6/14/2024

  • Today was Marshall’s last day of the 2023-2024 school year! So of course he missed the bus this morning….
  • Monday is an optional school day for Livia, but I think she’s going to go for the Flag Day activities. I don’t remember having Flag Day when I was a kid. Was that a thing?
  • Yesterday was my annual Boob Squishing. The Boob Squishers left me sitting in the changing room for a very long time, long enough for two of the voices in my head to start squabbling. Voice 1 was like, “It’s been too long. Clearly something is wrong. We must have misunderstood what we were supposed to do after getting changed. They’re waiting for us. We must go find them!” Voice 2 was like, “Relax. They know where we are. When they want us, they’ll come get us.” Voice 2 won, but narrowly. And she was right, of course.
  • At work, management is obsessing over things like “time” and “money.” And I get where they’re coming from. I’m a big fan of conserving both of those things. That’s why I’ve been telling them for years some of the ways in which they might go about that. Yet they decided to do nothing until things got bad. Now they’re finally instituting some of the changes for which I and certain coworkers have been begging for years. And they’re also adding some new and totally unsatisfactory changes of their own! I don’t know why I didn’t see that coming. It was the only possible outcome, right? That’s how businesses function.

Editor’s note: previously this post contained the phrase “Book Squishing,” which made no sense. All I can say is that I’m really looking forward to catching up on my sleep this summer.

Posted in Crazy Me, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Reading Report: Sleuthing With Nancy Drew

I read a few Nancy Drew books earlier this year. One was The Mystery of the Brass-Bound Trunk (#17). I bought it at an antique store in Vermont for $3. It’s not a perfect copy. The cover’s a little stained, and there are marks on the inside covers from past owners, one of whom was a girl named Faye. Faye liked to practice writing her name in cursive, and she owned a red marker with which she added a dash of color to the world. I don’t mind those kinds of marks in books–they simply speak of the book’s history–and I hope Faye has done (or did) well in life.

The basic plot: Nancy is getting ready for a cruise to Buenos Aires with a school group, when suddenly a wealthy but unpleasant woman shows up at Nancy’s house demanding that Nancy withdraw from the tour. The woman claims that she doesn’t want the notorious sleuth associating with her well-bred daughter, and she has the clout to make trouble for the schoolmistress if Nancy goes on the trip. So Nancy makes a compromise. She agrees not to travel with the group, but she and her friends George and Bess still go to Buenos Aires, and they voyage on the same ship. Someone else on the ship has a brass-bound trunk marked with the initials N.D., just like Nancy’s, and this leads to some confusion. Later, in Buenos Aires, Nancy’s trunk gets stolen, and she sets to work tracking it down. The nogoodniks who nicked her stuff had better watch out!

It wasn’t a very good story (I only give it a B grade), but I love reading Nancy Drew mysteries. They’re exciting, and they hearken to simpler times. But, when reading them as an adult, you can’t help but see them through the lens of modern times. Nancy throws herself into harm’s way, and she brazenly makes demands of authority figures that, by anyone else, would be laughed off or criticized, but she gets away with it all, thanks to her good looks, money, and connections. It would be cringe-worthy were it not part of the charm. Nancy can do anything, have anything, go anywhere. She’s smart, happy, successful, and surrounded by supportive people who do everything she asks. Who wouldn’t want to be Nancy Drew?

Nancy Drew books don’t have print dates on them, so it’s hard to tell exactly how old they are. This book has the original copyright date (1940), so I know it’s not one of the later rewrites, and it has that delicious old-book smell. It has the matte yellow cover that means it was printed between 1962 and 1986. Given its general appearance and copyright date, I’d say it’s from the 1960s.

