Well here I've spent all week getting progressively more excited about my San Francisco trip (which begins tomorrow) and smiling happy all over the place, until today - boom, from manic to depressive in zero easy steps. Don't ask me, I don't know, but there I was at work and suddenly found myself insanely annoyed at everything. Then I tried to cheer myself up with thoughts of the impending trip, but it only made things worse. It became just a hate-o-rama: I was sure everything would go wrong, I wouldn't get to do anything fun for some reason or another, it would all suck and like I deserve to have a terrific wonderful trip, I mean nobody likes me anyway, gah! (Seriously, that's like an abbreviated transcript right there.)

I think it must be my brain's way of tempering high expectations. Some kind of Let's not get overly excited, here mechanism, if you will. Because now, hours later, I'm pretty sure SOME people don't dislike me, and that I'll manage to do at least ONE fun thing on the trip, and I probably won't hate EVERY minute of it... so fine, it may not suck entirely, but it also might not be worth the time and effort. And thus is balance restored, now that the inner sourpuss has woken up and had her say and subsided into dire mutterings.

So things were starting to tentatively look up again, until I got home and got bad/sad news. Which I can't really talk about, but I CAN talk about this other thing, how three (3) family members have contacted to inform me of my mother's state of health. She had her hip replaced, see, so my brother left a message to say she'd come through the surgery just fine; my aunt called to say my mother seems to be okay but "your brother was supposed to call us and he didn't, so I'm just hoping there's nothing to worry about"; then my ex-sister-in-law texted to tell me she'd visited the patient and all is well.

Now. Considering I only had the vaguest notion she was having the surgery sometime in November-ish, this excess of communication seems a bit much. And the tone of it all really sounds like it's hiding some kind of ulterior motive. Reading between the lines, one and/or two things are going on here: 1. Various family members are trying to rope me into the role of concerned/communicative sister/daughter (that used to be me - I have drifted [happily!] in recent years), or 2. My mother is upset and complaining that I haven't called or visited her or even asked after her health and here she is in the hospital and everything.

Yes, long-time readers. Take a moment to savor that.

She'll be doing in-patient physical therapy for a couple of weeks at least. The hospital is here, in the city. Not convenient to me, but not horribly inconvenient. I suppose I could drop by. Eventually. When it's convenient for me. I guess. But for the record, there would be MUCH begrudging going on. If you didn't guess.

Well anyway. I need to pack. Opened the suitcase and put in the business suits first, only to turn around 5 minutes later and find Thunderpussy curled on top of the pile. Like many of her feline brethren, she loves an open suitcase. And I love that I have a lint-roller. Oooh, and look - the forecast is all Sunny And Low Sixties there, for all my days in town! Huzzah!

Right, so. Itinerary: finish packing, have a nightcap, try not to think too much, have a great time.

Will do.

All right all right Monday, people, I got it, it's Monday. MONDAY. Y'all gotta SBD something or other, okay? Because I don't really have anything to say, unless you want to hear about my impressions of the new V show. Which has nothing to do with any kind of reading at all.

Hey hey, here's a theme question: Christmas is coming (and has been for weeks, according to every retail outlet in the country, the bastards) and the goose is getting fat. Do you gift books to people? If so, how do you choose? Is there some book you gift to people all the time? I think my family expected me to give books at Christmas for a long time, and then they stopped expecting it when it didn't happen. I only ever get books for the kids - Maurice Sendak has made a fortune off me. But books for people who actually DO read is almost more difficult than books for non-readers. And both are difficult, so I just don't do it, traditionally. And vanishingly few people get really excited when they pull off the gift-wrap and find a book. If there's some fool-proof way of gifting books to one and all, please share this wonder with us.

(Of course this all reminds me of when my friend Heather bought me Tuesdays With Morrie and it was the moment I realized we'd be great friends for a long time. I was polite - she asked if I'd read it - I said I hadn't - she looked at my smiling face as I read her little note inside the front cover - and she said "Oh fuck I KNEW I shouldn't pick out a book for you, it's terrible, right? This is like the worst book ever, I bet, and the whole world but me knows it. You're never gonna read it, right? You probably make fun of this book all the time with your books friends. GOD. Fucking Oprah." We still laugh about it. The best of intentions from a person clearly clueless, bless her heart. I mean, really - Tuesdays with Morrie. For me! Fuckin-A, man. That shit's hilarious.)

Anyhoozenhauer, as I was saying: Monday. SBD. Get crackin.

Somehow I feel very busy lately and find myself sans blogging time. But really I do have the time - I just tend to blog when I'm bored, and recently I am not all that bored. So here are varius things going on:

The Dawn visit was a wild success, meaning that I, for one, had a fab time. We discovered a specialty cheese shop downtown (very exciting since my neihborhood cheesemonger went out of business), and went to a great play (it's closing today, so I can't say "Go see it!") and had many drinks at the Palmer House Hilton. If I haven't mentioned, that's a fun place to go for a drink downtown because it's all fancy-dancy, but you can wear jeans and be a slob while the waitstaff is just the soul of welcoming kindness - terrific professionals, the lot of em. And get this - they have a pumpkin pie martini, and yes it's fookin AWESOME. I will be experimenting at home, trying to replicate this wonder. And we also got little nibblies, and based on that taste, I am more than willing to put my hungry belly into the hands of the obviously top-notch chef, at any available time. Even the potato chips were downright genius, so that gives you an idea.

And then in the morning we ate at the beloved Wishbone (order the red eggs!) and shopped. I bought an adorable beaded keychain and an even more adorable Xmas ornament (I'll take pics once I decorate), and a very soffffft green sweatshirt, and a new lipstick and some very warm socks and a small bg of Garrett's. Okay, two small bags - one Chicago mix and one cashew-caramel - and there's also the Very Exciting Cheese Purchases. Anyway, it was great and we walked all over and now my legs are tired because my boots, though tres comfortable, are also tres heavy.

Tom just called from his new Droid phone. We've been discussing how cool it looks and how I'm almost tempted to get one, even me! And then he just dials me up this morning and says "I'm talking to you from my new phone!" Me: "Droid?" Him: "Yes!" Us: "YAY!" He reports that it is thus far awesome, and will provide me with further updates as they happen. Then we proceeded to talk for hours, because that's what we do when Tom takes a road trip. I love it, and him, so yay.

Snookie called and left a message. Quelle shock - I so rarely hear from her anymore. But so I need to call her back, and also remember to give Heather a ring, too. Heather has set the date for the wedding and I have marked it on my calendar (next year) and will now make fun of her for choosing a Sunday in Indiana for her reception. Because of the liquor laws there, see. I presume there's some way to get around it for weddings, but still I'll recommend she make it a BYOB wedding, because I consider that an awesome concept.

I bought a bunch of veggies that I just never usually buy, this morning. Turnips and parsnips and big fat carrots and an acorn squash. along with some other root vegetables, I will chop and roast these, and see what I get. I always whine about the loss of summer produce, but here are these vegetables that I largely ignore - so I've decided to familiarize myself with em. I'll let you know if there are any stand-outs. I also bought a handful of guavas, with absolutely no clue as to how to eat them, or even judge if they're ripe. Here's hoping it's obvious.

• It's gorgeous weather, gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous.
• I'm pretty sure I don't have any Thanksgiving plans, which is fine by me.
• Just ordered the new John Irving book, because I will always buy and read his books.
• Need to book a tour in San Francisco - and maybe I need a reservation for that one vegan restaurant? Really have to think this through instead of half-assing it.
• Gah, I need to go put air in my car tire. It's flat, in that slow leak way. So annoying.
• I need to do laundry, but I just want to nap a lil bit in the lovely sun and slight breeze. But I have to do laundry today.
• Flowers!
• As bullet points!
• etc.

Okay, off I go to do some damn errand or another. I guess - air in the tire, then laundry, then call Snooks. No napping allowed, I guess. Waah.

I am really, really good at imagining the cat side of Thunderpussy/Beth conversations. I'm the world's foremost expert in the field. I could win an award. Most Convincing Imaginary In-Depth Discussion. Or something.

Incidentally I am not at all fond of green teas, as a general rule, but I love Mighty Leaf's Organic Detox Tea. I have Kate to thank for this discovery. (Thanks, Kate!) It is perfect for when your tummy's not quite right or you have a headache or a scratchy throat or what have you. I dunno, it's a little minty, a little citrusy, a little florally. Beats me why it appeals when none of its herbal brethren make the cut, but there you go.

I picked up a box of it yesterday, actually, while also picking up some coffee, and I take this opportunity to hereby swear once again that Metropolis Spice Island blend is the best coffee ever. Ever ever ever. (You can buy some here, if you don't believe me.) Also I'll remind you that the best at-home quickie pumpkin spice concoction is a cup of strong coffee and a mixture of Coffeemate Pumpkin Spice creamer and milk - like 1 tbsp creamer to 3 tbsp milk, basically.

Oh, pumpkin season. You're my favorite season of them all. Um, and tomato season, when the tomatoes come in at last. Oh oh oh also mid-summer when the berries start tasting awesome. Okay, so I have a top five list of seasons, maybe. Like that's so weird or something.

Alert alert alert I am not hungry at all but have a sudden craving for tacos. It's very odd.

