rahniREADS (August '09)

When people ask me what I like to read, I usually shrug and say, simply, "Everything." But I've come to realize that that is not true. I feel no attraction towards books of many genres. Jack Kerouac, Ken Kesey, Laurel K. Hamilton, Thomas Hardy? Not My Style. I'm-Just-Calling-You-Names Current Affairs books, Self Help, New Age, True Crime, most Themed Mysteries (culinary, quilting, etc.), Breathless Bodice Rippers? Not Interested. If you can't express yourself except through prolific clusters of obscenities, I will be skipping your book. I love biographies, but I have no interest in reading about the people who are all, "Look at me and how screwed up I am and how I never try to redeem or improve myself or even think about others, and listen to my dramatic list of all the wrongs done to me and how badly I've been treated in life and each drunken/stoned escapade of my life that I remember, I'm so distracted by staring at my own bellybutton and trying to figure out just what an enigma I am, blah, blah, blah." Forget it. Sometimes I don't realize it's Not To My Taste until too late. I'm already immersed, and can't, can't, can't--CANNOT--abandon yet another book midway through.


Gateway - Frederik Pohl*
~Space angst dissected by computer shrink~
The NPR Commentator and "famous" Seattle librarian, Nancy Pearl, introduced this book to me as an aside during an interview I listened to years ago. Despite that, I will continue to listen to her reviews and continue to delight in her book-recommendation collections, Book Lust and More Book Lust. The story is a SciFi future/space drama, where Earth is on the brink of collapse and humans are looking to colonize new worlds. They've found spaceships built by an unknown alien race that fly pre-programmed routes and--using their extremely limited knowledge--the humans use these ships to help the colonization process. The intriguing thing about this prospect is that they have no idea where the ships with go and, more importantly, how long each flight will last. Sounds like an fascinating read, no? Nope. It wasn't. Beyond that (admittedly) unique and mind-bending idea, the book is stuck in 60's/70's Freudian over-psychoanalyzing, sexual revolution, anti-establishment indignation, etc. Not for me. Stop fighting with your Oedipal urges, computer shrink, disturbingly violent tendencies, and rotating bedmates, Mr. Robinette Broadhead. It's tiresome. And it doesn't make for a compelling story. Thumbs down. (Fiction, Science Fiction>IYLRMO Replay, Kurt Vonnegut)
The Amateur Marriage - Anne Tyler***1/2
~Rash wartime declarations of love wane~
I kept thinking of my sister, Chandra, while reading this book. Not because her marriage at all resembles this book, but because it's a book I'm surprised she hasn't pushed on me. This novel serves as a profile of America through the decades as well as a study of a mismatched marriage. By alternating points of view from chapter to chapter, Ms. Tyler allows us to really dig deeper into these characters lives and perspectives. Though frequently frustrated with this incongruous pair, I quite enjoyed this evening read. (Fiction, Historical (WWII to present)>IYLRMO Before You Know Kindness--Chris Bohjalian, The Scarlet Feather--Maeve Binchy)
Nigger: The Strange Career of a Troublesome Word - Randall Kennedy***
~Sociologist examines, discusses politically-charged word~
"The word is paradigmatically ugly, racist and inflammatory. But is it different when Ice Cube uses it in a song than when, during the O.J. Simpson trial, Mark Fuhrman was accused of saying it? What about when Lenny Bruce uses it to "defang" it by sheer repetition? Or when Mark Twain uses it in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn to make an antiracist statement? Kennedy, a professor at Harvard Law School and noted legal scholar, has produced an insightful and highly provocative book that raises vital questions about the relationship between language, politics, social norms and how society and culture confront racism."--Publishers Weekly
I started reading this book in August 2009 in a B&N break room. My initial introduction to the work, however, occurred about seven(?) years earlier in the only episode of Boston Public that I've ever watched. A racial incident in the classroom prompted the teacher to assign this particular book as a required read. Like a dutifully interested television viewer, I went out, bought this book and added it to my library shelves. Where it sat. And sat. And sat. For years. Inspired by last month's reading choice successes by selecting from my own bookshelves, I turned again to my overflowing library. Let me just say that this book is awkward to carry around in public. After taking in the skeptical or astonished glances, I'd rush to point out the subtitle and blather about how it's a sociological study . . . and on and on. Walking down a sidewalk one day during my lunch break, I even grew self-conscious enough to bend the cover down so that the slow-moving cars didn't send me indignant glares. I found Kennedy to be contradictory at times, as when he seems to applaud Chris Rock and condemn his grandmother for their same usage of the word. This book turned out to be more of a historical study than a contemporary discussion of today's issues. I think it was an interesting read, even brave of the author to even broach such a politically/racially-charged subject, but I was left unsatisfied by the mere listing of examples instead of probing analysis. He did retain the role of independent observor admirably, but I was hoping for actual opinions and discussion. I wish he would have included essays (or something of the like) reflecting different points of view on the subject. "After a while, one wishes for more of an argument than a laundry listing of the word's history of discord." R. Chaffey, Amazon reviewer. (Nonfiction, Cultural Studies/Current Affairs>IYLRMO Black Like Me--John Howard Griffin, He Talk Like a White Boy--Joseph C. Phillips, Honky--Dalton Conley)
Walk Two Moons - Sharon Creech (Book Club)***1/2
~Girl loses mother, learns to live~
