The Blessing of Double Vision!

I was trying to read the NYT online today, and it didn't go as well as hoped--glary double vision and all.  However, in the Fashion & Style section of all places (hello, Sports?), it did ask me "Can Paul Rabil Make Lacrosse Sexy?". 

Do they need to ask, seriously?    It reminded me of a line I read a while ago in a romance book that made me giggle: "He smiled then and made her heart spring like a lemming flinging itself into the sea." Best. Line. Ever.  And I could see it applied to my double-visioned person of beauty. 

And, maybe he'll be the one that will bring some positive press to the sport.

I know It's All Relative: I Cheer for the Chilean Miners, but Me? I'm Angry and Icky and Bookless!

Twelve days ago I got hit with my first migraine ever. Knocked me on my ass...hard. I drove myself to the hospital. Not the smartest move ever.  I don't remember much but some honking, so am assuming I drove really slow. Cause that's how I was feeling...sloooowwwwwww, distorted, like a off-kilter sound-wave.

I got to one hospital and got transfered to another and then spent five days on Dilauded (sp?) ...lots of it. Dreamy. I gotta say that for the first time I understand the whole addiction thing.

Got sent home cause I was "healed"...but unfortunately still have migraine. Saw some new doctors and they want me to wait for their new meds to take effect--up to two weeks. This makes me angry...I'm taking notes on how their meds are affecting me and I've got some suggestions, but no....I'm just the tottering, squinting, slow-talker they will see next Tuesday. 

There are a lot of sucky things about this...first is the fact that I don't know when this is going to end.  Everyone says it won't last much longer.  Everone else says they can't believe it's lasted this long.  So, I'm trying to stay on the edge of curious, but I don't do well when I can't see what's out in front of me. At all.

I guess it's not all bad.  My son did get some laughs telling the story about how Mommy projectile vomited all over herself and the passenger seat of the car when we were all stuck in rush-hour traffic on the way home from the doctor. He did not like giving up his shirt to me so I could wipe my face off, but that's the price you pay for funny.

Everyone, and I do mean everyone tells me to not worry, about anything. Is that possible?  Seriously?  How do I not worry about how the pressure is affecting my husband who is disabled and about how tired he looks, that my son has suddenly developed a lot of tummy aches, my daughter is suddenly obsessed about fairness in terms of good and bad people, about falling behind at work and putting pressure on an already understaffed department.  I am not the type of person who can lie still in a dark room not worrying about stuff even though her head would feel better if I smashed my hand in a car door.  Twice.  Hard.

Along with the pain in my head, my body feels gross.  I'm eating less because chewing hurts.  I can't stand the taste of my elixir of life, Diet Pepsi anymore, so I'm drinking more water than is possibly good for you.  Yet my skin is blah, my nails are cracky, my hair is so-so.   I find myself getting weepy when shows like Criminal Minds and NCIS use emotional quotes.  So you can see I'm a disaster.

Personally I think it's because of two things...First, I got no 'purpose'...it's not like I'm taking time off to "be at home" or anything, so short of trying not to puke when I move, or playing my new favorite game, "guess which of the double-vision objects is real", there's not a lot of reason in my life right now. I do NOT do that well. 

The second thing is that I can't read right now---I have multiple books just waiting for me to read them..and not just books, magazine articles, web articles, etc.  They are calling to me...all of that knowledge, all of those ideas that are waiting for me to find them. All of those wonderful phrases, sentences...the tempo of a beautifully written paragraph.  Sigh.  All of those bits of information that I put aside until they are ready to be useful for a friend, a client, my family.  It's driving me batty!!!!  More importantly, I feel lost without them on some level.  I do get to listen to my daughter read to me from "Alex and the Ironic Gentleman" by Adrienne Kress.  A really fantastic book for girls of all ages.

So, three hours later, I finish this one tiny blog...more than twice what it usually takes.  Mainly because brain is slow and cranky and double vision typing sucks...and I'm still without...without an end in sight, without an answer as to what to do and dammit all, without a book to read. 