Hmm speaking of which, I dunno that I have anything to take for lunch tomorrow. Curses. guess I have to go rifle through the kitchen and see what I find. Though really, that sounds awfully vigorous.

Belated and barely be-coffee'd SBD for youse, because I had a thing after work then when I sat down to blog, the phone rang and led to a looooooong chat and then I was bloody well tired.

So!

ssheers says there's some creepy series we should look into and PS new Barbara Kingsolver. Thanks ssheers!

Kate is all about the Hiaasen (reminding me I need to read another Hiaasen).

And jmc has a horrifying (really - HORRIFYING) tale of the most common typos that seriously kinda makes me want to vomit.

Plus Sheena mentions some book that I have to read that I don't think I ever heard of, but I just used my last credit at the swap to order it. It better not suck, Sheena.

Then Sam Jones said nice things about my blog. Thanks, Sam Jones. Paste away.

Okay so anyway here's my half-ass SBD about why I don't want an e-reader:

Because I like actually handing a book to someone, the physical act of it. It's such a friendly thing, a little moment that's got this slight ping! of portent, a casual gift-giving that requires no reciprocation. Telling someone they can go download it? Has none of those lovely things.

Because I love that books can be lent or borrowed so easily and casually. I don't have to give anyone some special access to my account and they aren't required to have a certain kind of software or hardware. Encoded data is made to only go so far, but a tattered old paperback can make it into the hands of a thousand readers with little or no effort from me. Which is a gorgeous thing.

Because I just seriously cannot see myself going more than a few months without ruining a $300 device by dropping it in the tub or spilling tea on it, or drooling on it when I nod off in the middle of a boring chapter. It's annoying when it happens to an $8 paperback, but not infuriating. And I'm not giving up the pleasure of taking books everywhere because I have to guard the precious bit of technology.

Because tell me: when I go to a play and Peter Beagle is sitting right there with a pen and a welcoming smile on his face, how the fuck do I ask him to sign my e-reader copy of The Last Unicorn? And don't tell me to have him sign a program or a postcard or book-flat or whatever instead. Aside from the depressing thought of a book collection being nothing more than a silver square of technology and a stack of signed bookmarks (!!!), there is something really delightful about opening a book and seeing the author's signature right there on the title page, as a part of the book.

Because there's a lot to be said for the built-in shopping brakes. I mean, back in my bookstore employee discount days, the only thing that would keep me from impulse buying beyond my means was that my arms were tired, full of books. And even now, ordering books on the net, I have to worry about shelf space - and that stops me. If I could impulse download, I would go bankrupt. I need checks and balances, people.

Because I'm guessing there are technical issues that would horrify me. Like what if I have this book I love on there and then for some reason it gets eaten or disappears or just won't work one day? And I bought it 9 years ago, so it's out of print and no copies to re-download. Or I lose it all in some upgrade, or whatever version I have becomes obsolete in 10 years. There's not that level of uncertainty with a printed book.

Because there's something really terrific in the low-tech act of dog-earing a page where a favorite bit appears, or underlining a favorite sentence, or knowing at a glance which books are loved best by observing the worn and tattered covers. And the glorious smell of dusty book leather and pulp paper, and the sound of the pages when you riffle them. It's nice having an experience that's not just another gadget in my purse.

However, if I were in college? I'd want all my damn textbooks to be e-versions. Searchable and notate-able and rent it for $10 (less for the Penguin Classics in lit class!) for just the semester and the end.

So that's what I think about that, even though I get how nice it might be to not have 200 pounds of books to move every time I change domiciles.

Okay and now I need more coffee. Happy Tuesday!

Good morning! Here I sit, sipping at my pumpkin-spiced coffee as I sit on my well-rested ass, because that turn-the-clocks-back thing? Is the most brilliant invention, ever. We should do it twice a year, at least. It's just that awesome. I've had a shower and washed many dishes and made my lunch and STILL have time to iron a pair of pants and launch SBD. Seriously - awesome, people.

So anyways, Monday means

SBD!

Woohoo!

Tell us something about the world of reading and/or writing and/or publishing and /or literary whatnots, please. I shall do my poor best to join in, but I realized I have a rather lengthy errand to run tonight after work, so I can't guarantee anything. But I will try. You should too.

Toodles!

Yet another day-killing sinus headache. And I took sudafed and everything! And still it throbs and throbs. It's unjust, is what it is. Unjust, I tell you.

My problem, I've realized - I mean in life, not in sinus issues - my problem is that I just don't seem to be all that excited about much of anything anymore. That's not really the word, excited. Or passionate or enthusiastic or interested, though it all feeds into those things. It's just that I'm not committed to much of anything, and I don't want to be. I could be. It's a mental trick, deciding to really throw yourself into something. And I could do it, but I don't. I think my job - a few jobs back, the one I mostly loved except for the bad management and the next-to-nothing pay? That one. That whole episode did something to me that I thought would get fixed in time, in the right situation. But it won't get fixed. At least not by itself.