See, it's people like Debbie who remind me that I really need to stop judging books so quickly and give them a chance. Once again, when the book club choice was announced for this month, I found myself thinking, "No, not that one!" Didn't voice it, of course. I had successfully ignored this Newberry Award winner on the shelf for years. The cover turned me off, the title bored me, and I didn't even bother reading the synopsis. Perhaps IF I HAD I would have realized the marvelous potential behind that blah cover! Indeed, the moment I finally deigned to read the synopsis on bn.com, I was immediately hooked. Two quotes for you:
"Did he actually KISS my collarbone? And if he did, why did he do that? Was the kiss supposed to land somewhere else, like on my mouth, for example? That was a chilling thought." (Salamanca, p.49)
"She's unconscious," the intern said. "She won't know whether you're here or not."
"Sonny, I've been by her side for fifty-one years, except for three days when she left me for the egg man. I'm holding on to her hand, see? If you want me to let go, you'll have to chop my hand off." (Gramps, p.256)
(Fiction, Young Reader, Newberry>IYLRMO Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry--Mildred Taylor, Maniac Magee--Jerry Spinelli)
When Jesus Came to Harvard - Harvey Cox*****
~Harvard decides students need Moral Reasoning~
Every six months the employees of Barnes & Noble go on mini-shopping sprees due to the bi-annual employee discount sale (an extra 10% off merchandise). Until about two years ago, I was no exception. As much as I tried to reason with myself that just because the books being 40% off now instead of 30% didn't give me license to go crazy, my list of BIWTR (Books I Want To Read) was more persuasive. Two years ago, however, B&N showed us a figure that represented how much we had saved that year through our own personal use of the discount. "That's how much I spent!" I exclaimed, astounded. "No, that's how much you saved." I was so horrified that my spending has gone down DRAMATICALLY at work. Probably not reaction that they were shooting for. Oh well. Anyhow, this book was on my BIWTR list for several years, strangely enough, but was always bumped for other clamoring titles. Until this past summer. That's right, I bought this little beauty for a mere 30% off--didn't even wait to save that extra $1.50. Enough was enough! About the actual book, however . . . it's great. Seriously. Go out and read it. Back in the early 80's, Harvard decided that they needed to require their students to take a class in Moral Reasoning. Armed with just the scholastic bits, their students weren't always applying their newfound knowledge in the most ethical of ways. Of the many courses offered, Harvey Cox was asked to teach a course based on the teachings of Jesus--how to apply his rabbinical teachings, the historical landscape, stories told by and about him to moral situations in our modern day world. The course quickly became one of the most popular classes on campus. Just as the course is for members of all faiths (or even of no religious faith), so is this book. A fabulous book exploring the world-altering life of Jesus and the application of moral reasoning in the 21st century. (Nonfiction, Religion, Philosophy, Cultural Studies>IYLRMO Between the Testaments, No Man is an Island--Thomas Merton, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance--Robert Pirsig)
April Morning - Howard Fast*****
~Revolutionary war battle through teen's eyes~
I can't for the life of me remember where I heard about this Revolutionary War novel, but I do know that I checked it out from my school library back in February or so. And lost track of it, come the end of school, thus making me one of the patrons we dread--people who don't return our books, thus depleting our collection. Midway through the summer, the slim novel popped up from the depths of my closet and I breathed a sigh of relief, set it aside in an obvious place and thought no more about it until school began. I even went so far as to put it in my car to return, but then thought better of it and decided to actually read the book I had held captive for lo these many months. So glad I did! Rod's reading it right now--I'll get him to weigh in soon. Here are a few passages I enjoyed . . .
"We thank the, O Lord, for the bread we eat, but we are also conscious of seed we have planted, of the hands that guided the plow and the back bent in toil. The ground is dry as dust, and I will take the liberty of asking for a little rain. I know that Thou givest with one hand and Thou takest away with the other, but sometimes it seems to me to go beyond the bounds of reason. Amen!" (Father, p.12)
"I thought [the Reverend's proclaiming to confront the advancing British army with words of reason, not with bullets, yet with weapons in hand] was beautifully put . . . I suppose that Father could have bettered it, being used to throwing in an argument at the drop of the hat, but for a reflective man like the Reverend, it was all one could ask. I even began to look forward to his projected exchange with the British, and to imagine some of the things I might say in his place. Just for the sake of peace, I hoped that his thoughts ran to less colorful language than mine." (Adam, p.92)
"I hate to scold you, I really do."
"It would be interesting to see what it would be like here if you enjoyed scolding me."
"Adam, I don't appreciate sarcasm."
"I'm sorry, Mother." (Adam/Mother, p. 42)
(Fiction, Historical, Revolutionary War>IYLRMO All Quiet on the Western Front, Rifles for Watie, Red Badge of Courage (presumably--haven't read this classic yet!))
A Kiss in Time - Alex Flinn**1/2
~Fluffy jump-through-time Sleeping Beauty spin~
A modern day twist to the Sleeping Beauty fairy tale. Not really much more to say than that. It didn't WOW by any means, nor was it really terribly bad. Just a shrug. A half-hearted shrug.
(Fiction, Teen, Retold Fairy Tale mixed with real world>IYLRMO Summers at Castle Auburn--Sharon Shinn, but not as entertaining)
The Siege of Macindaw (Ranger's Apprentice #6) - John Flanagan**1/2
~Will is older and less entertaining~
Do authors think that we have the memory retention of a goldfish? Some authors are just bound and determined to thrust the same character definitions upon us over and over and over and over and . . . I'm thinking this story should have ended two books ago. I do realize that I am not the intended audience, though, and it's perfectly serviceable for the age group it caters to (6-9th grades). It's just lost a lot of its charm. Oh, well. It was a good run. (Fiction, Young Reader, Fantasy>IYLRMO The Last Apprentice series--Joseph Delaney)