But the fantastic news is that tonight when I totter off to bed, I will quietly kiss my kids goodnight, both of each of them

Guest Post by Luke Sullivan: Never Shop At A Book Store When You Are Stupid

NOTE:  I am lucky enough work with Luke, so I get to read his stuff all of the time.  I thought this was a nice partner to my previous post, so I asked him if I could publish it on my blog and he graciously agreed.  Luke is the author of "Hey Whipple, Squeeze This", his take on creating great advertising.  



You’ve probably heard that saying: “Never go grocery shopping when you’re hungry.” Well, it makes sense. You end up buyin’ all kinds of junk food that looks yummy, or buyin’ way more than you planned on.

Which reminds me of that time I went to a liquor store sober.

Dude. Big mistake. (“Awww, man, gotta get me some of this vodka. And this gin. Get some gin. Ooooo, tequila, get that.”)

 Well, wouldn’t you know it, just the other day I walked into Book People here in Austin…. and I walked in stupid. Because there is so much that I don’t know, well, suddenly I’m reachin’ for every stinkin’ book on the shelves.

(“Gotta get me the new Franzen book. Oh, man, and lookit this new Blackwell title, ‘Outliers.’ He’s so smart, gotta git that.”)
Man oh man, I nearly flattened the embossed numbers on my Mastercard.

You know what might cure me of this book problem?

The new Kindle. Reason I say that is because the ads say the new Kindle can store 3,500 titles. Three thousand five hundred titles?

Here’s the thing. I’m a pretty fast reader. On vacation, I’ve been known to put away a book a day. But even at my best, … 3,500 titles? Polishing off that digital bookshelf would take nine and a half years of constant speed reading. Even Evelyn Wood, the speed-reading queen herself, man, at around book #1,954 … wouldn’t she just blow up?

Do I really need to carry 3,500 books on vacation? A guy named Barry Schwarz wrote a cool book called The Paradox of Choice. His main thesis: “We assume that more choice means greater satisfaction when it fact it means less.” He posits that a massive number of things to choose from can make a person feel bewildered, then anxious, and ultimately less satisfied after taking a purchase decision.

I think I know what Mr. Schwarz’s talkin’ about. Can you imagine if the first iPod’s commercials promised “A Trillion Songs In Your Pocket.” Man, I’d just tip over at the concept of a mathematical eternity burnin’ a hole in my pocket. I’d blow up.

Don’t get me wrong, I happen to love my e-reader (an iPad). But I don’t think the main promise of a Kindle or an iPad is a Brobdingnagian memory. Just gimme a digital L.L.Bean tote’s-worth. Just enough books to get me through the Labor Day weekend.

Reading Requires All 5 Senses!

I read today, online ironically enough, that the Oxford English Dictionary will NOT EVER be printed again--only being available online from the 4th Edition forward.  (see amazing note at end)

Last night, my 10-year old son looked up from the book he got from the library earlier and asked for a Kindle. (Such a funny kid)

The apocolypse is upon us...no one will have to burn books anymore, they'll just have to delete them. Not as dramatic for those doing the burning/deleting, so hopefully satisfaction in that will go way down and thus will go away...but I digress.

The point is that with the move towards electronica, we risk losinig the context of touch, the meaning that comes from the visceral nature of books and not just from the act of reading it.  I agree with Anna Quindlen when she said, basically, "...that she'd be happy if her kids idea of decorating is building enough bookshelves."

Books have a feel, a smell, a heft, a non-biological warmth to them that not only adds to the experience of the read itself, but they add a context to the space they reside in as well--reading Anna Karenina would not have been the teenage pivotal experience (trite, I know) it was for me if it weren't for my ability to remember the weight of it splayed on my stomach as I dozed on the couch in the sun thinking about what I had just read, the feel of the pages under my hand.  Those visceral memories are a direct link to my growing understanding of language, literature, love, loss, and family--and now, simply knowing it is there in the house, occupying the same space, gives me comfort among other things.  
 
George Robert Gissing said it best:  "I know every book of mine by its smell, and I have but to put my nose between the pages to be reminded of all sorts of things." 

Later, giving my son a back scratch before bed, I ask him why there are so many books in bed with him, on his bedside tables, under his bed.  "I don't know Mom, I just like the feel of them, knowing that they are there with me."

"Would you feel the same way if there was a Kindle next to your lamp or on your bed?" I ask.

"Mom", he say disgustedly, "sleeping on a Kindle would be painful.  Besides, I like seeing them around me."

"Exactly."  I smile and kiss him goodnight, knowing that when he has his own house, he'll have lots and lots of bookshelves in it.  And that makes me happy.



Amazing note: The 3rd Edition of the OED has been in the works for 21 years and will take approximately 80 lexographers another 10 years to finish!  Wow!

Ch- Ch- Ch- Ch- Changes, or Not

On the way to her first day of second grade I was a-joshin' and a-jokin' my daughter because she looked and sounded grumpy.  She sounded grumpy a little louder and so I told her I was trying to get her to smile and be happy on this, her first day of second grade.

"Yeah, like that's gonna happen, Mom."  Sarcasm, drip, drip, drippin' with each of her little steps.

Ahh....I guess things haven't changed that much.  Because that's what I was afraid of...things changing.  So, with her attitude firmly in tow, my daughter left me at her classroom door feeling happy and secure.

At the dinner table...even more security!  My son made new friends and could tell us that they were all democrats and were into music.  My daughter's new friends set themselves apart, one because he dressed really cool and the other because they had a "cool dead tooth".  She with her red striped hair fit right into the little group.

And now, my son is singing about going to school tomorrow and my daughter is grumping about getting up early. He's reviewing his math, she's writing her reading minutes in her reading log.  She's got tomorrow's outfit selected and he's only planning on changing out his socks from today's outfit.

Sighhhh, normality.  Happiness is me.

You see, I'm not actually that good with change.  It makes me feel uneasy, out of control.  Not necessarily a good thing either as a parent or in, well, any career. I first noticed this when I was in school.  In elementary school, I felt I would get used to one teacher and then the next year, a different one with a different approach. I would worry about not doing well, that I would do something wrong.

Then, as I became a bigger reader, I found I was more comfortable with historical novels (still am today) than with those that "looked forward", like Orwell's 1984, Aldous Huxley's Brave New World and Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451.  All books about a dystopian future--places I know I wouldn't do that well, quite frankly.  I hated reading them...I could never get comfortable in their skins.

And while time and experience has taught me that change isn't as scary as I make it out to be, making it easier for me to work through, I find myself happier when I'm realizing that things haven't changed as much as I've feared. 

This is not the best role-modeling, I know. And I definately don't want it to be one of the things I pass on to my kids.  But then I glance at my bookshelf and you can see Rubicon by Tom Holland and almost any biography of John Adams, Jefferson, Roosevelt and more.  With fiction, I see The Children's Book by AS Byatt,  The Help by Kathryn Stockett, heck even the romances I read are typically Regency.  I'm surrounded by the past, very little present and absolutely no future.

Now I know these two things probably are loosely tied, if at all. Or maybe not...maybe they are very closely tied together.  Who knows?  Regardless, it is the way I am and is my comfort zone.

So, baby steps...new school year, new things:  tonight, my daughter and I have embarked on reading Gregor the Overlander together.  While ostensibly set in present day, I can pretend it's set in the future and feel like I'm going hog wild in the change department. 

Which is all I can handle given that my son didn't turn bright red tonight when asked about new girls in his class...a definate portending of big changes a-comin'.

Gulp.

This Week, for What It's Worth: A Worthy List

My list for this week, in no particular order:

I miss tiny babies. Mine are older now and I miss their tiny, squishy, cuddly, cooing, baby-powder smelling bodies.

