I occasionally suffer from the syndrome of full closet and nothing to wear. This is my own fault. I shop at Goodwill and tend to purchase discount sweatshirts, and when the time comes to donate to Goodwill, I tend to pillage my husband's ratty dress shirts. (This is useful - the sleeves are long, so if I button the cuffs, I can tuck my thumbs through the cuff slits and have gloved hands in the winter. I'm thinking ahead!) I don't buy dress clothes often, and as a result, when I do it's with a complete abandon and utter disregard for anything but aesthetics. I have a nice selection of beautiful things that do not "go" with any of the other beautiful things. Anyway, a problem of my own making.
Which is why I was astounded today to discover this problem with books! Let me be clear - we are not short on books around here. The built-in shelves we designed were the first project we finished after we moved in - they're an impractical 11' high by a staggering 17' wide, and they stay full, despite my best effort to carve out some small spaces for decorative odds and ends. We have a database, so I can say with certainty that the number of books in this house tends to hover around 1400-1500. We have advanced reader copies tucked into every nook and cranny, and we "distill" our books regularly at Half-Price Books, converting four or five small boxes of books into just four or five books. And they know who I am at both local libraries.
For months now, I've been looking at the shelves (and windowsills) and thinking, "I'm falling behind! I'll never get all these books read!" And then all of a sudden, just yesterday, I couldn't find a single thing that fit. I had to resort to "trying" books on, retiring to bed with a large stack with everything from pop culture (Linda Fairstein) to the literary (Margaret Atwood) to the academic (Laurel Thatcher Ulrich). I like trying on books about as much as I like trying on clothes; I just want something to fit, and everything that doesn't fit makes me feel bad about myself. ("Too tight? Too fat!" becomes "Too weighty? Too stupid!") Still, at the end of the day, shopping for books is still better than shopping for dress pants!
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Animal Magnetism
The first sure sign of cold weather is that I begin to sprout furry, purring, cat-sized tumors. They grow on my head when I'm sleeping, in my lap when I'm working, and I often even have a sweaty cat fur glove on my left hand when I'm reading. I wake in the middle of the night to discover fuzzy growths under either arm and on the tops of my feet, and while their locations may change, they never detach.
And it's not just cats that I attract. Of course, every insect in the free world has discovered the weakness of our defenses - worn sills, old caulking, paper-thin weatherstripping - locating a crack, crevice, nook or cranny to sneak in. Fruit flies, who ignored us all summer, now seem aware of their brief lives and have mounted an assault on three spotted bananas and a bowl of tomatoes with a vengeance. Spiders have set up housekeeping on every glue block in the place, leaving the floor around the furniture legs littered with carcasses and carnage. The skunk pillaging my compost bin has stepped up his efforts, and a mouse has set up camp in an eggshell half, probably consoled not only by the convenience of snacks but also by the warmth of rot. And then, there was the nest of baby snakes in the dryer vent.
Honestly, this might be a case of being careful what you wish for. I feel like my teenage wishes for popularity are being visited on me now, and I should have been careful to specify what kind of popularity. General popularity with the universe has its drawbacks vis a vis dryer vent snakes.
And it's not just cats that I attract. Of course, every insect in the free world has discovered the weakness of our defenses - worn sills, old caulking, paper-thin weatherstripping - locating a crack, crevice, nook or cranny to sneak in. Fruit flies, who ignored us all summer, now seem aware of their brief lives and have mounted an assault on three spotted bananas and a bowl of tomatoes with a vengeance. Spiders have set up housekeeping on every glue block in the place, leaving the floor around the furniture legs littered with carcasses and carnage. The skunk pillaging my compost bin has stepped up his efforts, and a mouse has set up camp in an eggshell half, probably consoled not only by the convenience of snacks but also by the warmth of rot. And then, there was the nest of baby snakes in the dryer vent.
Honestly, this might be a case of being careful what you wish for. I feel like my teenage wishes for popularity are being visited on me now, and I should have been careful to specify what kind of popularity. General popularity with the universe has its drawbacks vis a vis dryer vent snakes.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Fresh Eyes
My house is getting new windows! Well, not really new, since we wanted to preserve the original ones, but they are getting scraped clean and fresh white glazing is being tucked in everywhere. Primer and paint to follow!