(IYLRMO = If you liked/Reminds me of . . .)
***** READ IT RIGHT NOW!
*** Would definitely pass it on to others--highly recommended
*** Better than most
**1/2 (Shrug) Nothing that sticks with you, but fine afternoon reading
** If you're stuck on a deserted island and cloud-watching isn't your thing
* BURN in a fire if you're stuck on a deserted island (even if it's a hot, tropical island)

The (New) Adventures of Steel Bladder and AmBEAR GRYLL

<Imaginary Editor's Note: We regret to inform you that we must accept your entry for our "The Shortest Short Stories Around: 55 Words" competition. We wish to to reject your submission due to the simple reason that it has WELL EXCEEDED 55 WORDS. We wish to, but we can't. It's true, when inserted into a Word document and employing the word count tool, your submission does indeed show an exact 55 words. For the MAIN BODY. And yes, while there were no specific rules laid out in regards to footnotes, that is merely because we did not foresee the entries taking such a subversive and sneaky avenue. Many have tried to smudge the hard and fast rule of 55 words with the unnatural use of hyphens, illegal compound words, and the like, but never before have we been confronted by footnotes. You understand, I presume, that even while you've included a lot of information in such footnotes, they're really only helpful (and of interest) to your own friends and family? Indeed, they are more suited for a blog than a public contest? While perhaps being a fan of brevity (else, why would you enter such a contest?), your entry shows that your tastes lean much towards the (over)use of adjectives, asides and anecdotes. In short? You ramble. We will be amending our contest rules for next year's contest, should you feel compelled to enter again. P.S. Thank you for not continuing your notes to the letter "z"--we realize it must have been tempting.>

The (New) Adventures of Steel Bladder and AmBEAR GRYLL

Scrambling^a past the sign "Eagle River--26 miles^b", Steely^c struggled to keep an injured^d--yet fast-striding^e--AmBEAR^f in sight^g. Winding^h down the valleyⁱ, through^j (not over) the glacier-fed river^k, past the broken beehive^l, plentiful^m bear scat, manyⁿ sauntering hikers^o, until (10 hours later^p) the intrepid adventurers made a disappointing discovery:
No rootbeer^q at rainbow's end.

^a In case I wasn't sure, it was immediately clear from the first five seconds that this would not be a leisurely stroll through the woods. AmBEAR strode away from the car at a pace that would make greyhounds proud. Uphill. We'd start out together, she'd quickly outdistance me (even though I was often taking quicker steps than she was, I still lagged--curses to my short legs!), draw farther ahead, wait for me to catch up, and we'd plunge into another round of the cycle. I told her I'd just meet her at the pass, but she very magnanimously continued her stutter-stop-go rhythm to keep me within eyesight. Perhaps it was because I carried the bear spray? ;o)
^b Official mileage for the trek from Girdwood to Eagle River via Crow Pass has long been a hotly contested debate. Depending on your source, the distance varies from 23 miles to 27 miles (many miles more, if you're like Chandra and AmBEAR of years ago and take many unplanned side trips due to a brief, but debilitating, bout of being directionally-challenged). But the sign said 26 miles, so that's what I'll go with. If we had successfully purloined Rod's Garmin early that morning, I would know for sure--darn it--but we opted to be gracious and let the Hutchings sleep.
^c Though my own given name has always been (unjustly) suspected to be a nickname, I really have made it through most of my life without any nicknames. Should I feel Lucky or Left Out? The noticeable exceptions being when AmBEAR lovingly refers to me as "Twin #2", or the brief time back in high school when Stephen's younger sister, Emily, couldn't pronounce "Rahni" and thus adorably dubbed me "Brownie". Didn't last, though. So I was rather surprised when AmBEAR turned on the trail (after about 20 miles) and said (with a grin), "How're you holding up there, Steel Bladder?" You could just hear the capital letters in her tone. I kind of wish that this nickname came out of nowhere but, alas, there's a story highlighting my stupidity behind it. Let's just say that I'm not a fan of answering the call of nature IN nature. How can I get around that? I pondered. Aha! I'll purposely dehydrate myself, thus ridding myself of the pesky quandary altogether! As you can tell, I'm no Danielle Boone. That genius idea ended with Chandra holding her puny water bottle in the rushing current of a friendly-looking creek about 16 miles in while I chanted, "Please don't kill us, please don't kill us, we have no way to purify you, please don't kill us." Apparently, some people will remember any little story involving foolishness on my part.
^d Bum knee, blistered feet, possible shoulder fracture? That's nothing to athletes such as my sister. And I thought I'd be the stronger one in this adventure. Nope.
^e For awhile I consoled myself that I'd surely excel at the downhill portion of the route. Well, I immediately jammed my big toe in my enthusiasm to pull ahead, thus ended up limping behind AmBEAR once again. On a constant downhill or constant flat route, I could keep pace, but given any uphills? I was toast. Also, around mud. I hate mud. I'm squeamish and tend to slow wa-ay down around the squishy stuff. I was quietly horrified by AmBEAR's unconcerned approach to mud bogs (straight through) and often had to stop myself from leaning forward and brushing off mud splatters from her legs. I know what you're thinking. Poor AmBEAR, why did she choose Steely for a hiking partner? Well, son, pickings were slim and you got to "dance with the one that brought you." Rather, the one that you brought.