I wondered if it were possible to approximate the print date more closely. Since Wikipedia lists the publication date for each book of the series, I theorized that you could guesstimate the age of a Nancy Drew book using the list of “Books by Carolyn Keene” at the beginning of the book. That seemed reasonable, until I realized that yellow-covered printings have BBCK lists on their back covers, and those lists don’t match the ones inside the books. They have a few more titles on them, suggesting that the inner lists lagged by a few years. So I guess the cover lists are better to use. Anyway, using that method, my copy of The Mystery of the Brass-Bound Trunk can be pegged to 1967 or thereabout.

P.S. When I set out to write this post, I was only going to talk about the story, but I got sucked into the “mystery” of the publication date. That’s what comes from reading Nancy Drew books. They’re like a gateway drug for sleuthing. Next thing you know, you’re looking looking for mysteries and digging up clues all over the place!

Posted in Reading | Leave a comment

New Default

I am a quiet and non-confrontational person. Consequently I try to avoid talking about political issues, particularly among people with whom I’m likely to disagree. But sometimes I end up in those kinds of conversations despite my best efforts. When that happens, I try to state my opinions in a way that is polite and that uses reasoned arguments to persuade. However, the next time anyone says something stupid to me about climate change (e.g., “I don’t believe in climate change” or “The climate may be changing, but not because of humans”) my default response is going to be “Are you a fucking moron?”

Posted in Crazy Me | 2 Comments

Reading Report: June 2024

My reading pace has been slow, but I finished four books recently. Two of them (Tom’s Midnight Garden and A Bear Called Paddington) are on the BBC’s Top 100 Children’s Books list, bringing my total for that list to 52/100.

Tom’s Midnight Garden by Philippa Pearce, A-: Tom is sent to his aunt and uncle’s place because his brother has measles. There’s nowhere for him to play there, and he thinks he’ll be stuck inside the entire time, miserably bored. But then, late at night, the old grandfather clock in the lobby of the apartment building strikes the impossible hour of thirteen while Tom is awake and unable to sleep. He creeps downstairs, where he discovers that the paved area behind the building has been transformed into a large, beautiful garden, which he then explores each night during his stay. I struggled to get into this book. Maybe it was the character of Tom, who was annoying at times, or maybe it was the garden, which didn’t seem particularly exciting (Tom’s means of access to the garden is magical, but the garden itself is not). It got better as it went along, though, and I enjoyed the ending, however predictable. There are many books that are like this: difficult to get into but sad to leave at the end. The older I get, the less willing I am to stick with a book that I’m not enjoying. But one benefit of reading classics is that most of them are classics for good reason, so you know that your patience is likely to be rewarded.

A Bear Called Paddington by Michael Bond, A+: Mr. and Mrs. Brown are at the train station to pick up their daughter. While there, they find a polite little bear who is alone and has nowhere to go, so they take him home with them and make him part of their family. Paddington, whom they named after the train station, is always getting into trouble, but he’s so sweet and polite that they love him anyway. I had access to the Paddington series as a child and probably read at least some of them, but I didn’t remember any details beyond Paddington’s fondness for marmalade. I’m so glad I read this book now. It’s such a charmer! Recommended.

Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands (Book 2 of the Emily Wilde Series) by Heather Fawcett, A: Emily Wilde is a professor of “dryadology” (the study of fairies and such). In this second book of the series, she travels to an alpine region looking for a “nexus,” a fairy door that goes to multiple places, something which other scholars think is a myth. If anyone can find the nexus, she can, and she has more than scholarship driving her to find it, because the life of her suitor and fellow scholar, Wendell Bambleby, is in danger. A fun mix of fantasy and romance, this book is every bit as enjoyable as the book that preceded it. To give you a hint of the book’s character, here’s how it begins:

The foot would not fit in my briefcase, so I wrapped it in cloth and wrestled it into an old knapsack I sometimes carry with me on expeditions. Surprisingly–or perhaps unsurprisingly, as it is a faerie foot–it is neither dirty nor foul-smelling. It is, of course, long mummified and would probably be mistaken for a goat’s foot by a casual observer, perhaps an unlikely offering excavated from the tomb of some ancient pharaoh. . . .