It's really transformed the house, and with the blinds up so that we could remove all the storm windows, this place is flooded with light. Of course, with 8 4' by 7' windows, that's probably to be expected. Cats are writhing around on the rugs, delighted by the proliferation of sunspots.
I hadn't realized how much I'd avoided looking at the windows in the past two years. I'm always looking out, but that's really looking through instead of looking at. With dead bugs, flaking paint, and duct tape (The former owner was a big fan of three things: pneumatic staple guns, duct tape and stripping screws.), it wasn't exactly inspirational. But now, with fresh eyes for me and the house, it's a delight to go around from window to window.
Now, if we can get the sash weights reconnected, I will have windows that are a.) transparent and b.) open! What novelty!
It's really transformed the house, and with the blinds up so that we could remove all the storm windows, this place is flooded with light. Of course, with 8 4' by 7' windows, that's probably to be expected. Cats are writhing around on the rugs, delighted by the proliferation of sunspots.
I hadn't realized how much I'd avoided looking at the windows in the past two years. I'm always looking out, but that's really looking through instead of looking at. With dead bugs, flaking paint, and duct tape (The former owner was a big fan of three things: pneumatic staple guns, duct tape and stripping screws.), it wasn't exactly inspirational. But now, with fresh eyes for me and the house, it's a delight to go around from window to window.
Now, if we can get the sash weights reconnected, I will have windows that are a.) transparent and b.) open! What novelty!
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
Don't Dress Your Cat in an Apron
I was thinking of Dan Greenburg's poem this weekend. We went to a nephew's football game on Saturday - he's in third grade, so it was more entertainment spectacle than sporting event, but still.... There were about a million flags thrown, which was probably a good thing, since the little boys were clearly learning the fundamentals of the game. Holding is a difficult concept to grasp, and pretty natural for a small person trying to stop another small person....
The bizarre part was that they also had cheerleaders, and sadly, it seemed that little girls were learning the fundamentals of the game too - "Smile! Don't look so angry!," "Watch the boys!," etc. And you could already see the competition developing between them - the pretty little girl with a perfect French braid who bossed all the other girls around and the little girl with grass stains on her knees and a messy ponytail. It made me sad to realize how much heartache some of them have in front of them, trying to be something they aren't or trying to figure out what they are after all they've been told they're supposed to be.
I still have my copy of Free to Be You and Me. My mother, a budding feminist, bought it for me for my first birthday, I think, and despite her best intentions, she gave off some of those messages, too. The men in my family ate first, talked first, read first, left the table first, and for years, I tagged along with them, leaving my mother and my grandmother to clean up after all of us. Any good survivor can tell you that it's important to ingratiate yourself with the power structure. Mental survival is a different story.
Anyway, I muddled through, breathing phrases like, "Patriarchal bullshit" under my breath. They'll muddle through, too, and figure out how to make a neat ponytail, how to smile when you don't want to, and how to reinvent yourself the first time someone gives you a chance.
The bizarre part was that they also had cheerleaders, and sadly, it seemed that little girls were learning the fundamentals of the game too - "Smile! Don't look so angry!," "Watch the boys!," etc. And you could already see the competition developing between them - the pretty little girl with a perfect French braid who bossed all the other girls around and the little girl with grass stains on her knees and a messy ponytail. It made me sad to realize how much heartache some of them have in front of them, trying to be something they aren't or trying to figure out what they are after all they've been told they're supposed to be.
I still have my copy of Free to Be You and Me. My mother, a budding feminist, bought it for me for my first birthday, I think, and despite her best intentions, she gave off some of those messages, too. The men in my family ate first, talked first, read first, left the table first, and for years, I tagged along with them, leaving my mother and my grandmother to clean up after all of us. Any good survivor can tell you that it's important to ingratiate yourself with the power structure. Mental survival is a different story.
Anyway, I muddled through, breathing phrases like, "Patriarchal bullshit" under my breath. They'll muddle through, too, and figure out how to make a neat ponytail, how to smile when you don't want to, and how to reinvent yourself the first time someone gives you a chance.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Information Withdrawal
The last of Ike ripped through here Sunday, and we can count ourselves among the fortunate - no trees down and just a brief power blip. The cell tower that we draw service from was apparently having problems, so we found ourselves pacing around the first floor playing Hot and Cold with the phones, but that wasn't a terrible inconvenience. Cable was knocked out, but I have stacks and stacks of books to read and was happy to just be able to go to bed early and read.
