Danger

Deja vu’s coming after you.

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Time and the Art of Not Procrastinating

  • I’ve been working on one of my 30 Must-Read Books, Time and the Art of Living by Robert Grudin. It’s a book on the subject of Time, and it’s a difficult read, as you might expect from a philosophy book written by an English professor on an abstract topic. Time is not something that can gathered into a sample, dissected, and examined under a microscope. But the author did his best to give us a thorough examination of how we experience Time and how to get the most out of it. The book is divided into individual, relatively-short passages. I’ve been attacking the sections randomly and marking each one as I read it. I flagged those that I liked, the ones that seemed worth additional meditation, and/or that I thought might be personally helpful. (Note: I don’t usually approve of writing in books. This one is a softcover from the ’80s, and its pages are foxed and tanned, so it’s already less than pristine.) I’ve made a lot of progress, and I might be able to finish the book this weekend.
  • I’ve tried to read this book before, and I’m so glad that I wrote about my previous attempt. That post contains a cute little snapshot of my life during Livia’s infancy. It is one of those “letters through time” that Grudin was talking about in the quote at the beginning of the post.
  • I have to undecorate the tree this weekend. I don’t want to, but procrastination can really mess things up. As Grudin wrote, “Every time we postpone some necessary event—whether we put off doing the dinner dishes till morning or defer an operation or some difficult labor or study—we do so with the implication that present time is more important than future time. . . . Very often our decision to delay is less a free choice than a semiconscious mechanism—a conspiracy between our reasoning awareness and our native dislike of pain. . . . When we delay something, we simultaneously admit its necessity and refuse to do it. Seen more extensively, habitual delays can clutter our lives, leave us in the annoying position of always having to do yesterday’s chores. Disrespect for the future is a subtly poisonous disrespect for self, and forces us, paradoxically enough, to live in the past.” So true. Better to just get things done and over with.
  • I will also be putting away the Advent calendar today. I’m going to put a list of Christmas ticket ideas into the box with it. Next year, when I open it up, I’ll find that half my work has already been done. That’s what I call “a love letter through time.” ๐Ÿ™‚
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Thankful, Happy, Disappointed, Surprised, & Nostalgic

Today I am feeling . . .

  • Thankful that my work computer is now up-to-date and virus-free. Yesterday the antivirus was malfunctioning so badly that I turned the computer off rather risk a virus running amok on it.
  • Happy to have started work early and accomplished so much.
  • Disappointed that the temperature outside didn’t get high enough to melt the ice off the driveway. I was able to clean the car off, but the driveway is still frozen solid and super slick. It was too dangerous to drive on, so I couldn’t take Livia to her crafting class today.
  • Surprised that my hubby’s storm prep didn’t include buying sand or deicing stuff. Next time I will remind him.
  • Nostalgic for the ’80s. My husband has been listening to ’80s music as he works on the great room. Sometimes I go in there and dance in front of the fireplace.
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Snappy Saying

“No cuts, no buts, no coconuts.”

Livia says that this is what you tell a kid who tries to cut into line.

Good to know.

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Happy and Warm

The outdoor weather station says it’s 0.0 degrees outside. The driveway is a sheet of ice, and my car is frozen shut. Unless there’s an emergency, we’re not going anywhere today. But we’ve got books, Netflix, a jigsaw puzzle, and plenty of hot beverages and soup, so we should be able to keep happy and warm. To everyone living in the frigid parts of the world today, I hope you will keep happy and warm, too.

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Last Nerve

I didn’t know that I had a “last nerve” until I had children and they started dancing on it.

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Grocery Blues

At the grocery story, plenty of bread and milk, but limited avocado and lime selection, no cilantro, no ground beef, no bone-in chicken thighs, no pork roasts, and not a cart to be had. I think that I will never shop on a Saturday again, impending storm or no.

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Tired

I am tired. I am always tired, but today I am more tired than usual. Everything feels like a chore right now, even typing these words. So, as soon as I am done with dinner, I’m going upstairs for a date with Netflix.