I gazed at my now-bulging knapsack, feeling entirely ridiculous. Trust me when I say that I would rather not cart a foot around campus with me. But faerie remains, mummified or not, have been known to slip away as the fancy takes them, and I can only assume that feet are particularly inclined to such wanderlust…

Constellation Route by Matthew Olzmann: The poems in this collection are framed as letters, with the post office as a uniting theme. They are intellectual, questioning, not always easily absorbed, but good. I think I would enjoy them more if I could have additional time with them, but the book is borrowed, and I must return it. Here are links to some of the poems that I liked and that are currently available online:

Posted in Reading | 1 Comment

Can’t Argue With That

Here is a discussion that I had with Marshall a few weeks ago.

Marshall: I don’t want to go to school.

Me: I know, but you’ve got less than a month to go. The school year’s almost over. You’ve got a whole summer to look forward to!

Marshall: If you were being stabbed, would it help if someone said, “It’s almost over”?

Posted in Marshall Says | Tagged | 1 Comment

Dangerous Day

One morning last week, Livia thought she was late for the bus, so she ran toward the bus stop. She slipped and fell, ripping open her hand and her knee on the driveway. Poor thing. My husband patched her up, and after she’d had a little time to recover, I drove her to school.

On my way back home, I saw wild roses growing along the side of the road, and I thought it must be lovely at the library’s walking trail. So I went there, and it was lovely, as expected, so cool in the shade, all the woods smelling of roses. But then, because I had mysteriously not returned home, my husband texted me. I answered him, texting as I was walking and, not paying enough attention to the path before me, twisted my ankle and fell. My ankle hurt, so I cut my walk short.

Later, while I was with Livia at her singing lesson, my husband texted me again: he had hurt his head while working, gone to the walk-in clinic, and gotten the wound stapled shut. OMG.

When we got home, the three of us gathered in the foyer, commiserating with each other on our various mishaps. Marshall poked his head out of his room to say something. “Stay in your room where it’s safe, Marshall!” we shouted to him. He returned to his room. Wisely, I think, because it was a very dangerous day!

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Gotta Go With What You’ve Got

  • The silent blog might have made it seem as if I’d dropped off the face of the earth, but I am still here, still alive, barely. Lack of sleep is really messing me up. It’s not just that I’m forced to keep lark hours, which are brutal, but that I’m also having trouble falling and staying asleep. I’m lucky if I get even five hours, and five hours don’t cut it.
  • I wrote, checked, and approved a work document recently, then happened to look at it again and saw that I’d written “back of tricks” rather than “bag of tricks.” I’ve been making that kind of mistake more and more often, and it’s getting harder to spot afterward, which is not a good thing for an editor. It’s also a symptom of dementia, which is not a good thing, full stop. I can only hope that in this case it’s a symptom, rather, of sleep deprivation.
  • Fatigue makes me prone to crying, and there have been a few times recently when my lack of music composition skill has nearly brought me to tears. One night, I was browsing YouTube videos about music theory and happened upon the channel of a young, Juilliard-trained pianist/composer. She had written and performed variations on the song “Autumn Leaves” in the style of twenty different composers, and I watched the videos in awe. She’s brilliant, and her playing is beautiful and effortless. I never have and never will be able to play like that. And I doubt I’ll ever compose like that either. It made me feel slow, and stupid, and as if all the time I’d ever spent on music had been a complete waste.
  • Then there was my music lesson earlier this week. I had slaved over a piece for two weeks, made little progress, and was embarrassed to have so little to show for my time. My teacher didn’t rip the piece apart or anything, but his advice on how I might improve it was so commonsense (musically speaking) that I was pained not to have seen it myself. His ability to manipulate the music on-the-fly just rubbed salt in the wound. And I knew that later, when I sat down to apply what he’d taught me, I’d struggle to implement his suggestions and probably fail even though I’d understood clearly what he was saying at the time. I felt like crying, and I nearly did.
  • I really don’t know what’s holding me together right now. I think it might be hot beverages. They are a little less comforting now that the weather itself is hot (in $%#@ing May!), but you gotta go with what you got, even when it ain’t much.
  • And that, I guess, is the moral of the day: gotta go with what you got. Because you can’t go with what you don’t got. And you gotta go, or else you’re dead.
Posted in Crazy Me | 1 Comment