The only problem? The loss of Internet access. I was completely undone. Not only could I not find out what was going on in the world, how bad the damage was, etc., but I couldn't help wondering what would happen if I wanted to know something. What if I needed to know what the largest city in Qinghai Province is? What if I wanted to see what the interior of a '59 Chevy looks like? How could I find out the average temperature in May in Minnesota? A thousand times a day, it seems, I satisfy my curiosity about something - the subject of a Charles Russell painting, the anatomy of a cat's jaw, restoring and repairing doors. Lately, I've looked up Parabolon magic lanterns, the hull dimensions of the HMS Erebus, and the history of the Pablo Allard buffalo herd. I've also looked up Clean House episodes, Nanci Griffith song lyrics and pictures of English bulldog puppies, just in case you thought I was over here overdosing on Wikipedia.
I was nervous until Monday morning when Google finally loaded again. Eliminating uncertainty, even if it's about small, esoteric topics, is a comfort, maybe even more so since everything in the world seems so uncertain. If small questions have answers, maybe big ones do too.
The only problem? The loss of Internet access. I was completely undone. Not only could I not find out what was going on in the world, how bad the damage was, etc., but I couldn't help wondering what would happen if I wanted to know something. What if I needed to know what the largest city in Qinghai Province is? What if I wanted to see what the interior of a '59 Chevy looks like? How could I find out the average temperature in May in Minnesota? A thousand times a day, it seems, I satisfy my curiosity about something - the subject of a Charles Russell painting, the anatomy of a cat's jaw, restoring and repairing doors. Lately, I've looked up Parabolon magic lanterns, the hull dimensions of the HMS Erebus, and the history of the Pablo Allard buffalo herd. I've also looked up Clean House episodes, Nanci Griffith song lyrics and pictures of English bulldog puppies, just in case you thought I was over here overdosing on Wikipedia.
I was nervous until Monday morning when Google finally loaded again. Eliminating uncertainty, even if it's about small, esoteric topics, is a comfort, maybe even more so since everything in the world seems so uncertain. If small questions have answers, maybe big ones do too.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Excuses and Big Pointy Teeth
Honestly, I can find an excuse for reading and doing nothing all year long. In the winter, it's too cold and too nasty to go out, and in the summer, it's too hot and too nasty to go out. I don't need excuses in fall and spring, though, because it really feels like reading is what I'm supposed to be doing.
Actually, we've been doing work around the house, which gives me enough of a sense of productivity that I can lie around for hours afterwards reading without feeling guilty. We've been in the midst of a mechanical nightmare over here, I think. Last week, I took the washer apart to retrieve 30 cents from the valves of the drain motor. I was trying to get a nickel out and was struggling with a flutter valve that actually turned out to be a quarter, so.... Soapy water all over the floor and soggy underwear, blech.
And then the car wouldn't start on Wednesday, thanks to an ungrateful squirrel who sheered off two of my spark plug wires! It looked like the little maverick had taken a hacksaw to them. I had some stale pistachio nuts that I was holding onto until colder weather, but now I'm thinking of giving them to the raccoons. Or thinking of sitting on the deck and lobbing them at him. Wonder how effective a slingshot with a leftover broccoli band would be....
Actually, we've been doing work around the house, which gives me enough of a sense of productivity that I can lie around for hours afterwards reading without feeling guilty. We've been in the midst of a mechanical nightmare over here, I think. Last week, I took the washer apart to retrieve 30 cents from the valves of the drain motor. I was trying to get a nickel out and was struggling with a flutter valve that actually turned out to be a quarter, so.... Soapy water all over the floor and soggy underwear, blech.
And then the car wouldn't start on Wednesday, thanks to an ungrateful squirrel who sheered off two of my spark plug wires! It looked like the little maverick had taken a hacksaw to them. I had some stale pistachio nuts that I was holding onto until colder weather, but now I'm thinking of giving them to the raccoons. Or thinking of sitting on the deck and lobbing them at him. Wonder how effective a slingshot with a leftover broccoli band would be....
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