly can't say enough.
I'm Catholic to the core (though I may wander from church to church, you can't take the Catholic out of this girl), and our Blessed Mother is truly the one who guides me from day to day.
From the giant rosary hanging over my parents bed to the numerous medals that hang around my neck, Our Lady is a constant presence in my life. Through becoming a mother at the tender age of 14, she became the mother of us all. And it is Mary to whom I pray for guidance when I'm having trouble navigating the many layers of complexity involved in being a good woman. How do I be a good girlfriend? Will I ever become a mother? The Blessed Mother is the one who helps me face these questions.
Walking by myself through Berkeley late at night in college? Oh, I can't count how many Hail Mary's I said to myself. Unable to fall asleep, my mind aching with worry? Again, the number cannot be counted.
In my relationship now, it's the Blessed Mother who provides me with patience, who helps me understand that being a woman isn't always about getting roses on a random Tuesday but also about being able to be there to listen to a man finally express his worry about not having his new job yet or not feeling entirely himself in this (still) new state. Mary helps me to realize that being a woman is not about giving up who I am but about being the best me I can.
Even when I doubt whether or not I want to keep attending my current parish (mostly, I haven't attended it regularly since November), I never doubt whether I want to rid my apartment, my car, my life of rosaries.
Even since December, when I asked if I could put God's plan before my own, as Mary did, I have felt myself changing, felt myself understanding that God's plan for me is the one that matters more. I might feel frustrated after a particularly hard day at work or worried about what will happen in the next few months, in the next year, but I really think I have gotten better at accepting that there is a power greater than myself who knows the plan for my life. And it is only with Mary's help that I have been able to do that.
She is a shining example of womanhood, and if I can be even a fraction of the woman she is, I will consider my life well-lived.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
The Best Friends
It's still Women's History Month over here at Pink Cereal and Raspberries. I've talked about my mommy, one of my great-grandmothers and the three librarians who make it possible to come to work each day. Now, it's time for those women who make me want to be a better person.
She Knows What She Wants - Though we had a few classes together as freshmen in high school, we didn't really become friends until our sophomore year. She had to come to school early, because her sister at zero period drama. I had to come to school early, because my dad started work at 7:15, and he was my only source of transportation. So, we would walk around the nearly empty high school campus for the twenty minutes or so before other students started to arrive. Eventually, our two social groups merged, and we kept up our friendship through the rest of high school. We're still friends today, after four years of college, five years of grad school (well two for me, and five and counting for her), and despite never having once lived in the same city. Why is she an influence? Because she never stops chasing her dreams, even if those dreams have to change shape. For as long as I've known her, she's wanted to be a doctor. She worked all through college, she got a masters to help strengthen her application, and then, because of a grant she received to get her masters, she had to apply to Ph.D. programs. At that moment, she was faced with a choice. Retake the MCAT and apply to medical schools along with Ph.D. Programs, or truly pursue a different career? Sure, she'll still be "Doctor Best Friend in the Whole Wide World," but she won't be an MD. She struggled with the decision, and eventually realized that a Ph.D. would probably allow her to make more of an impact on the world than an MD. Brilliant as she is, several schools fought over her, and she turned down the one that would likely provide her with the best career options, because she didn't want to be seven hours away from her family (a family that loves and takes advantage of her). She has altered the content of her dreams, but she realized early on, and without bitterness, that was part of growing up. And I respect her more than she can possibly ever imagine.
College Glam Girl - From the outside, she looks like she only cares about purses. And possibly shoes. And that her boyfriend drives her around in a fancy car. But if you get into her world, you realize how much more there actually is to her. Of course, I've known this since we were seventeen year old college freshmen. And though I've known it nearly nine years, I keep learning it over and over again. She buys $800 purses, because they make her feel special, but those purses don't stop her from calling her mother each day, from playing mediator between her mom and (slightly) crazy little sister, between her mom and (now re-married) dad, between her grandmother and nearly anyone else in the family. The high heels don't stop her from being the one who handled all of the details that required handling after her boyfriend wrecked his car (not his fault). She called the insurance company. She researched cars and handled much of the negotiation for his replacement vehicle. She's dealt with me when I was angry and tired and lonely after a long illness. She takes care of everyone in her life, so what's wrong with an $800 bag once a year?
Anne of Green Gables, meet Diana - Anne of Green Gables always wanted a bosom friend. That one friend to whom she could tell everything and who would tell her everything in return. The friend who would call her on her nonsense and love her no matter what. I have a friend like that. I talk to her everyday (at least via e-mail). We hang out whenever we can. Through each other, we work out our life issues and problems. If I have a problem, I will go to her to help me find the solution. Someone asked me recently why it's her I go to, why not another friend, or why tell a friend at all? Well, she will tell me what I already need to know. She will give me advice based on how much she knows about me, not based on what she would do in my situation. But besides being my go-to-girl for just about everything, I respect and admire the way she lives her life. Honestly. She makes decisions based on what will be best for everyone. She gives her parents significant sums of money, despite the fact that she's not quite in a place in her career where that is comfortable for her. She mediates between her sister and her parents, her brother and her parents, her brother and her sister, and still manages to go see her parents once a week for dinner. She knows her priorities and sticks to them. She has a sucky job that she needs to quit, but she won't do that until she fulfills her responsibilities. She won't leave her employers in the lurch. She has changed a lot in the nearly seven years I've known her. She's grown up. She's taken care of herself. She's learned to love. And I'm lucky to know her.
How do these women influence me? Well, they make me realize that no matter how much I might want, on some days, to have an easier life, no such thing exists. We have to live our lives in constant motion. We must love our families, handle our jobs and make compromises all along. Compromise is not a failure, compromise is being brave enough and mature enough to recognize a good choice from a selfish one.
