Week in Review

In lieu of spending a lot of time dwelling on a week that I'd frankly like to strike from the annals of history, I'm simply going to offer the world at large some great advice that will, in all likelihood, be ignored.

Things NOT to do in your life:

-Give your friend a book called "The Ethical Slut" when her new boyfriend is present

-Waste a lot of time reading boring books. Seriously? Give yourself 50 pages. If you're not digging it, put it down.

-Dwell on the negative shit.

-Lie to yourself.

-Eat a vegetable smoothie that is little more than vegetable pulp. We've got Mr. Melmeister to thank for that.

And with those wise words, I bid you goodnight with the hopes that for all of us, this next week is a better one.

Thankful Thursdays: Good News

It's been a long, frustrating kind of week, made worse by my own inclinations towards negativity, and the slow progress I am making on various weekly and monthly projects. But there are little bright spots, here and there. What stands out the most was this morning, when I was on the Info Desk, a friendly-faced, middle-aged gentleman (complete stranger) came up to the desk and said, "I just have to tell someone. I'm so excited. I just got accepted into college. I'm going back to school!"

Even remembering it now, at the end of the day, I get goosebumps of pleasure. I remember that feeling of bursting if you can't share a piece of life-altering good news with whomever you can, even if it's a stranger or someone who doesn't really know why the news means so much to you. And it's true--I don't know just what it meant to him. But I know it meant that much to him, to share his excitement with me. I did my best to put genuine enthusiasm and encouragement and delight into my reaction, and I hope it was enough to gratify him and keep him buoyed until he could celebrate with those who know him best.

Thank you, Mr. Stranger, for including me in your joy today.

Feeling Fabulous: New Clothes

A new blouse from Ross: $8

The feeling of awesomeness and energy that comes from wearing a new article of clothing:

PRICELESS.

Seriously, I KNOW I am not the only one that feels downright fabulous and even, like, sparkly when I wear something new and pretty. Even a new bra or pair of shoes can do it for me. So I was able to waltz into work this morning with a ginormous to-do list and a fun new blouse and my make-up all done, and was able to feel like I was gonna have a kickin' day. And for the most part, I did. Lots of projects and irons in the fire, but I was able to get a good start on a lot of them. 

At one point today, I was able to make a pretty darned mature--but difficult--decision. The Cap'n pointed out to me today that we'll soon have a new reference librarian to train, and wanted to know if I wanted to do it. I struggled with this, because hells yeah, I want to. I enjoy it, and I feel like it's a way for me to develop leadership/mentoring chops. But the last time I trained librarians, the results were mixed, and anyway, I have to do the event brochure, and I'm going on vacation in three weeks. So, after a brief struggle, I pointed all of this out to her, and then decided, "Let Papa Bear train them," I told the Cap'n. "He's more laid-back than I am--it'll be better for them. And he's on the desk more than I am anyway."

Sometimes leadership means making the decisions that are best for the team as a whole, even if it's not what you yourself want.

If wearing new clothes helps me make things kinds of decisions, bring on the Ross Shopping Spree, thank you very much!

Manic Monday: The Week Ahead

As always, I let the picture do the talking on this one.

Week in Review

What I Read: I tore through Sarah Addison Allen's latest, The Lost Lake, in a few hours, but it was The Grapes of Wrath that took most of my attention and time over the last seven days, and rightly so. I wouldn't call it THE Great American Novel, but it is certainly a Great American Novel. Reading it was less of an action and more of an experience--almost as though I witnessed the Great Depression myself. Every American needs to read this book; it is part of our history and heritage, and reading it left me feeling humbled and yet, oddly, honored.

What I Watched: Sharknado was the feature film of Awful Movie Night. This was also the first Awful Movie Night that I managed to be sober for. And do you know, I still have a hard time remembering the godawful jokes we made. All I can say is this: Tara Reid and Ian Ziering, I'm so happy to see that you've kept your acting skills so fresh. No other actors could have pulled off the performance that you guys gave when the hurricane of hammerheads tore through downtown Los Angeles.

What I Thought About: Friends, and how goddamned hard it is for me to make them. Seems like every time I befriend someone in my age range, they turn around and leave the Desert. And because I spend so much time at work, I just seem to want to focus on and enrich my relationships there. Is that normal?

The Good: At long last, I resurrected The Book Maven on Facebook. She went quiet during the whole holidays-my-mom-is-dead-I-sold-my-soul-to-work whirlwind of November, December, and January, but truly, if there is something I like more than books and reading, it's talking about books and reading.

The Sad: One of our presenters died, suddenly, in January. It was an exceptional loss; this man was funny and friendly and entertaining and undemanding and just a delight to work with. So on Monday I attended the memorial for him. The last remembrance came from the youngest person in the room--an art student from his classes, who gave a raw and almost incoherently tearful speech about him. It was the most unpolished remembrance--and the most affecting, not just because of the man we were remembering, but for the honest emotions of youth that, for better or for worse, we smother as we age.

The Ugly: Realizing that things like Awful Movie Night and ABCF Club are, in fact, more enjoyable with a few gallons of wine flowing. Two weeks left of Dry Month!

The Pretty: Seeing the Happy Birthday wish on the monument sign, glowing in the deepening desert twilight on the night before our Director's birthday; listening to the wind blowing through the windchimes on the back patio; and burrowing deeper under the blankets on a chilly Sunday morning. Doesn't matter if I live in Florida or Indiana or California; when a morning is cold enough, your bed is always the coziest place to be.

January, in a Nutshell

Month in Review: January 2014

Poor January. It must be exhausting work, being January. It is, quite literally, the firstborn child of the year, and like the stereotypical firstborn, it comes to the world with a lot of people expecting a lot of it (when really, they should be expecting it of themselves.) With all those hopes and goals and resolutions crowding in and  riding on January and demanding attention and effort, it's no wonder that this month is almost destined to disappoint us.

Oddly, though, I wasn't disappointed in this month. Not in the least. Maybe it's because so much of my life is crowded with lists of plans and goals and objectives...what's one more list of plans going to count? And if this list of goals just so happens to bear a title of "New Year's Resolutions"...well, really, it's just another to-do list, after all. All in a day's work...or, in this case, a year's work. 

Some of the highlights of January

Reading 12.5 Books ; the highlight being, without a doubt, The Life of Pi, by Yann Martel. I don't spend a lot of time thinking about religion or even spirituality these days, but this book, in the most humble and loving way possible, actually got me pondering things again. And the final thing that stuck with me: if the outcome of the story does not change, why not render the meat of the story as tasty as possible?

Reaching out to Family:y My mother is dead. My father is not in the picture. My grandparents are very, very old. My two sisters and I have all elected not to have children. On my father's side, he only has one brother who had children, and they are not in touch with him. On my mother's side, she had two siblings--now dead. Her sister had one daughter. Getting the picture? Of immediate family, we have not much. My grandparents, however, had, like 14 brothers and sisters between them, which makes for a lot of great aunts and uncles and second cousins and oh lord, don't even get me started on the "removed" thing I will never figure it out. The point being, of course, that there is some distant family to be had, and at this point, I'll take what I can get. So I reached out to Great Aunt Wilma in January...and now am in touch with her and my second cousin Leah. So far, no icky family secrets coming out, but there's plenty of time. And plenty of relatives still to contact.

Building Up Team Mel: This wasn't the most social month I've ever had, but I've certainly done less in the past. I managed to spend some time with GI Jo before she moved away, and I did my best to hunt down an old grad school friend-- I went so far as to send her a letter to her last address I could find--and I spent an evening with Angie in downtown Palm Springs, and made a potential new geek friend, and even managed to cram in an Awful Movie Night before the end of the month. (Sharknado, anyone?)

Quote for the Ages: "Don't write what you know. Write what you wonder about." -Maggie Shipstead

We had our very first Sunnydale Writers Forum this month, and novelist Maggie Shipstead was one of the featured authors. She gave this sage advice, and I must say, it has stuck in my head. It was a little assurance that yes, maybe it is okay for me to write about the thing that I'm curious about. (And let's face it, if I stuck to writing what I know, I'd be writing a bunch of stuff about books and potato chips and vainly protesting the patriarchy). Of course, what I wonder about is something that will require extensive research, so ideally, I WILL end up knowing about it, but that's okay. It was the little nudge that I needed to re-start that Novel Idea I've been kicking around for the past ten years.

So, In summary:

 January, you sucked much less than I thought you would.

I'll Have a Side of Heavy Thoughts With that Church Supper Recipe Book, Please

When going through the Momster's house after she died, trying to sort out paperwork and medications and throw out food and dodge felines, my sisters and I came across all manner of interesting items. I remember many rosaries and an ungodly yet entirely predictable number of books, wrapped-up gifts for someone's children (also predictably, not us), cat toys galore...I had to buy a Sherpa soft-sided pet carrier and a duffle bag to haul home my curious inheritance, which includes:

And also, this:  

Now, you might be wondering, what on earth does this calorie-laden publication have to do with the Melmeister's recovering-alcoholic and very dead mother?

The answer of course is: EVERYTHING.

And it also leads to another question: what on earth was my mother doing with this? I'm guessing it was just an impulse buy at the grocery store or Walgreens or something; goodness knows I'm susceptible to this as well. But why did she get it? For all the church socials and intimate get-togethers she didn't go to? Did she want to whip up some of the recipes? History is, and shall remain, silent about this. But tonight, as I was lazily flipping through the pages, I felt, vaguely, the presence of a ghost. Not an actual ghost, of course, but rather an insubstantial but mournful wraith of all the things that went undone in her life, all the things she didn't achieve on her "Bucket List" that she threw together after her diagnosis, and which we found the night before I flew back to California. This Taste of Home magazine, all of a sudden, represented all of her life she hadn't actually, actively lived; the deeds left undone, the words unsaid, the profundities unwritten, the roads not taken, the dinners not cooked. But, I daresay, all of it imagined. 

And perhaps, even feared. Who knows? Maybe it was the fear that kept her from doing all that she thought about. But I know that in more than a few ways, my life does mirror hers: I am a person who embraces an internal, solitary existence--I'm surrounded by people yet regularly retreat to an inner landscape as unpopulated as I can wish for-- I admire and acquire pretty and pleasing things and then let them go unconsumed and unenjoyed, and I imagine the life I could lead, that I want to lead, some day, but don't. Not right now. 

My mother's right nows ran out. She had no more some days left.

And some day (ha), I won't either.