^f A word about the nickname . . . genius, right? Not being a Discovery Channel surfer (or wherever you watch nature programs and such), I'm only familiar with Bear Gryll because he's featured on the front of a book that I often have to reshelve at B&N. But Amber is so the female version of him! As far as I can tell, at least. She takes on each ridge and path as though she's insulted it's in her way. Onward, despite pain, despite weariness, hunger, lagging hiking partners and everything. Awesome, awesome endurance and fortitude. AND cheerful and upbeat the whole time? Is she woman or wo-machine? If it's anything but storming weather outside and she's got a free minute, she wants to be out there in the world, taking on any new adventure within reach. Makes me tired, just thinking about her "recreational" time.
^g Beautiful day--fall colors, warm sun, awesome scenery. No wildlife, though, beyond some dogs, a squirrel (chipmunk?) and an unusual bird.
^h At one point, we turned around to see where we had come from only to discover that we had no exact idea where on earth the trail was behind us. Good thing it wasn't an out-and-back hike.
ⁱ Nothing like hiking for miles through brush higher than your head in bear country to keep you on edge.
^j Blessed with bad luck in that river, I've never once crossed at the suggested crossing zone. Neither has AmBEAR. Or, I believe, Chandra. Perhaps if we stopped trying to take shortcuts alongside the riverbank?
^k You can SEE the glacier that provides the swiftly-flowing frigid water that marks the half-way point to Eagle River. I knew I was in trouble when my several-inches-taller sister struggled through water up to her zipper. Both times now that I've crossed this behemoth, I've been blessed by an undesirably clear insight: This is how people die! If I was to trip in this river, there's no way I'd get out--I'd be paralyzed down to my pinky toes with bone-chilling spasms. That river is by far the coldest thing I've ever experienced in my life. When we got to the other side and collapsed on the bank, both AmBEAR and I had to scream and yell to as an outlet for our pain. There are bridges over almost every other wet spot along the trail. WHY NOT HERE?
^l The last time I hiked this trail, Chandra (walking ahead of me) obliviously whacked a beehive with her trekking pole and the bees (being a little slow to catch on) missed their actual antagonist and targeted innocent me. I got five bee stings. Another case of mistaken identity. It's hard to be a twin, sometimes. This time, I wisely avoided bothering the bees swarming around their broken hive that blocked the path.
^m Early on, I asked AmBEAR to point out bear scat, should she see any. For an Alaskan, I've always been remarkably ignorant of what bear scat looks like. Well, no worries, I'm quite educated now. We saw LOTS. Which was informative and illuminating, if not comforting.
ⁿ Not as many as AmBEAR had hoped, though. She was looking forward to passing crowds of 2-day and 3-day hikers. Apparently, the greater Anchorage area decided to spend Labor day not-laboring elsewhere.
^o In particular, one slow-moving group that we passed petitioned us, "If you see a gold Expedition in the parking lot with a guy named Chris, could you tell him we're coming?" And, indeed, we did meet their genial gentleman driver, 1.7 miles from the parking lot, hiking in to meet them. Nice man.
^p I naively thought that it'd take us around 11-12 hours to do this hike, only to find out that AmBEAR was hoping for 8, but allowed for 9 hours (river crossings, stopping for food, etc.). I didn't learn this until we started up up up the trail. In a complete opposite direction than I am prone to take, AmBEAR showed no irritation when our pace didn't meet her expectations. Amazing, really, her positive outlook. She probably had plans for the evening that she had to re-strategize. Seriously, though, I don't see how we failed to meet the 9 hours. We were STRIDING the whole time. Which is kind of sad, actually, that I kept falling behind not because I was stopping, but because I was just a slower hiker.

^qAmBEAR sparked our hopes with memories of a soda machine at the trail's end. We started waxing philosophical about food in general, and about an ice-cold rootbeer, in particular. I even had some Eagle River-soaked singles in my pocket to bring our dreams to life. When we reached the parking lot, I spared nary a glace to our ride home, but headed straightaway to the Nature Center, only to find that it was closed, due to the holiday. Wouldn't you think that destination places like this would be open on such holidays! Sadness. You'd think I'd have known better. One time, back in high school, I was called upon to pick up a weary and ravenous Patrick and Ryan in that same parking lot and they were absolutely starving. We ended up stopping by a convenience store to take the edge off their hunger, as they couldn't wait for Anchorage's all-night fast-food restaurants. This hike burns some calories, I tell you.

Pucker Up

I startled a co-worker the other day with my whistling. He was not, however, as you may have assumed, overcome with shock in regard to my prodigous talent--he was just shocked about my gender. Hmmm . . . that didn't come out quite right. Before you judge (I feel I may say this without undue bragging: I am quite obviously a girl--no ambiguous squinting necessary), let me explain. Turns out that he grew up on an island off the coast of Brazil, and it was accepted in his culture that only men whistled. He's never even heard a whistle from his own sister. Wait till he hears the rendition of Fur Elise that I've been working on! :)P.S. You know how curling your tongue, attached earlobes, etc., are genetically-granted traits and all that? Is whistling? AmBEAR and I were debating this along our Crow Creek trek last week. If so, then how come I can whistle, but my IDENTICAL TWIN CAN'T? It's a puzzle.

Mister Blister

I like to include pictures in my blog (usually obtained from Google>images)--mostly to apologize for the lack of actual pictures from my life--but let me just warn you now: Do not seek out blister pictures! I'm still shuddering. On the inside. This will just be a text post.

Situation: Blister appears on appendage.
Solution: ???

I'm sure that many people, most people, do not devote nearly as much time, worry, or attention to such trivialities as a small-ish blister on their little toe. It took me a little bit of time to even accept the fact that I even had a blister after my 26-mile trek on Monday. I've got oddly-shaped toes. It's an annoyance that I've come to accept as fact. 19 years later, and I still remember Chandra commenting on how her current flirtation partner said she had short, fat feet. (Thanks, Gordon.) ;o) You know, you aim your comment at one twin . . . sometimes it hits them both. Double home run! Strangely enough, though, I haven't gotten a blister in years and years and years, so my recently acquired blemish caused my brow to furrow and my fingers to dial. I asked for advice from everyone . . . track coaches, co-workers, family, Wikipedia. Only to find, after two days or so of research, that my blister had abated on its own. Drama over. Not really worthy of even a whole post entry, but I think the only way to purge those pictures from my mind is virtual transference from thought to blog. Thanks for being the outlet to my horror.

STRANGErs

You know, there are a lot of people in my life.

--customers at the bookstore (having been there for seven years, quite a few people now recognize me)
--school kids (in a school of 2400 kids--not even counting the continuous rollover of new freshman classes and departing senior classes)
--co-workers (a fluctuating near-80 from B&N, as well as 130 from school)
--church members
--family
--family of family
--friends of family (Why do my nieces collect friends in pairs? Two Ambers, numerous Sarahs, etc., etc.)
--friends of my own collected throughout my 32 years
--random acquaintances from those years
--plus all the people out there who mistake me for my twin and just think that they know me and thus smile and wave at me . . .

WHEW. It's just a LOT of people. And, frankly, I've never been good with names. It's often pretty obvious, despite my not-so-subtle ways of covering my ignorance. In fact, I'm inclined throw a faltering, "Hello! No, no, it's so good to see you!" to anyone with a persistant smile.

Back in July, a STRANGEr approached me at the puzzles rack in Barnes & Noble while I was putting away some stray merchandise. Well, I was also casting an appraising eye over the new batch of bamboozlers for my own personal interests. I was startled from my perusal by a politely inquisitive "Are you Rahni?" in my ear. Straightening guiltily, I answered in the affirmative, expecting that perhaps one of my co-workers had sent him to me so that I might help him with a book query.

STRANGEr: Do you remember me? It's Patrick! From East!
(At least I had a name and starting place, though working at the same high school I attended as a youth caused me to wonder East now or East then?)
FakerRahni: Of course! How's it going?
(The conversation continues as I try to stay to general topics, frantically trying to glean knowledge from his answers, only to lead to this . . .)
STRANGEr(namedPatrick): . . . so then I saw you in the store and I had to say hello! (He pulls a wallet-sized photo out of his shirt pocket) Check it out!
StartledRahni: Oh! My senior photo. How . . . surprising.

(For those of you who are thinking, "Stalker! Who walks around with a senior photo from the 90's in their pocket and happens to run into the very subject of the picture? Chance? I think not." These were not my thoughts. I was merely surprised to be confronted with the least favorite of my painfully self-aware poses, and was still frantically trying to place this mysterious "Patrick". I breathed a sigh of relief when I read the inscription on the back and some memories fell into place--Orchestra, lowerclassman, short and blond. I looked at him now--tall, tanned, great smile, still blond. Good changes, overall.)

