January 2011
at mom’s. tired. she’s sleeping. so far so good. long row ahead of us, but still, much to be grateful for. (preposition dangles. too tired to move it somewhere into the middle of the sentence).
happy new year
thank you all.
December 2010
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plans
me: so here’s the plan
god/deity of your choice: hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
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from War Dances, Sherman Alexie
[posted the piece below exactly a year ago today. found it just now, after wondering about what I may have been thinking about then. at this time, last year. some of my thinking and some of the pieces haven’t changed very much at all. others have. a lot.]
(this is the last paragraph of the eponymous short story; if you’ve not yet read the story, and want to, maybe don’t read this...
ruh roh
just happened to look out the kitchen window in time to see someone across the street struggling with a power snow blower. struggling, with a power. blower.
hmm.
so, a) last night’s shoveling (combination work out and preemptive strike) turns out to’ve been a sisyphean endeavor; and b) there’s a giant fuckload of snow waiting to be shifted.
onward, then.
(edit: it probably...
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poorly
in under 24 hours, have managed to grow a full-blown cold; fluish, runny nose, sudafed cloud, fuckety horrible sick. can’t go see mom sick. more sudafed, please. the driver’s license, meth-lab, make me better now, forget ehinacea, generic equivalent of sudafed from behind the counter. need to lose this promptly.
think I caught it from Paul, playing WWF, but not sure.
dog sage
Annie just posted a piece about an issue, involving someone she’d not seen in a dog’s age. which I read as dog sage. maybe a dog sage could help her sort it all out.
sky, sleep, tiny things
woke myself up with the realization that the inflatable bed thingy I’m about to borrow from a friend is too big for my mom’s apartment (for when my niece and brother come to visit and make my mother glad), and that I need to ask that same friend to borrow her smaller inflatable bed thingy and not the bigger one and also yesterday read the title to an article about engaged scholarship...
dancing
mentioned our friend’s passing the other day. she’d been on a cruise with her sisters. learned this afternoon that she’d been dancing, on that cruise; she had a stroke and fell, dead. dancing. she died on the ocean. dancing.
a deeply spiritual - actually, religious, church-connected woman, who’d lost her eye sight later in life. had been involved as an advocate for...
“As a general rule, librarians are a kick in the pants socially, often full of...”
– — Bill Hall, editorial page editor, Lewiston (Idaho) Tribune, Sept. 9, 2001. (via lostbetweenthepages)
There are “boring old poops” in every profession.
(via librarianista)
You should see them dance.
(via pocketcontents)
ARB, for Lynn and just because. yay. librarians.
Write one leaf about something that makes you...
1. leaving my mother in the hospital when I leave at the end of the day
2. feeling tired thinking about my mom’s recovery
3. thinking about me thinking about my mom in the hospital
4. making any of the above about me
5. exhaustion, depression.
so: feel guilty leaving, feel guilty for making this about me and what I need and want to have happen for my mom.
and at times for being...
brighton competition
so. i’m wanting to enter this competition to report out on a language learning conference being held in Brighton (UK, yes, that’s right) in April.
anyone have ten minutes, endless patience and a hankering to give me feedback on my entry? the brief is to write 500 words about a conference session to let the adjudicators see if I’d be able to report compellingly on their...
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