She Knows What She Wants - Though we had a few classes together as freshmen in high school, we didn't really become friends until our sophomore year. She had to come to school early, because her sister at zero period drama. I had to come to school early, because my dad started work at 7:15, and he was my only source of transportation. So, we would walk around the nearly empty high school campus for the twenty minutes or so before other students started to arrive. Eventually, our two social groups merged, and we kept up our friendship through the rest of high school. We're still friends today, after four years of college, five years of grad school (well two for me, and five and counting for her), and despite never having once lived in the same city. Why is she an influence? Because she never stops chasing her dreams, even if those dreams have to change shape. For as long as I've known her, she's wanted to be a doctor. She worked all through college, she got a masters to help strengthen her application, and then, because of a grant she received to get her masters, she had to apply to Ph.D. programs. At that moment, she was faced with a choice. Retake the MCAT and apply to medical schools along with Ph.D. Programs, or truly pursue a different career? Sure, she'll still be "Doctor Best Friend in the Whole Wide World," but she won't be an MD. She struggled with the decision, and eventually realized that a Ph.D. would probably allow her to make more of an impact on the world than an MD. Brilliant as she is, several schools fought over her, and she turned down the one that would likely provide her with the best career options, because she didn't want to be seven hours away from her family (a family that loves and takes advantage of her). She has altered the content of her dreams, but she realized early on, and without bitterness, that was part of growing up. And I respect her more than she can possibly ever imagine.
College Glam Girl - From the outside, she looks like she only cares about purses. And possibly shoes. And that her boyfriend drives her around in a fancy car. But if you get into her world, you realize how much more there actually is to her. Of course, I've known this since we were seventeen year old college freshmen. And though I've known it nearly nine years, I keep learning it over and over again. She buys $800 purses, because they make her feel special, but those purses don't stop her from calling her mother each day, from playing mediator between her mom and (slightly) crazy little sister, between her mom and (now re-married) dad, between her grandmother and nearly anyone else in the family. The high heels don't stop her from being the one who handled all of the details that required handling after her boyfriend wrecked his car (not his fault). She called the insurance company. She researched cars and handled much of the negotiation for his replacement vehicle. She's dealt with me when I was angry and tired and lonely after a long illness. She takes care of everyone in her life, so what's wrong with an $800 bag once a year?
Anne of Green Gables, meet Diana - Anne of Green Gables always wanted a bosom friend. That one friend to whom she could tell everything and who would tell her everything in return. The friend who would call her on her nonsense and love her no matter what. I have a friend like that. I talk to her everyday (at least via e-mail). We hang out whenever we can. Through each other, we work out our life issues and problems. If I have a problem, I will go to her to help me find the solution. Someone asked me recently why it's her I go to, why not another friend, or why tell a friend at all? Well, she will tell me what I already need to know. She will give me advice based on how much she knows about me, not based on what she would do in my situation. But besides being my go-to-girl for just about everything, I respect and admire the way she lives her life. Honestly. She makes decisions based on what will be best for everyone. She gives her parents significant sums of money, despite the fact that she's not quite in a place in her career where that is comfortable for her. She mediates between her sister and her parents, her brother and her parents, her brother and her sister, and still manages to go see her parents once a week for dinner. She knows her priorities and sticks to them. She has a sucky job that she needs to quit, but she won't do that until she fulfills her responsibilities. She won't leave her employers in the lurch. She has changed a lot in the nearly seven years I've known her. She's grown up. She's taken care of herself. She's learned to love. And I'm lucky to know her.
How do these women influence me? Well, they make me realize that no matter how much I might want, on some days, to have an easier life, no such thing exists. We have to live our lives in constant motion. We must love our families, handle our jobs and make compromises all along. Compromise is not a failure, compromise is being brave enough and mature enough to recognize a good choice from a selfish one.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Who Needs a High School Reunion, Anyway?
So, I've gone and done it. I've built myself a MySpace. There's no telling how long I'll keep it up, but for now I'm at least *mildly* obsessed. I have a whopping 4 friends, but they are people I actually know in the real world, so I don't feel too bad about it.
And I've discovered that in order to fulfill my voyeuristic tendencies, all I need to do is look up people I went to high school with, and I can find out all about what they're doing with their lives. I can find out that the friend I had a crush on for two years is so not cute now (whether or not he was actually cute in high school is up for debate), and he sounds suspiciously like my sort-of-ex, who cared about music and thought about music and lived in a music-only world. And you thought the guys I freaked out over had nothing in common! Clearly, I have a type. And that type is the "smart musician." Gack! I guess I *am* dating within my type.
Anyway, I only looked up a couple of old friends, but they linked to other old friends, and I found out a lot that I would have learned at a high school reunion (not that I was really going to go, anyway). So, MySpace has solved whatever linkering inkling I had to go to said reunion.
I know that almost no one is "in a relationship," and the ones that are don't make me want to call my best friend and gossip about it. I see that people have moved out of state - like far out of state. I also see that everyone is essentially who they were in high school.
Oh, he's still in a band? That makes sense.
She's getting a master's in costume design? Yep, perfect place for her.
Me? Oh, I'm a librarian, and I doubt that would surprise anyone.
But mostly, MySpace just left me with this weird feeling. I found a lot of people I know a long time ago, and it was odd to get answers to questions I didn't even know I had.
And I've discovered that in order to fulfill my voyeuristic tendencies, all I need to do is look up people I went to high school with, and I can find out all about what they're doing with their lives. I can find out that the friend I had a crush on for two years is so not cute now (whether or not he was actually cute in high school is up for debate), and he sounds suspiciously like my sort-of-ex, who cared about music and thought about music and lived in a music-only world. And you thought the guys I freaked out over had nothing in common! Clearly, I have a type. And that type is the "smart musician." Gack! I guess I *am* dating within my type.
Anyway, I only looked up a couple of old friends, but they linked to other old friends, and I found out a lot that I would have learned at a high school reunion (not that I was really going to go, anyway). So, MySpace has solved whatever linkering inkling I had to go to said reunion.
I know that almost no one is "in a relationship," and the ones that are don't make me want to call my best friend and gossip about it. I see that people have moved out of state - like far out of state. I also see that everyone is essentially who they were in high school.
Oh, he's still in a band? That makes sense.
She's getting a master's in costume design? Yep, perfect place for her.
Me? Oh, I'm a librarian, and I doubt that would surprise anyone.
But mostly, MySpace just left me with this weird feeling. I found a lot of people I know a long time ago, and it was odd to get answers to questions I didn't even know I had.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
The Lovely Ladies of the Library
While there are women in my life who have influenced me beyond measure, there are just a few specific women who led me to my career as a librarian.
The Big Boss - She's in charge of the library where I work. No, she's in charge of the library SYSTEM. She's been a librarian for over thirty years, and she has risen gradually to the top, but she's no devil wearing Prada. Actually, she's probably one of the nicest people I've ever met, coupled with just enough sarcasm to let you know that she's genuine. I was her assistant, and while I hated being an assistant, I never hated assisting her. When I saw that she was a librarian and in charge of building new libraries, meeting with high-ranking officials and otherwise making big changes in our community, I knew that I wanted to pursue a library career. She works way more than forty hours a week but still has time to meet with friends, have a couple of attention-needing cats and is happy with herself and her life. She's also one of the most graceful people under pressure. She won't give in to frustration. She never once slammed down the phone. She might tell me to take a message if someone on her "list" called, but she would never think of cussing someone out or causing a scene. She is graceful, gracious and genuine, and it was an honor to work for her.
The Wacky YA - This woman made me want to become a Young Adult Librarian. I was wavering on deciding on academic librarianship (though if anyone in the public library asks, I won't mention that little blip in my decision making process), children's librianship or young adult librarianship. But the Wacky YA? Oh, she made the decision easy. She invited me into a committee meeting just to "observe." Later she told me that it was her alterior motive to recruit me to the YA side of things. She cares a tremendous amount about the teens with which she works, but she also keeps a nice perspective on things. She knows that she's fast approaching 40, wears crocs and has two kids under the age of six. She's no teenager, anymore, and she never tried to be. But she always avoided being a stoic, strict librarian. She is perky and sarcastic and friendly and hopeful. Now, she has made the decision to be an on-call librarian, so that she can spend more time being a mom while her kids are young, and while I miss her tremendously, I applaud her decision. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't mind being her when I grow up.
The School Librarian - Although I met this woman in my first month as a librarian, she seems to think that I'm her mentor, but it's quite the opposite. While I can indoctrinate her on some of the basics of collection development, she teaches me to be rebellious, to come out of my shell and try something different. Watching her with her students, I realize that I need to make an effort to actually talk to the teens in my library, to make them feel welcome, to get to know them a little bit. Granted, that's harder in a public library, but still, watching her work makes me want to be outlandish and completely open to what it means to be a YA Librarian. There are parts of me that still want the teens to thing I'm cool...she's let that go and accepts that they think she's quirky and wonderful...and, of course, by letting it go, her cool factor rises exponentially.
Yep, those three have been my greatest career influences. Does it seem like I should have included a professor? I would like to, but I would be lying. While my professors taught my the skills of the job, it's the Big Boss, the Wacky YA and the School Librarian who taught me what it really means to be a librarian.
The Big Boss - She's in charge of the library where I work. No, she's in charge of the library SYSTEM. She's been a librarian for over thirty years, and she has risen gradually to the top, but she's no devil wearing Prada. Actually, she's probably one of the nicest people I've ever met, coupled with just enough sarcasm to let you know that she's genuine. I was her assistant, and while I hated being an assistant, I never hated assisting her. When I saw that she was a librarian and in charge of building new libraries, meeting with high-ranking officials and otherwise making big changes in our community, I knew that I wanted to pursue a library career. She works way more than forty hours a week but still has time to meet with friends, have a couple of attention-needing cats and is happy with herself and her life. She's also one of the most graceful people under pressure. She won't give in to frustration. She never once slammed down the phone. She might tell me to take a message if someone on her "list" called, but she would never think of cussing someone out or causing a scene. She is graceful, gracious and genuine, and it was an honor to work for her.
The Wacky YA - This woman made me want to become a Young Adult Librarian. I was wavering on deciding on academic librarianship (though if anyone in the public library asks, I won't mention that little blip in my decision making process), children's librianship or young adult librarianship. But the Wacky YA? Oh, she made the decision easy. She invited me into a committee meeting just to "observe." Later she told me that it was her alterior motive to recruit me to the YA side of things. She cares a tremendous amount about the teens with which she works, but she also keeps a nice perspective on things. She knows that she's fast approaching 40, wears crocs and has two kids under the age of six. She's no teenager, anymore, and she never tried to be. But she always avoided being a stoic, strict librarian. She is perky and sarcastic and friendly and hopeful. Now, she has made the decision to be an on-call librarian, so that she can spend more time being a mom while her kids are young, and while I miss her tremendously, I applaud her decision. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't mind being her when I grow up.
The School Librarian - Although I met this woman in my first month as a librarian, she seems to think that I'm her mentor, but it's quite the opposite. While I can indoctrinate her on some of the basics of collection development, she teaches me to be rebellious, to come out of my shell and try something different. Watching her with her students, I realize that I need to make an effort to actually talk to the teens in my library, to make them feel welcome, to get to know them a little bit. Granted, that's harder in a public library, but still, watching her work makes me want to be outlandish and completely open to what it means to be a YA Librarian. There are parts of me that still want the teens to thing I'm cool...she's let that go and accepts that they think she's quirky and wonderful...and, of course, by letting it go, her cool factor rises exponentially.
Yep, those three have been my greatest career influences. Does it seem like I should have included a professor? I would like to, but I would be lying. While my professors taught my the skills of the job, it's the Big Boss, the Wacky YA and the School Librarian who taught me what it really means to be a librarian.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Lost in Dessert
Alright, it's time for game night on Saturday.
And I'm in charge of bringing dessert.
Anyone out there have any recipes that they feel like sharing....?
I can go complicated...I can go simple...but it just needs to taste good, you know?
And I'm in charge of bringing dessert.
Anyone out there have any recipes that they feel like sharing....?
I can go complicated...I can go simple...but it just needs to taste good, you know?
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Random Observations from This Weekend
1. It is oddly comforting to not have to be the one who comforts the girl who's freaking out. I've been the girl who's freaking out. I've had friends freak out. Being the outsider last night was a blessing.
2. I am so glad that I hardly drink at all. Watching the women in San Francisco tripping drunk over themselves, I just felt so incredibly relieved that I just don't do that.
3. Who knew I would be able to have such a good time with four people from Oklahoma?
4. Clearly, I have misjudged the midwest.
5. Escaping St. Patty's Day festivities without having to drink either whiskey or guiness is a lovely, lovely thing. I don't drink whiskey, and I'm not a huge fan of beer. It's nice not to have to deal with peer pressure.
6. Flamboyant waiters at crappy but expensive Italian restaurants should not assume that just because we are a party of five and will be charged an automatic 18% gratuity that they can ignore us for 20 minutes at a time and then be rude when we ask politely for more sauce for the calamari.
7. The homeless men in San Francisco can be a little too forward when it comes to telling women what they appreciate about their bodies.
8. It is rather entertaining to watch three people who have never been to San Francisco wander blindly towards the Tenderloin and then ask why it is necessary to turn around and go back to the hotel.
