I’ve been very excited to see readers from Russia, Ireland, and Canada in the past few weeks. Please keep sharing!
Spring has finally triumphed over this long, chilly winter. I know this because my formerly gray car is now yellow. Although I love the change of seasons, I dread trying to find clothes to wear in my meager wardrobe. At the end of every season, I put my worn-out warm or cool clothes away and take comfort in the belief that by the time I need them again, I will be so much thinner and richer that I will go out and buy a whole new wardrobe. I don’t know why I keep on believing this, but I always do. And here I am, still broke, but 25 pounds lighter, not really ready to invest in a bunch of new clothes and not able to afford it if I were. I have found a few things that I couldn’t fit into last year, so that’s good. Someone at work told me that Oprah has an entire room devoted to each size that she flits through. I wonder how many rooms she uses for closets?
My Baby Is Burdened with Guilt
I get about a thousand reviews a month sent to me at work to consider for the tender little ones of our county. For those of you who are interested in the youngest generation, here are some of the latest titles in board books for your toddlers: Les Misérables and War and Peace. Oh, yes. After announcing the titles to anyone within earshot of my computer at the library, I promptly deleted them from the vendor’s order cart. There is also an entire board book series based on classic titles. I cannot begin to express my disdain for parents who are so breathlessly terrified that little Abercrombie may not get into Yale that they begin World Literature classes while he is still in diapers. Cultural literacy is inculcated at this age by Mother Goose and Little Red Riding Hood. There’s enough there to keep all of you sleep-deprived for months. You can teach Abercrombie grace and redemption à la Jean Valjean by administering proper punishment and forgiveness the next time he thwacks his sister Honoria over the head with his toy train.
The Netflixian Report
Lately, David and I have jumped into White Collar, a series that had been recommended to me by two friends, but since I’m pretty stubborn, I’m just getting around to it. We love it. I think it’s currently in its fourth season, so lots more to look forward to. If you’ve seen Leo DiCaprio in Catch Me If You Can, you get the gist. Super-smart criminal ends up working for the FBI because they can’t figure out how to stop him otherwise. Interesting cases, great ensemble casting, and big, blue eyes.
The Treadmill Went Flat
So, I fought my way down 25 pounds and got stuck. I think the reason is that our treadmill has lost its “incline” feature. I used to have a good time setting goals for myself and really working up those hills. Walking on the flat surface is just not as fun nor as effective. David took the cover off the motor part of the treadmill, so now I can see everything moving when I walk, which is kind of scary. No, we are not accepting amusing theories as to why our treadmill may not be able to lift up anymore.
The Greatest of These Is Love
David had taken on a second job for a while so that we could have a regular paycheck on his side and get some debts paid off. He would get up at 6:00 with me, as usual, and leave just after I did to get to his office. If he came straight home, he would get home just after I did in the evening, but he usually went out to show houses and got home between 7:00 and 8:00. In either case, he went right to his laptop and cell phone and worked until 10:00 or 11:00 at night, then got up to do it again the next day. Weekends, too. I missed him so much. Even when he was here, we couldn’t even talk or watch a TV show together. Eventually, it didn’t work out on either side, and now I have my husband back. You know what I learned? Money may always be a struggle for us, but not everyone is blessed to have someone they want to be with all the time. Life is short, and days are finite. Spend all the time you can with the people you love.
Hand the Crown to Bill
I am coming right along with my smart phone. I recently went to the Verizon store, where the woman fixed my phone by turning it off and turning it back on. Oh. Although she was my age, she kept calling me “dear” and “honey,” but I was nice to her anyway. Then she told me that I could call Google customer service for help on the app. that wasn’t working. I couldn’t believe it. I said, “But it’s a free app. Is the tech support free, too?” She assured me that it was, so when I got home, I pulled up GooglePlay, put in my contact info, and hit send. My phone rang while it was still in my hand. Eerie. This very nice guy named Jim asked for my first name and a bit about my problem. Jim then introduced me to Bill, who deals with music issues, and it was all very chummy. Bill got it all fixed up, very patiently and kindly. He didn’t even act like he wanted to call me “honey” or “dear,” and they never put me on hold. You know how some people fret that Google is taking over the world? Even though I will miss having a surname, I say: How soon can we make this happen and how can I help expedite the process?
There Was a Truck?
My husband is such a sport that he will read young adult books that I push at him, although we don’t always come away with the same experience. Recently, he read the complex and painful Aristotle & Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe (see review, below), and became most animated at the part where Ari gets a ’57 Chevy pickup truck for his birthday. A red one. David was most pleased for Ari and would be happy to see one of these land in our driveway some birthday. He also read Twilight and went to the movie with me (told you he was a sport), but he got very upset during the movie. We all did, I suppose, but while the rest of us were appalled by the cartoonish makeup and campy acting, David was outraged that they gave Bella the wrong truck. It was the wrong make, the wrong model, and the wrong year. I’m sure that the producers were betting—correctly—that not a single teenage girl in the audience would notice, but I had to ask Mr. ADHD to stop talking about it in the theater. He tried, he really did, but every time a new scene showed the pickup, David had to blurt out, as quietly as possible, “That. Is. The. Wrong. Truck!”