The State of My Health

  • My new retinoschisis medication makes it harder for me to stay hydrated, and it seems to have worsened my tinnitus. Otherwise I’ve been doing OK with it. My eyes at least feel stronger. That is, I’ve had fewer bleary-eyed days since the medication switch. At my eye doctor’s appointment this week, photographs of my retinas revealed no improvement, but also no worsening. I’ll take that as a win.
  • I went in for routine bloodwork recently. The lab took five (!) vials of blood. The test results were mostly good, but my vitamin D levels are lower than recommended, and there was another minor anomaly that I should probably talk to my doctor about that. However, first I have to go get more blood drawn, because the lab apparently screwed up and didn’t run one of the panels. And of course it will require 12 hour fasting. Ugh.
  • I got another bill from the hospital this week. It said that I’d better pay up or the hospital will send the bill to collections. Geez, would they just get on with it already! I told them I wasn’t going to pay. They’re just wasting paper every time they send me a bill. Meanwhile, sort of ironically, the effects of the cortisone shot have now worn off. I’m back to limping. And to think it’s because I sprained my knee playing basketball in gym class back when I was in middle school. Funny how such a small thing can stay with you all your life and turn into a big problem over time.
Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

3/27/2024

  • Yesterday was my music lesson, so I had to drive myself there. While I was on my way home, a rock flew into my windshield. I saw it coming and was powerless to stop it. It hit with such a loud crack, I said, “Son of a #@$%#!” I hadn’t been driving fast or through debris or behind a truck, so I can’t even imagine where the rock came from or how it could hit so hard. It chipped and cracked the glass. I’m not happy that my nice new car now has this scar, but I think my insurance includes full glass coverage, and I’m hoping I can get it fixed without a big fuss.
  • Middle-school report cards came out a couple of days ago. My husband and I were surprised to see that Livia had gotten a 2+ in one of her classes. I mentioned the grade to her, and she was also surprised. The next time she was in school, she asked her teacher, “How can I do better than a 2+ next time?” And her teacher said, “2+? That’s not right. I gave you a 4+!” So her teacher fixed the grade, and everyone is happy now. Well, except that the mistake had come from Livia’s grade being accidentally swapped with another student’s, so somewhere out there is a poor kid who went from a 4+ to a 2+ ๐Ÿ™
Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Dreaming of Summer

The last few weeks have been brutal. I can’t seem to get enough sleep. I’ve had no energy for anything but TV, and I’ve been falling asleep while watching it.

As if I didn’t already have enough trouble waking in the mornings, my alarm clock broke a couple of weeks back. Instead of the radio turning on at the appointed time, the clock made a pathetic “zzzt” sound and then returned to silence. Poor thing was all worn out, just like me.

So I stopped setting the alarm on that clock and started using my phone’s alarm to wake me. Then, one night the clock’s alarm mysteriously turned on, and it would not allow itself to be turned off. If this was a sign from the Universe that I needed to WAKE UP, all I can say to that is I KNOW.

The kids complain about having to get up so early, too. They cite scientific studies showing that teens naturally stay up late and need more sleep. They rail about how stupid the school schedule is. All I can say to that is I KNOW. And all I can do is hope that they manage to get through their remaining school years better than I got through mine.

We could all use a break from the early hours, that’s for sure, and one will be coming up fairly soon. The kids are about 2/3 of the way through the school year now. We’ve only got to get through three more months of this early-morning torture. Then will come the leisurely days of summer. A respite. I am so looking forward to that.

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment