Now that I have all my ducks in a row

Just kidding. I still have two closets to reorganize. And bread to bake and a resume to update and appointments to make and thank-you notes to write.

But, at least the holiday part is over. I hate to be all bah-humbug about it, but it gets so stressful.

Do you make new year's resolutions? I do. But I don't tell anybody about them. That way, if I actually do them it's a surprise. I loves me a good surprise. Of course, I always vow to get more organized and exercise more. The organization part is coming along (just look at my ducks!). But the exercise part always gets away from me. It's just not my thing. In my spare time, I would much rather be horizontal with my face in a book. But who knows...maybe this year will be different.

Happy New Year!

I got nuthin'

Brain hurts. Here's some ze frank. Enjoy.

I solemnly swear ...

... not to start any new "fun" books until this semester is over. Really. I'm not going to start any more. Because they call to me in that suggestive way and I cannot resist them. And then, I don't get any school work done.





Oh, and here's something fun. I keep a list of words that I come across where I have NO IDEA of their meaning. And someday, I'm going to look them all up. But for right now, here's my list (you should post if you know the meanings of any of these):
morass
Zeugma
antediluvian
Chicaneries
Pedantic
aplomb
doppelganger
apropos
floatsam and jetsam

I used to have hubris in there, but I took that out. I've learned more than enough about hubris in the past two months.

Posting a funny clip and then complaining (but not about the clip)

Oh, my my my my my my. I guess the title should be "Complaining about stuff and THEN posting a funny clip". I need to get outside and plant my 100 bulbs so that springtime will be full of tulips and daffodils instead of just mud and wind. Instead, I'm stuck in that mopey mood where I sigh a lot and fuss about the large amount of unfriendly housework and difficult schoolwork and frustrating parenting that needs to be done. And, surprisingly enough, fussing about it doesn't make it get done. That's the bad part.

I did a presentation in my editing class about relationships between editors and writers and I found this little gem. Funny funny funny.



And now it's time for me to return to the moping part of my day.

Fun at Queen Street library

Look! It's my library room!

Now that I'm in school, I spend the same two hours in the library on Queen Street every day, and I’m starting to recognize people who work here or who come here often.

I spend all my time in the special collections room. It’s a nice room. It has a glass wall in front so I can see the main desk and the front door, but the glass keeps the noise out.

Here are descriptions of some of my friends:

There’s the guy who comes in about a half hour after me. He’s maybe 50+ years old. Wears a baseball cap. Moustache. Glasses. I would guess that he’s a writer. He whooshes in here like someone is chasing him and plunks his computer down on a table. I can’t sit next to him because he’s so loud. If he sits next to me, I move. I don’t want to be unfriendly, but I am a very super extremely distractable person and I can’t take that kind of action. He types loudly and he does not have the sound turned down on his laptop, so there is a lot of beeping and an occasional “ta dahhhhhhh!” going on near him. He stays longer than I. He drinks a lot of coffee.

There’s a librarian guy who I can’t figure out. He’s maybe in his 30’s. What do you suppose a library job pays? Maybe he’s a writer on the side and he just works at the library putting books away to keep the lights on in his efficiency apartment over the corner store. I bet he’s secretly writing a slasher novel. Or one of those period sci-fi fantasy novels with knights and fairies that I love to read lately. Or else he’s a student. Getting his doctorate degree in zoology.

There’s a short, pompous heavy-set librarian guy who actually seems to be very sweet despite the pompous demeanor. That’s just a coping skill anyway. He loves to talk with people who come in looking for information about the area. He will just talk and talk and talk and talk. It is mostly older ladies who come in looking for this type of info about Alexandria for their Rotary Club or church. They love him.

And then there’s the olive-skinned dark-haired short guy who is very serious. He’s here most days, but sometimes he takes a day off. He’s not here today. He works with a laptop, but he’s not typing away at it all the time like me or the writer-guy are always doing. He carries a day planner. But no school books or other books.