9. When men in a bar start saying the floor is too sticky, it's a good choice not to buy anything and to simply leave.
10. Sleeping on the floor makes my hip bones hurt.
11. It sucks to have to go to work the day after having an evening out.
12. Sometimes there is nothing like a Noah's bagel and cream cheese.
13. I do love my boyfriend, and there is a distinct possiblity that he loves me, too.
14. Though it took a few weeks to get used to, my relationship is better now that Wine Guy has his own place.
15. I enjoy crappy teenage movies like She's the Man, more than I, a well-educated 26-year-old, should.
16. Talking to Irene does me a world of good, and now that I have more evenings to myself, I get to do that more often :).
17. Starbucks coffee doesn't suck as much as I tend to think it does.
18. A nap after a hard day at work does wonders for my state of mind.
19. How did I miss watching Alias when it was on originally?
20. As much as I love getting out and about in the world, I realize more and more that I don't want to live in a city.
2. I am so glad that I hardly drink at all. Watching the women in San Francisco tripping drunk over themselves, I just felt so incredibly relieved that I just don't do that.
3. Who knew I would be able to have such a good time with four people from Oklahoma?
4. Clearly, I have misjudged the midwest.
5. Escaping St. Patty's Day festivities without having to drink either whiskey or guiness is a lovely, lovely thing. I don't drink whiskey, and I'm not a huge fan of beer. It's nice not to have to deal with peer pressure.
6. Flamboyant waiters at crappy but expensive Italian restaurants should not assume that just because we are a party of five and will be charged an automatic 18% gratuity that they can ignore us for 20 minutes at a time and then be rude when we ask politely for more sauce for the calamari.
7. The homeless men in San Francisco can be a little too forward when it comes to telling women what they appreciate about their bodies.
8. It is rather entertaining to watch three people who have never been to San Francisco wander blindly towards the Tenderloin and then ask why it is necessary to turn around and go back to the hotel.
9. When men in a bar start saying the floor is too sticky, it's a good choice not to buy anything and to simply leave.
10. Sleeping on the floor makes my hip bones hurt.
11. It sucks to have to go to work the day after having an evening out.
12. Sometimes there is nothing like a Noah's bagel and cream cheese.
13. I do love my boyfriend, and there is a distinct possiblity that he loves me, too.
14. Though it took a few weeks to get used to, my relationship is better now that Wine Guy has his own place.
15. I enjoy crappy teenage movies like She's the Man, more than I, a well-educated 26-year-old, should.
16. Talking to Irene does me a world of good, and now that I have more evenings to myself, I get to do that more often :).
17. Starbucks coffee doesn't suck as much as I tend to think it does.
18. A nap after a hard day at work does wonders for my state of mind.
19. How did I miss watching Alias when it was on originally?
20. As much as I love getting out and about in the world, I realize more and more that I don't want to live in a city.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
What I Could Say
I could tell you about how I'm going to the city for my first ever St. Patty's Day celebration (oh, don't get me wrong, I'm just Irish enough to have eaten Corned Beef and Cabbage cooked my French grandmother for most of my life, I've just never done the official San Francisco pub crawl).
And I could tell you that the promise of a drink called the "Irish Car Bomb" has me feeling a bit leary, since I'm not much of a drinker to start with, and when I am, it's not usually whiskey I'm enjoying (I'm way more Polish than I am Irish, and if hard liquor is required, it will be Vodka, the beloved drink of a depressed nation).
Instead, I will tell you that I love warm weather. I love the spring. At the moment, I love California in all its glory. I love eating outside. I love late dinners. I love getting to know new people, even if my first inclination was to stay at home and watch a DVD, snug with my cat purring in my lap.
I wil tell you that a skeezy customer checked out my rear end and my legs, and I wanted to slap him across his smarmy face, but decided that a) it wasn't worth losing my job over and b) that would only encourage him.
I will tell you that Saturdays in the library are freakishly fun. That, although this may be the caffeine coursing through my veins, we actually start singing in the library on Saturday mornings before we open. Last week, it was "Go Tell it On the Mountain." This week it was, "A Spoonful of Sugar," and "Forgiveness" (i.e, "even if, even if, you don't love me anymoooooore."). There is something magical about being in the library before it opens on a Saturday morning. There are fewer staff members, no supervisors and people feeling simultaneously giddy that it's the weekend and bitter at having to be at work.
I will tell you that I love when one of our daily customers sits down at the reference desk and asks if I have any movie recommendations. I like it even more when she takes my suggestions!
I will tell you that I am itching to get off of work and go have an adventure with my boyfriend and his visiting high school friends in San Francisco.
I will tell you that talking with Irene on the phone on Thursday night did wonders for my disposition.
I will tell you that although I love being in a good mood, I find it decidedly difficult to get any work done when I'm in one quite this good.
And I could tell you that the promise of a drink called the "Irish Car Bomb" has me feeling a bit leary, since I'm not much of a drinker to start with, and when I am, it's not usually whiskey I'm enjoying (I'm way more Polish than I am Irish, and if hard liquor is required, it will be Vodka, the beloved drink of a depressed nation).
Instead, I will tell you that I love warm weather. I love the spring. At the moment, I love California in all its glory. I love eating outside. I love late dinners. I love getting to know new people, even if my first inclination was to stay at home and watch a DVD, snug with my cat purring in my lap.
I wil tell you that a skeezy customer checked out my rear end and my legs, and I wanted to slap him across his smarmy face, but decided that a) it wasn't worth losing my job over and b) that would only encourage him.
I will tell you that Saturdays in the library are freakishly fun. That, although this may be the caffeine coursing through my veins, we actually start singing in the library on Saturday mornings before we open. Last week, it was "Go Tell it On the Mountain." This week it was, "A Spoonful of Sugar," and "Forgiveness" (i.e, "even if, even if, you don't love me anymoooooore."). There is something magical about being in the library before it opens on a Saturday morning. There are fewer staff members, no supervisors and people feeling simultaneously giddy that it's the weekend and bitter at having to be at work.
I will tell you that I love when one of our daily customers sits down at the reference desk and asks if I have any movie recommendations. I like it even more when she takes my suggestions!
I will tell you that I am itching to get off of work and go have an adventure with my boyfriend and his visiting high school friends in San Francisco.
I will tell you that talking with Irene on the phone on Thursday night did wonders for my disposition.
