ho hum

I made the mistake of looking at the newspaper during my lunch break. Looks like it's another day for economic death and dismemberment. Doom! Doom! Apocalypse! I hate it. Everyone knows they shouldn't panic, because that might start a bigger panic and then we'll all panic and then boom! Great Depression II. But in this day and age, even thinking about talking about the possibility of panic seems to be enough to start one. Talk about self-fulfilling prophecy. How is it possible that America got so stupid with its money?

I think it's because we're a bunch of greedy monkeys. We want to have our cake and eat it too. My solution: don't spend money you don't have. Too simple? Maybe. But just because something is simple doesn't mean it's not the solution. I doubt my idea will be popular, though. It'll mean sacrificing our false sense of affluence.

Sigh.

On the plus side, there was also a little article announcing Starbucks' launch of its new hot chocolate, a "signature blend" of four different kinds of cocoa. The world can't be in that bad of shape, then, can it?

new dress

A few weeks ago, I found the most fabulous fabric--as you can see. Of course, I wasn't really looking to make a new dress right then, but when opportunity comes knocking, it's best to answer the door, ey?

In my repertoire of patterns both old and new, I had one rather magnificent blouse and skirt set from 1977. After a bit of trial and error and a lot of help from Gladys, that fabric and old pattern became this quite funktastically cute dress. This is one of those rare times when something looks better on me than it does on Gladys, but take a gander at that fantastic neckline and the empire-waist drawstring.
This dress is quite simply an instant party.

friend-type things

I'm elbow-deep in work today, but need to take a moment to mull over some naggling thoughts concerning my social life...

I'm not particularly gifted at the whole friendship thing, so I need to take a poll, here. Ok, here's the question: how many times can you initiate an "activity" with a friend or acquaintance without receiving any reciprocal invites? In other words: should you continually keep initiating? Some of us are better than others with things like brainstorming and planning and whatnot, but still. Still!

If the "offender" is a good friend, the clearest path is simply to smack them (lovingly) on the head and say "hey, what's the deal?" But what if it's someone you're not entirely secure with? What if the friendship's still incubating? What if you're not sure the person wants to be your friend at all? Do you simply keep asking, figuring that they will say no if they don't like you?

Or do you pave the way with an open-ended thing, like "if you ever want to ______, just let me know" and figure if they never get back to you it was intentional? Or do you just let them float around in that "gray area" of your relationship corral forever, tormenting you on the odd occasion that they pop into the forefront of your social radar?

I'm finding this particularly troubling today because there are occasionally specific things I like to do that not many of my "good" friends enjoy. Now, I'll do plenty of things alone, if necessary. The beach. Church. Shopping. Moving heavy furniture. Movie theaters, even. But there are some things that just can't be enjoyed solo. So what's a girl to do? Keep nagging for company? I can do that. I'm a good nagger. But...

But it'd sure be nice for my company to be sought, every once in a while. What to do, what to do.

the day of birth

Twenty-seven. Geesh.

I'm starting to bank into that second corner already. Not that it really matters. I don't particularly feel too old to do what I want in this life. I don't feel like "it's all slipping away" and I'd better hurry up and get depressed because clearly my chances have passed me by. Pah. (Noise of dismissive disgust, if you're wondering.)

What I do feel, however, is a twinge of regret that I have gotten this far without doing anything particularly awesome. I've got that whole independent stability thing down. I'm self-sufficient and debt free and responsible and living at a comfortable standard.

But I positively stink at risks. Well, I might be good at them. I don't know. I don't generally take them, at leat not the big hairy ones. Is this a good thing or a bad thing? I don't know that either. There are definite plusses to my current life. I'm secure. I'm stable. I get to do what I want most of the time.

And yet...the sense that something's missing remains. Haunting me just about every day--not simply on my birthday. A tickle in the back of my brain. And itchy sort of "what if" that sneaks up on me in the middle of my morning coffee.

Well, bring it on, life! I may not be a great risk-taker, but nor am I one to back down and give up. Let's see what this year has in store--and if I do go down, let it be in the midst of a grand adventure, both guns blazing.

poetry

There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.
-Mark Strand

What shall I do with this book I love
so much I'd like to eat it? Meeting
the poet at a reading, I would cast
my eyes down. I'd walk behind him,
not stepping on his shadow. If he told me
I was half blind, I might lose sight
in both my eyes. At home, everything
I write becomes infected with his
wildness: for instance, this, which
I never planned, which has no ending.

Where shall I put the book, so full of life
my car could barely stick to the Expressway?
When my cold encyclopedias sense
its goofy brilliance, they climb and hang
on one another like Chinese gymnasts.
I must subtract to make a place
for the book to live. I lift out histories,
then other listless volumes. I toss my boring
files, erase the answering machine,
renounce the desk, computer, pens.

Only the illumination of St. John stays.
In my study's scooped-out heart
I wait beside the book, which glows
with light borrowed from some distant star.
I look at St. John's face. He gazes from
his throne, his eyes blazing with love
and understanding. Tongues of flame
play over him, sent from the Source
who is both arsonist and fireman,
and in his right hand, he holds a book.

~Jeanne Murray Walker

always makin' a splash

If anyone wants to know how I spent my labor day weekend...

Yeah, this is it. Let me tell you, those lovely Lake Mich waves didn't know what hit 'em.