PrettyPatrick: Yeah, I'm moving to Wyoming and I have all my earthly belongings packed into my truck out there in the parking lot. I found this picture in my instrument case and just had to come in and say "hi". Just too big a coincidence. *engaging grin*

We said goodbye and good luck, and I made my way back to the receiving room to continue my shift. Always with a story on hand, I did not fail to share this gem. Unfailingly, everyone's first reaction was of eyebrow-raised stalker-esque suspicion. I guess I just didn't tell it right. AND, they didn't see him--the years were nice to young Patrick. Strange coincidence, though.

Facebook sans my face

I'm really not a Facebook-er, or a Tweeter, for that matter. I just don't see the appeal. Which is fortunate, actually, because I have virtually no easy way to maintain an account. I'm really only ever on the computer at school (if I manage to shoot off an email or a quick blog post on my lunch breaks, I'm lucky), and Facebook--as well as its dubious predecessor, MySpace--is blocked through the school district filters. I've been assured that if I spent some time cruising around that virtual community, I'd be hooked. I have no doubt that, given time, I would indeed be one of the most devoted of Facebook devotees. (It would have to be A LOT of time, though--why do I care if someone just took a quiz? In the looking I've done so far, I rarely find out what's actually happening in anybody's life. I much prefer reading a blog or an email, if given only electronic options.) But I am ridiculously easy to reel into new gadgets and hobbies. Just taking an errant walk down the cake decorating aisle at Michael's resulted in my cake decorating stash to multiply from a measly spatula and square cake pan, to a cake leveler, a set of differently-sized cake pans, professional icing, and all sorts of other gadgetry. I used the collection once and moved on. Being well aware of my addictive nature, I try not to even glance towards the Spider Solitaire icon that graces many a computer desktop.

Truthfully, though, I caved a few months ago and made a profile. A fake profile, that is. The reason for the false name? The very day I was driven to Facebook (I decided it was finally time to figure out how to get back in contact with my long-lost 10th cousin/college roommate, Dawn--how crazy is that, huh, that my totally random college roommate and I ended up having a common ancestor born in 1607?), I was approached by three random people who recognized me--one quite enthusiastically--but did I have even a sliver of an idea about who they were? Not a clue. I'm really not seeking out more moments like that in my life. Plus, am I looking for more ways to disappoint people who are already in my life with even more ways to snub them through lack of regular communication? Nope. Though I don't really intend to snub! It's just that I'm a really bad corresponder!! You, know, my advice is to just expect it. Expect me to fail to stay in touch. Doesn't mean I'm not thinking of you! (Eve and I totally have this understanding down. I know she's not offended if months and months go by and vice versa. It's a very relaxing relationship.) Don't lift your hopes up just to see them crashing down later. Isn't that just the worse defense? "Don't blame me, I'll never get better?" Hmmm . . . I'll work on it. Still, though, regard this message as a caveat to knowing me.

It's really quite amazing that I've continued this blog now for a year--minus June, that is. It is, after all, some form of communication, or at least of journalling. Never kept that up for a year, either. Ah . . . it's a brand new world.

P.S. Gail, I don't know if I'm the R.J. you referred to in your Facebook post, but that's what inspired this rambling explanation!

I'm flexing my fingers

There's a bit of exhilaration in the air when Fall rolls around. Parents are excited to see spazzy children sent off to contained classrooms--even the kids themselves feel a jangle of nerves and tingles of excitement as they purchase new school supplies and contemplate how to decorate their lockers. Some people think of freshly-sharpened pencil bouquets, others dream of cute new outfits to show off to friends--I start flexing my fingers. Summer just does not beckon one to bouts of ferocious industry. It's a lazy, languorous haze of sleeping in, driving with the windows down, forgetting the date (or even the day) when you finally have to write it down again--even being able to spend time with friends! I don't usually get a whole lot of productive projects done in the summer. Finding a computer to keep up communication with friends is almost too taxing to consider, when such other (easier) options to lull one away. But my 9 1/2 digits are feeling limber, finally, so watch out! A plethora of posts are forthcoming!

Have you heard the news?

Archie is choosing Veronica! I can honestly say that I never thought I'd see the day. The fact that any decision will be made at all after 70 years of waffling is shocking enough, but Veronica? I'm not sure how I feel about that. Check out this article from npr.org.