I will tell you that although I love being in a good mood, I find it decidedly difficult to get any work done when I'm in one quite this good.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Time Has Come
At the start of my relationship with Wine Guy, as with all of my prior dating experiences since starting this blog, I felt compelled to share each new advancement, each new feeling that bubbled up inside me.
That was then, before 53 posts tagged "Wine Guy" (soon to be 54). That seems a bit excessive, don't you think?
Out of respect for my budding relationship, and yes, out of a slight fear that at some point in time he will wander across this blog and read things I have yet to share with him, I've got to cut back on writing about him.
I'm still in love with my fella. There will still be updates should anything significant happen, and he'll still be a "character" in my random adventures in the world.
But for now, I'm calming down about telling y'all about each and every little thing that happens.
If I need help, I will certainly post here to ask for suggestions...
But for my own sanity (and yours, perhaps), a little less Wine Guy and a lot more Sarah.
That was then, before 53 posts tagged "Wine Guy" (soon to be 54). That seems a bit excessive, don't you think?
Out of respect for my budding relationship, and yes, out of a slight fear that at some point in time he will wander across this blog and read things I have yet to share with him, I've got to cut back on writing about him.
I'm still in love with my fella. There will still be updates should anything significant happen, and he'll still be a "character" in my random adventures in the world.
But for now, I'm calming down about telling y'all about each and every little thing that happens.
If I need help, I will certainly post here to ask for suggestions...
But for my own sanity (and yours, perhaps), a little less Wine Guy and a lot more Sarah.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
She Called me Say-Rah
While my mother is certainly the MOST influential person, the most inspirational woman I have ever encountered, I have been fortunate to have some truly awesome women in my life.
One of those women is my Great-Grandma Fincher.
She was 14 when she got married, never learned to drive, raised 5 children and cheated at marbles (otherwise known as parchesi).
And she called me Say-Rah.
Grandma Fincher was from rural Georgia, but she moved to California and then to Arizona, never once losing her accent or her ability to burn the crap out of fried okra or make the best tasting rice pudding you'd ever possibly have.
She was moody. She was funny. She worked in a Rubbermaid Factory. She loved all of her children equally, even when those children refused to love one another.
She was married to her husband for over seventy years, and in a photo from their 50th anniversary, that man is feeling her up. I asked my grandmother if that was a joke, a pose for the camera.
"Oh, no," she said, "Mother and Dad were always like that. They never stopped wanting to be around each other."
Now, that's the kind of marriage I want.
Through world wars, depression, moves across country and any number of other major life changes, my great-grandmother stood her ground. And she loved each and every person in her life.
Her hugs were genuine. Her smile was big. She would recognize the underdog and make sure he got extra love. She recognized that my dad got the short end of any bargain in his family, and she made sure that he knew how much she loved him.
Great-Grandma didn't finish high school, never got a college degree and never once legally drove a car.
But that woman held an entire world together, and she taught me, as a scraggly, scrawny, scrappy member of her family, that it's okay to be who you are, to never apologize for being yourself and that if you want a glass of Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill every night before bed, well, then, honey, you just go on and have one...or two.
One of those women is my Great-Grandma Fincher.
She was 14 when she got married, never learned to drive, raised 5 children and cheated at marbles (otherwise known as parchesi).
And she called me Say-Rah.
Grandma Fincher was from rural Georgia, but she moved to California and then to Arizona, never once losing her accent or her ability to burn the crap out of fried okra or make the best tasting rice pudding you'd ever possibly have.
She was moody. She was funny. She worked in a Rubbermaid Factory. She loved all of her children equally, even when those children refused to love one another.
She was married to her husband for over seventy years, and in a photo from their 50th anniversary, that man is feeling her up. I asked my grandmother if that was a joke, a pose for the camera.
"Oh, no," she said, "Mother and Dad were always like that. They never stopped wanting to be around each other."
Now, that's the kind of marriage I want.
Through world wars, depression, moves across country and any number of other major life changes, my great-grandmother stood her ground. And she loved each and every person in her life.
Her hugs were genuine. Her smile was big. She would recognize the underdog and make sure he got extra love. She recognized that my dad got the short end of any bargain in his family, and she made sure that he knew how much she loved him.
Great-Grandma didn't finish high school, never got a college degree and never once legally drove a car.
But that woman held an entire world together, and she taught me, as a scraggly, scrawny, scrappy member of her family, that it's okay to be who you are, to never apologize for being yourself and that if you want a glass of Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill every night before bed, well, then, honey, you just go on and have one...or two.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Communication
I suck at communication. I never should have listed "good listener" on that list of skills waaay back in high school. Ever since I told anyone I was a good listener, I've increasingly become a worse one. And I'm not that great of a talker, either (oh, believe me, I can talk about a windstorm, but I can't for the life of me tell the people who need to know what I'm actually feeling).
I agree with people on things I don't really agree with them on. And then I never tell them otherwise.
I tell Wine Guy something doesn't bother me, that nothing's wrong, and then an hour, a week, a month later, we have a fight about the very thing that supposedly didn't bother me.
I also told him a lie for the very first time yesterday.
And what ticks me off is it was completely inadvertant. I don't lie. That's my thing.
But I went over to visit him at his place yesterday afternoon, and I was a BUNDLE of nerves. I was fidgety and awkward. I couldn't get comfortable.
"Are you nervous?" He asked.
"No. I just generally fidget." I said (as if he didn't already know).
"Yeah, but when you come over here, you never sit down to talk to me. You're always standing up and moving around. Why are you nervous?"
"I'm not."
A couple of hours later, after time out in the sun, a yummy cookie eaten, photographs taken and a car accident neatly avoided, I rested on his bed, in that space between his shoulder and his chest, and I said, "I was a bundle of nerves when I got here, and I don't know why."
He didn't call me out for basically lying to him, and he didn't ask me more about the nerves, either.
My first instinct when he asked me a question was to lie, and I'm not a liar.
And I DO know why I was nervous. Going over to his place was like going over to the house of someone I've just started seeing. It was only the third time I've been there, and sitting up in his room felt like being in college, visiting someone's apartment when I'm not exactly sure what will happen there. Being in his room somehow erased that fact that we've been together five months, and I have no reason to be nervous around him.
I was also nervous, because I know that I need to get back to being myself around him. I can't agree with things I don't agree with. I can't, as Irene helped me remember, give him all the control. And I'm nervous about taking that back.
I agree with people on things I don't really agree with them on. And then I never tell them otherwise.
I tell Wine Guy something doesn't bother me, that nothing's wrong, and then an hour, a week, a month later, we have a fight about the very thing that supposedly didn't bother me.
I also told him a lie for the very first time yesterday.
And what ticks me off is it was completely inadvertant. I don't lie. That's my thing.
But I went over to visit him at his place yesterday afternoon, and I was a BUNDLE of nerves. I was fidgety and awkward. I couldn't get comfortable.
"Are you nervous?" He asked.
"No. I just generally fidget." I said (as if he didn't already know).
"Yeah, but when you come over here, you never sit down to talk to me. You're always standing up and moving around. Why are you nervous?"
"I'm not."
A couple of hours later, after time out in the sun, a yummy cookie eaten, photographs taken and a car accident neatly avoided, I rested on his bed, in that space between his shoulder and his chest, and I said, "I was a bundle of nerves when I got here, and I don't know why."
He didn't call me out for basically lying to him, and he didn't ask me more about the nerves, either.
My first instinct when he asked me a question was to lie, and I'm not a liar.
And I DO know why I was nervous. Going over to his place was like going over to the house of someone I've just started seeing. It was only the third time I've been there, and sitting up in his room felt like being in college, visiting someone's apartment when I'm not exactly sure what will happen there. Being in his room somehow erased that fact that we've been together five months, and I have no reason to be nervous around him.
I was also nervous, because I know that I need to get back to being myself around him. I can't agree with things I don't agree with. I can't, as Irene helped me remember, give him all the control. And I'm nervous about taking that back.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Super Mom!
So, it's Women's History Month, and for bloggers, that means writing one post a week about the women who have shaped us.
Well, I have to start with the woman in whom I was actually shaped...the most awkward way ever of saying: MOMMY!
Mama, you should go get the kleenex now, if you're not already crying :). I love you bunches!
Okay, so my mother. This woman wanted me SO much that she wrote poetry to me before I was ever conceived. This woman endured at least two miscarriages and then a rough 7-month (that's not normal, folks) pregnancy to have me. She loved me from the time she realized that women are the ones who reproduce. She loved me from the time her own mother was treating her so badly that she (my mother) started keeping note in her journal of all of the things she would NEVER do to her own daughter.
My mother has been raising me in her mind since before she ever even had a boyfriend.
My mother has taught me from moment one to fight against injustice. She has worked as a social worker, a teacher and a probation officer, amongh other things. Please note that these are jobs that are not exactly sunshine and roses. She works, and she works hard to make a difference in the world. She (and my father, too) is the reason I want to make an impact, want to make change in the world.
My mother fights against what's wrong, is never afraid to state her opinion, is ballsy, loud and absolutely fabulous. She is quiet, too. She has plenty of tears to shed. She got dealt one of the suckier cards of health and physical well-being I've ever encountered. From mysterious holes in her hips to ovarian cysts to what essentialy amounts to a brain tumor before she was 21, my mother has seen much of the worst life has to offer.
And some of the best.
She has a child (me!). She is married to the love her life (and he to his). She has a home. She has a strong faith in God.
She proves to me over and over again that God gives us exactly what we need, even if we fight Him kicking and screaming all the way.
How has my mother shaped me, exactly?
*I fight for what is right, no matter what the cost
*I want to be the kind of mother she is, rather than the kind of mother she isn't
*I am independent while still completely reliant on the attention of others (this can be a mixed blessing)
*I like to think I am a strong woman who can withstand just about anything, but doing it with dignity and grace will come with time
*I love books and music and being happy in my own skin
*I can take the good from my sometimes confusing past and make it into something valuable
*She has taught me, by marrying and loving my father, what to look for in a good man and how to never settle for anything less
*She has taught me the value of a good meal
*She has taught me that there is NOTHING like homemade but that sometimes we all need a dinner out
*Bread and cheese are a perfectly acceptable way to nourish myself
*Hugs are as necessary as breathing
*Receiving the Holy Eucharist will recharge and refresh my soul
...I can't say enough about Mommy. I think she might very well get TWO postings all about her!
Well, I have to start with the woman in whom I was actually shaped...the most awkward way ever of saying: MOMMY!
Mama, you should go get the kleenex now, if you're not already crying :). I love you bunches!
Okay, so my mother. This woman wanted me SO much that she wrote poetry to me before I was ever conceived. This woman endured at least two miscarriages and then a rough 7-month (that's not normal, folks) pregnancy to have me. She loved me from the time she realized that women are the ones who reproduce. She loved me from the time her own mother was treating her so badly that she (my mother) started keeping note in her journal of all of the things she would NEVER do to her own daughter.
My mother has been raising me in her mind since before she ever even had a boyfriend.
My mother has taught me from moment one to fight against injustice. She has worked as a social worker, a teacher and a probation officer, amongh other things. Please note that these are jobs that are not exactly sunshine and roses. She works, and she works hard to make a difference in the world. She (and my father, too) is the reason I want to make an impact, want to make change in the world.
My mother fights against what's wrong, is never afraid to state her opinion, is ballsy, loud and absolutely fabulous. She is quiet, too. She has plenty of tears to shed. She got dealt one of the suckier cards of health and physical well-being I've ever encountered. From mysterious holes in her hips to ovarian cysts to what essentialy amounts to a brain tumor before she was 21, my mother has seen much of the worst life has to offer.
And some of the best.
She has a child (me!). She is married to the love her life (and he to his). She has a home. She has a strong faith in God.
She proves to me over and over again that God gives us exactly what we need, even if we fight Him kicking and screaming all the way.
How has my mother shaped me, exactly?
*I fight for what is right, no matter what the cost
*I want to be the kind of mother she is, rather than the kind of mother she isn't
*I am independent while still completely reliant on the attention of others (this can be a mixed blessing)
*I like to think I am a strong woman who can withstand just about anything, but doing it with dignity and grace will come with time
*I love books and music and being happy in my own skin
*I can take the good from my sometimes confusing past and make it into something valuable
*She has taught me, by marrying and loving my father, what to look for in a good man and how to never settle for anything less
*She has taught me the value of a good meal
*She has taught me that there is NOTHING like homemade but that sometimes we all need a dinner out
*Bread and cheese are a perfectly acceptable way to nourish myself
*Hugs are as necessary as breathing
*Receiving the Holy Eucharist will recharge and refresh my soul
...I can't say enough about Mommy. I think she might very well get TWO postings all about her!
Friday, March 09, 2007
Friday Song Lyrics
It's Friday.
I have to work tomorrow, but it's still Friday. And Friday seems like the perfect time to talk about music!
There are some certain songs I've had on replay, at least in my head, for a while...and these are the songs and my favorite part of the lyrics. Please feel free to make this into a discussion and tell me what lyrics are running through the radio in your heads.
Snow Patrol: Hands Open
I wanna hear you laugh like you really mean it
Collapse into me, tired with joy
(as a result of this song, I actually requested a Sufjan Stevens CD from the library...oh, and I did sort of collapse into a certain someone tired with joy last weekend - it was awesome)
Augustana: Boston
She said I think I'll go to Boston...
I think I'll start a new life,
I think I'll start it over, where no one knows my name,
I'll get out of California, I'm tired of the weather...
I think that I'm just tired
I think I need a new town, to leave this all behind...
I think I need a sunrise, I'm tired of the sunset,
(not that far off from my own feelings when I fled to Boston. I truly believe everyone goes to Boston -- or to something that is Boston to them -- at some point in their life. Boston saved me, and this song makes me somewhat nostalgic)
Regina Spektor: That Time
Hey remember that time when my favorite colors were pink and green
Hey remember that month when I only ate boxes of tangerines
So cheap and juicy, tangerines
Hey remember that time when I would only read Shakespeare
Hey remember that other time when I would only read the backs of cereal boxes
(It's actually something of a sad song, once you get to the end, but at the beginning, it makes me think of a) all the weird things I do and b)all the weird things I don't do)
Michael Buble: Under My Skin
Don't you know little fool, you'll never win
Why not use your mentality, come on step up to reality
But each time I do, just the thought of you
Makes me stop before I begin
'Cause I've got you under my skin
(Uh, yeah. No relationship is perfect, and when someone is burrowed in under the skin, you might as well give in)
The Fray: She Is
It's all up in the air and we stand still to see what comes down
I don't know where it is, I don't know when, but I want you around
When it falls into place with you and I, we go from if to when
Your side and mine are both behind it's indication
This is gonna bring me clarity
This'll take the heart right out of me
The Beatles: Let It Be
And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light, that shines on me,
shine until tomorrow, let it be.
I wake up to the sound of music, mother Mary comes to me,
speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
(In other words: Calm down, things will be alright...whatever that means)
There are more, but I'll save those for next week...
I have to work tomorrow, but it's still Friday. And Friday seems like the perfect time to talk about music!
There are some certain songs I've had on replay, at least in my head, for a while...and these are the songs and my favorite part of the lyrics. Please feel free to make this into a discussion and tell me what lyrics are running through the radio in your heads.
Snow Patrol: Hands Open
I wanna hear you laugh like you really mean it
Collapse into me, tired with joy
(as a result of this song, I actually requested a Sufjan Stevens CD from the library...oh, and I did sort of collapse into a certain someone tired with joy last weekend - it was awesome)
Augustana: Boston
She said I think I'll go to Boston...
I think I'll start a new life,
I think I'll start it over, where no one knows my name,
I'll get out of California, I'm tired of the weather...
I think that I'm just tired
I think I need a new town, to leave this all behind...
I think I need a sunrise, I'm tired of the sunset,
(not that far off from my own feelings when I fled to Boston. I truly believe everyone goes to Boston -- or to something that is Boston to them -- at some point in their life. Boston saved me, and this song makes me somewhat nostalgic)
Regina Spektor: That Time
Hey remember that time when my favorite colors were pink and green
Hey remember that month when I only ate boxes of tangerines
So cheap and juicy, tangerines
Hey remember that time when I would only read Shakespeare
Hey remember that other time when I would only read the backs of cereal boxes
(It's actually something of a sad song, once you get to the end, but at the beginning, it makes me think of a) all the weird things I do and b)all the weird things I don't do)
Michael Buble: Under My Skin
Don't you know little fool, you'll never win
Why not use your mentality, come on step up to reality
But each time I do, just the thought of you
Makes me stop before I begin
'Cause I've got you under my skin
(Uh, yeah. No relationship is perfect, and when someone is burrowed in under the skin, you might as well give in)
The Fray: She Is
It's all up in the air and we stand still to see what comes down
I don't know where it is, I don't know when, but I want you around
When it falls into place with you and I, we go from if to when
Your side and mine are both behind it's indication
This is gonna bring me clarity
This'll take the heart right out of me
The Beatles: Let It Be
And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light, that shines on me,
shine until tomorrow, let it be.
I wake up to the sound of music, mother Mary comes to me,
speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
(In other words: Calm down, things will be alright...whatever that means)
There are more, but I'll save those for next week...
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Birds of Various Feathers
I have a friend at work who is pretty darn awesome. She does all kinds of artsy things and has interesting comments about the world. There is another woman at work who refers to this friend of mine as "My friend So and So," as if I am not friends with her, as if I have not gone on outings, had her over to my house, bought artwork from her. This doesn't bother me. I just find it interesting. I find it interesting that in the work world, people can be friends with the same people but SO not be friends with each other. And not even know that we're really close with common people.
I also find it fascinating that the friends we make in the work world are so completely different from the friends we make at school, at church, or through other common interests. My work friends and I are all part of the library world. We can talk about OPACs and "customers vs. patrons" and know what the heck is going on. We can also laugh ridiculously over the people who come up to the information desk and ask for "a book," no particular book just "a book." It's funny to us, but it's not really funny to my college friends.
Ah, college. High school. The friends we are friends with because of a common geographic location, a common class, a common age. I realized the other day that I have no idea exactly how old my work friends are, but I know to the day how old my high school and college friends are...In the work world age is *almost* irrelevant. Surely, I'm closer to those at work who are closer to my age than to retirement, but I don't associate with them strictly because they've got age in common with me.
Friends come in all shapes and sizes, and I'm discovering how many feathers we have. You know, birds of a feather and all that. Clearly people have quite the variety of feathers to coordinate!
I also find it fascinating that the friends we make in the work world are so completely different from the friends we make at school, at church, or through other common interests. My work friends and I are all part of the library world. We can talk about OPACs and "customers vs. patrons" and know what the heck is going on. We can also laugh ridiculously over the people who come up to the information desk and ask for "a book," no particular book just "a book." It's funny to us, but it's not really funny to my college friends.
Ah, college. High school. The friends we are friends with because of a common geographic location, a common class, a common age. I realized the other day that I have no idea exactly how old my work friends are, but I know to the day how old my high school and college friends are...In the work world age is *almost* irrelevant. Surely, I'm closer to those at work who are closer to my age than to retirement, but I don't associate with them strictly because they've got age in common with me.
Friends come in all shapes and sizes, and I'm discovering how many feathers we have. You know, birds of a feather and all that. Clearly people have quite the variety of feathers to coordinate!
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Three Crazy Beautiful Things
1. My throat hurts. My throat hurts, because I laughed ALL weekend. And this weekend, that means three straight days on top of Friday evening. That's a great reason for my throat to hurt.
2. Oh, my gosh, the weather! I have felt like a little spring elf running around, giddy with joy at the fact that I don't have to wear a sweater, can go out barefoot on my patio without my shoes and have planted some wee little tomato seeds in a window box. Rock on!
3. I was dying to go shopping, and when I finally did. I bought a skirt that doesn't match anything I own, hangers, dish soap and a movie I don't really care that much about. This is called retail therapy, and it is a beautiful thing.
2. Oh, my gosh, the weather! I have felt like a little spring elf running around, giddy with joy at the fact that I don't have to wear a sweater, can go out barefoot on my patio without my shoes and have planted some wee little tomato seeds in a window box. Rock on!
3. I was dying to go shopping, and when I finally did. I bought a skirt that doesn't match anything I own, hangers, dish soap and a movie I don't really care that much about. This is called retail therapy, and it is a beautiful thing.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Revelation
This was one amazing weekend. It was the first full weekend since Wine Guy returned from his jaunt to Oklahoma, and it also happened to be a beautiful three day weekend for me (I'll be paying for it by working Saturdays in March, but it was worth it for this good of a weekend).
Friday night, we started out at Natasha's birthday party in Berkeley, followed that by meeting Jessica and Patrick (now known as Jatrick, or Pessica, depending on who you ask) at Citron, this semi-fancy brunch joint in Rockridge. I love Jessica, but it amazes me how much of a city girl she has become in the last few years. She's picky about her meals and her clothes and her purses, shoes, haircuts, boyfriend's car...
After Rockridge, we were operating on "magic Sarah time" and scurried down to Fourth Street for a quick bite of ice cream and then onto Emeryville to try to catch Pan's Labyrinth. Of course, magic Sarah time is neither magic nor helpful, and we missed the showing we wanted. That meant Wine Guy and I got to just wander and chat with Irenie for a little while before she scurried off to her own adventures. We did get to see the movie...more on that another time. Afterwards, we picked up groceries at Ranch 99 and came up with a yummy stir fry - I LOVE stirfry. We had fresh shitaki mushrooms, and some of these:
Friday night, we started out at Natasha's birthday party in Berkeley, followed that by meeting Jessica and Patrick (now known as Jatrick, or Pessica, depending on who you ask) at Citron, this semi-fancy brunch joint in Rockridge. I love Jessica, but it amazes me how much of a city girl she has become in the last few years. She's picky about her meals and her clothes and her purses, shoes, haircuts, boyfriend's car...
After Rockridge, we were operating on "magic Sarah time" and scurried down to Fourth Street for a quick bite of ice cream and then onto Emeryville to try to catch Pan's Labyrinth. Of course, magic Sarah time is neither magic nor helpful, and we missed the showing we wanted. That meant Wine Guy and I got to just wander and chat with Irenie for a little while before she scurried off to her own adventures. We did get to see the movie...more on that another time. Afterwards, we picked up groceries at Ranch 99 and came up with a yummy stir fry - I LOVE stirfry. We had fresh shitaki mushrooms, and some of these:
Friday, March 02, 2007
How Sarah Got her Groove Back
Have you ever felt like you've stepped out of your own skin? There's a French saying that's something like "comfortable dans sa peau" (the spelling could be wrong) that means being comfortable in one's skin, being content to be who you are.
In the last couple of months with Wine Guy, there came a point where I think I stopped being comfortable in the quirky, weird, and dare I say wonderful, skin I had come to know and love and into something more passive, less bizarre, and far less entertaining.
Maybe it was his being away. Maybe it was my getting more sleep in the past months. Or maybe it was just becoming comfortable enough with him again. But I feel like I'm back in my own skin. I know and love this person I am today than the quiet, worried person I'd started to become.
Wednesday night, I plugged my speakers into my computer and pumped up my iTunes, playing a variety of songs including Christina Aguilera, Cake, Yolanda Adams, Billy Joel, Martina McBride, Jars of Clay, Pink Martini, Michael Buble and others that you wouldn't necessarily put together if you had the option to assemble a mix cd. I was in a silly mood, but one that felt familiar, one that felt more like my regular state of mind. I bounced around the apartment, singing, dancing, smiling, laughing.
Wine Guy said, "Do you do this often when I'm not around?"
I just smiled and kept on dancing, "I'm in a silly mood."
"That's okay with me!" He said and turned back to the risotto on the stove.
I stayed in a silly, fun, happy mood the whole night. In fact, it's days later, and I'm still in that silly, fun, happy mood.
Somehow, in the span of one week, this Sarah got her groove back.
And how...
In the last couple of months with Wine Guy, there came a point where I think I stopped being comfortable in the quirky, weird, and dare I say wonderful, skin I had come to know and love and into something more passive, less bizarre, and far less entertaining.
Maybe it was his being away. Maybe it was my getting more sleep in the past months. Or maybe it was just becoming comfortable enough with him again. But I feel like I'm back in my own skin. I know and love this person I am today than the quiet, worried person I'd started to become.
Wednesday night, I plugged my speakers into my computer and pumped up my iTunes, playing a variety of songs including Christina Aguilera, Cake, Yolanda Adams, Billy Joel, Martina McBride, Jars of Clay, Pink Martini, Michael Buble and others that you wouldn't necessarily put together if you had the option to assemble a mix cd. I was in a silly mood, but one that felt familiar, one that felt more like my regular state of mind. I bounced around the apartment, singing, dancing, smiling, laughing.
Wine Guy said, "Do you do this often when I'm not around?"
I just smiled and kept on dancing, "I'm in a silly mood."
"That's okay with me!" He said and turned back to the risotto on the stove.
I stayed in a silly, fun, happy mood the whole night. In fact, it's days later, and I'm still in that silly, fun, happy mood.
Somehow, in the span of one week, this Sarah got her groove back.
And how...
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