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Flexitarianism

A recent article told me that a “flexitarian” diet was the wave of the future. Flexitarianism is the diet that will supposedly keep us all fed in that nebulous future in which the human race somehow manages to avoid mass destruction. Avoiding mass destruction, being an awesome thing which allows a future for my beloved children, is something I’m particularly keen on.

The flexitarian diet is mostly a vegetarian diet, but it doesn’t rule out meat or dairy. I’m cool with that. It’s what I’m already doing anyway. I’m perfectly happy getting most of my protein from nuts, beans, and sometimes eggs. But yeah, I like a burger or a steak from time to time.

So let’s do this. Flexitarianism! It’s the thing!

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The Power of the Librarian

Last week I took Livia to her crafting class in the library building. While she was at her class, Marshall and I went into the library to return some books. Most of the books went straight into the return box, but I kept one out, because it was damaged. A previous borrower had scribbled all over the last two pages and the very last page had come loose. I handed it to the people at the front desk and pointed out the damage. They thanked me for showing it to them.

Marshall and I then went into the children’s section to find some new books for him to read. A few minutes later, one of the children’s librarians tracked me down to ask me about the damaged book. I’ve pointed out damaged materials before, and no one has ever questioned me. I was surprised, but I happily told her the same thing I’d told the people at the desk.

“Well,” she said. “We look every book over when we get it back, so I don’t understand how this could have happened.” So I repeated that the book had come that way. “Well,” she said. “How could you have not noticed that there was a loose page?” So I explained that I don’t examine the books when I take them off the shelves. Again she said, “Well, . . .”

I’m not sure how many rounds of this we went through. She just kept at me, and I started to get angry. Eventually I asked her if she was accusing us of having damaged the book. She said no, but then she started in with another one of those “Well, I don’t understand how . . . ” I told her that I was starting to regret having pointed out the damage. “Well,” she said. “I’m just trying to get the story.”

At that point I lost my temper. I didn’t say anything really regrettable, but my tone must have told her exactly how I felt. I said, “I told you the story.” She said, “Well, I’m going to have to . . . .” I cut her off before she could finish. I said, “You do what you have to do.” And I walked away.

I was furious and embarrassed. Not only was Marshall there, but there were many other parents and children who must have overheard us. I also didn’t feel like I’d defended us well. As always happens in unexpected confrontations, logic abandoned me. If I’d had my wits about me, I could have pointed out that the book was not new. It had clearly been read many times, and the spine was weak. It wasn’t surprising that the last page had fallen out, because the last page is usually the first to fall out when a spine starts to fail. The last page also tends to go unseen if you thumb through a book from front to back, so the scribbles could have been there for a very long time. I also ought to have pointed out that it was damned arrogant of her to assume that she and her department were so amazingly aware of the condition of every book in their possession that she was justified in accusing us, in public, in such a way. Grrrr. I did think to point out that I had been present when Livia reached the last page of the book (which is how I knew it was damaged, and how I knew she hadn’t done the damage). Unfortunately, it sounded lame when I said it, as if I were trying to cover up for her.

All of this was made even more galling later, because after I picked up Livia from her class, she wanted to go into the children’s section to do some research. And she wanted the librarian’s help. What was I supposed to do? Say no? Of course not. So, as she talked to the librarian, I had to stand there, knowing what the librarian had so obnoxiously implied, not even an hour previously.

Generally speaking, librarians are wonderful people, and in the past, the library has always felt like a safe space. But I have to say, when I took Livia to her class again this week, I almost didn’t want to go into the children’s section. I did go in, because Livia wanted to get more books after class, but I breathed a big sigh of relief when a different librarian was working. That one librarian has tarnished my enjoyment of the library, at least for now.

I guess it just goes to show the power of the librarian. A good one is worth his or her weight in gold. A bad one, we hope, will move on to another profession soon.

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