Looking at kids looking at art is awesome.

1/5th of Pakistan is under water. How can that be? 1/5th of an entire country!  It's hard to think about that, Haiti, the Gulf, the Middle East and troops in harm's way without becoming overwhelmed and upset.

Being Muslim is not equivalent to being a terrorist. Not all Christians, nor Jews, Budhists, Russian Orthodox, Sikhs, Hindus, African Diasporics, and/or Neo-Paganists, etc., are the sum of the worst acts of those that practice their religion. C'mon America...let's get this right—there should be mosques and temples and churches, libraries, museums—places of beauty and learning and freedom to help us deal with the horrible things/honor the people that died on 9/11.

I would like to elect people that govern and not politicians.

Funniest line in a romance novel ever: "He smiled then and made her heart spring like a lemming flinging itself into the sea." Best. Line. Ever.

Best advice I gave my son this week: If a girl sees you picking your nose, you can never, ever, ever recover from that with her...or with any of her friends.

I'm re-reading the Brother Cadfael series by Ellis Peters. So well written, such well plotted stories.

When my daughter wears her Scharfen Berger chocolate t-shirt that states "Extra Bitter" on the front...it's a statement of fact.

Read the Mistress of the Art of Death series by Ariana Franklin. Stunning historical novels with a protagonist that puts any modern day forensic scientist to shame. Sorry Bones!

My kids hate it when I sing everything I say to them. I'm funnier than they realize. 

I have good friends. I am lucky.  This week was the Clay Pit in Austin and a bottle of good wine at 50% off.

We do get better at some things with age and practice. I'm just sayin'. Sighhhhhhh.

I am anxious to read "The Blasphemer" by Nigel Farndale. One of the best British books of 2010. Second chance stories...they make me hopeful.

The Economic Security Index says that 20% of American households are facing "utter economic devastation".  Look around folks, we are them.

I love the Allstate "Mayhem" commercials.

School starts next week. Happy and Sad.

I love Laurell K. Hamilton and her Anita Blake, Vampire Killer series.  Great suspense novels that happens to have multiple and complicated love triangles among Anita, a Christian necromancer, wearwolves, vampires and the such. 

My daughter believes that my life gets better every time she enters a room.  She told me this when she woke me up the other day at 1:30 in the morning.  Ta-dah...my life was better.

Where You Are Affects Who You Are, or Back To "The Geography of Bliss"

After every vacation the kids will talk about their favorite moment and this time was no different. 

Elephant seals, dolphins in Santa Cruz, the Musee Mechanique in San Francisco, surfing and boogie boarding in Encinitas, riding horses north of Santa Barbara, the safari tents, Bart's Books in Ojai, marbles with Uncle Ethan, Aunt Heather and Grandma Bonnie and betting the ponies at Del Mar.

These were the agreed upon highlights, and when they ask me what my favorites were, I agree with them that all of those were great, but my super favorites were moments like the one in this picture.  Sitting on Moonstone Beach near the tide pools sifting through the stones, all of us finding "the one" over and over and over again. 

If Eric Weiner, the author of The Geography of Bliss is right, then as he stated in an interview (http://www.twelvebooks.com/)  you can "change your environment and you can change your life. This isn’t running away from your problems but simply recognizing that where we are affects who we are."

I agree with him and even though his book is about more than the vacational-geographic moments of bliss attached to a fleeting experience, I think the idea holds just as true.

As a working mom I don't often have the variety of experiences with my kids each day in which I can be a variety of people with them, but on vacation I can be "professor mom" at the California Academy of Sciences, "silly mom" at the Musee Mechanique, 'football mom' on the beach in Encinitas, "tickle monster" in the pool  and "fire cooker mom" at El Capitan Canyon north of Santa Barbara, "crazy betting mom" at Del Mar....I love these experiences because it is the geography that allows me to be completely free of expectations other than my and their own.

And, no longer how many years go by, I know I can look at the picture above and feel the blissful person that was me in that moment, in that place.