And there’s old-reader guy. Large glasses. Ponytail. Pants too short. He doesn’t sit in the special collections area, though. He sits in an armchair just outside the room. He’s here when I get here and he’s here when I leave. And he reads and reads and reads. I wonder why he uses the library as his living room. What does his real living room look like? Does he come here because he’s lonely? Is he homeless? He’s not the best dressed guy, but he looks fairly clean, so I don’t think he is homeless. He must be interesting to talk to. What with all the reading. But I’ll never talk to him. Don’t feed the bears and all.

The special collections area is pretty small. Sometimes, I wonder what would happen if I stood up and did something totally inappropriate. Like if I had a question while I’m doing an assignment and I just stood up and said, “Hey! Does anyone know another word for inaccurate?” Or something like that. Or, if I just yelled curse words. It makes me laugh to think about it, but it also makes me blush something awful just to think of it. So I had better not do it.

What the heck am I reading?

I've been in bed at 8 pm every night with a book. I'm starting to miss TV, but I have a date with myself and an ironing board and non-stop HGTV on Thursday. So, what is keeping me reading in bed every night? Well, I have those textbooks to read, of course. And also:


How do I love this book? Let me count the ways...hmmmmmmmmm. Well...I love it, the YA (young adult) fiction. Also, the story is simply amazing. It is a fantastic tale of friendship and courage and making things happen. It's also about how a journey can be more rewarding than the destination. I liked it so much that I'm reading it to the wee folk.

And, for my next pick (do NOT make fun of me):


Yes, I'm still concerned that I'm going to be stupid in school. And no, the 3.87 GPA that I had the last time I took a swing at graduate school does nothing to help assuage my fears. I feel very not smart. Maybe this will help.

And last (and definitely the juiciest):



This is the second book in the series. I read the first in June. An endlessly entertaining epic adventure.

So, how about you? What are you reading?

You Mean I Can't Just Buy a New Brain on Ebay???

Darnit. Even though I've spent a lot of time wishing I had a better one, this hunka hunka grey jelly is going to have to do.

It's a shame, really, that this brain mostly thinks about food and cute sweaters. That's all well and good, of course, but I have graduate school to think about and, unfortunately, cute sweaters are not involved (merely incidental...or accidental, as is my usual case).

I guess, instead of envying other, better brains, I think I should try to train the brain I have. It did pretty well for me in college. Can I bring it back up to that level? If not, that leaves me with only very complicated and Frankenstein-like options

I'm very worried that I can't make it happen. The poor brain has atrophied. Major atrophied. It has been subjected to lack of sleep and hormones and the stress of soothing crying babies and the ridiculousness of trying to reason with bothered toddlers. It has been stimulated by caffeine, pickled in wine and sedated with endless episodes of What Not to Wear (psst...the answer is, "everything in my closet").

But yet, I enroll in an MA program. Am I just ASKING for trouble???

So, this week I started a program focused on healing the brain. I got more sleep. I cut down on the caffeine (only 2 pepsi max in the morning plus one cup of coffee). I started taking Omega 3. I finally remembered to buy that book about memory. I bought flax seed oil (and I cooked these delightful treats that my children hated and I loved ("Good!", I said, "More for me!")).

Will it all work?

I have no idea, but here's a current status report...

The Omega-3 chewables gag me and have upset my delicate little system which was quite happy with the status-quo of chocolate and cheese (and coffee and soda, of course). Getting more sleep is great, but not always an option with one frequent-nightmarer and a sleepwalker (who actually will go outside) among us ... not to mention my own wacky sleep habits (yeah, I walk and talk in my sleep too...it's a Peterson thing). Cutting down on the caffeine is workable and I'll try to remember to read the memory book (if I can remember to remind myself, that is).

I guess time will tell. This morning, I was reading Laini Taylor's blog where she writes about working with the brain you have instead of wishing for a better one. Inspiring words, to be sure.

However, I am comforted to know that there is always that Frankenstein option [thunder booms in the background].