I worked really, really hard at that job. And I loved it. Even when I hated it, I loved it. It sucked my life and energy away, and the problem was that it didn't give much of anything back to me. Then following right up on that, I threw myself into writing a book - another thing I loved, even when I hated it. And the book was like the job turned out, in the end. You throw yourself into it, you do the best job you can - a job that everyone tells you is really, truly, better work than they ever expected. You outdo yourself. You amaze yourself, that you could do so much and so well. The most boring and minute detail, you could make interesting to yourself. No task too small, etc etc.

And you don't get shit for it. I mean, I know it's supposed to be its own reward and everything. And it is, in a ton of ways. But I worked and worked and waited for my reward. A raise, a promotion, a publisher showing a lick of interest. And it never came. It comes for other people. People you know are not nearly as talented, as smart, as good at what they do. You learn the race isn't always to the swift. Good work isn't always rewarded. No one much gives a shit about your potential. It's growing up, is all, when you really finally learn that to the point of certainty. Just because I cared about a thing so much that it invaded my dreams and ate up nearly every brain cell I had, that didn't mean it'd give me any tangible results. Nothing like getting the stars casually wiped right out of your eyes.

So I just turned it off, that drive. Fuck it, I'll just do a decent job, not kill myself. Just give me my paycheck and call it a day. I don't need more than that, I figured. And now I miss the intangibles, that feeling of doing something, anything, that I really, truly care about. The satisfaction of doing it so well that everyone marvels and I'm delighted. I miss it, but I turned it off and can't seem to turn it back on again. I guess I'm just scared. Or tired. And entirely certain that it will always lead to disappointment, so why put bother putting myself in a position I know will lead to all kinds of dashed hopes.

Mostly it's that I'm chickenshit. I know that.

I don't know why I'm blathering about it. It pertains to my situation at work just now, I guess - I could do the job so much better if I could make myself care. And Tom asked me today, so what's new? What are you interested in? An odd question, but he's known me long enough that he knows it's rare for me not to have some current obsession, something I could drone on for hours about. But I don't, really. I just don't care that much about anything. And I wondered to myself why and here's the answer, comes blurting out when I sit down to blog. As usual.

A few things that I still enjoy quite fully. Like brainstorms with Chas and Laura, like daily chitchat with Paul, like planning my trip to San Francisco. So it's not like I'm all dead inside or anything. I'm just gunshy or something. Excessively leery.

Ah fuck it. Thank god I have scotch in the house.

Public Service Announcement: Laura is the sweetest most thoughtfullest friend ever.

That is all.

Also, Pumpkin Spice Coffeemate is at the stores now.

And ps, I'm already deeply annoyed by the World Series in general, but when it means no Glee, I'm downright hateful about it. So there.

Here are some random items:

1. I find it alarming that my apartment periodically smells like pot roast. It's the same smell that permeated my childhood home every Sunday - my mother would put in the meat, potatoes, and carrots, we'd go off to 11:00 mass, come home and the house smelled of meat. We'd have to drool for another hour til it was actually done, though. So what I'm saying is: I know this smell. I smell it right now AT MIDNIGHT ON A WEDNESDAY, just as I've smelled it at 9am on a Saturday and 4pm on a Monday. There is no pattern. There is only the smell. I'm beginning to think one of my near-neighbors is a serial killer who cooks and eats his victims and one day the press will be interviewing me and I'll be like "He seemed pretty normal, quiet... oh and he loved pot roast. Like he had a crock pot going all the-- OMG!"

2. Several days ago, I deactivated my Facebook account. All it ever did was annoy the living fuck outta me. It feels great to be rid of it, to be honest. Like I've been freed from some tyrannical slavemaster of sorts. If you haven't joined and feel at all tempted, heed my warning: don't do it.

3. Did I mention my love of Ocean Spray Cranberry-Orange Instant Oatmeal? If not, consider it mentioned. It's my new favorite thing. Genius.

4. I remembered this story and maybe I told it before, but here, since it's Halloweeny and makes me laugh: Sinjun had a theme costume party one Halloween, where we were all to dress as literary characters of some sort. I decided to be Hester Prynne, of Scarlet Letter fame. I wore a long black skirt, white blouse, little black cardigany sweater, a white bonnet (that I made with my own two craftsy handses) and a big red A pinned on my chest. Wore the costume to work (before the party) where one of the dumbest girls I've ever known - really, she was dumber than a box of hair, this girl, which is what made the comment that much more brilliant - asked me, "What are you, like an Amish cheerleader or something?" Best costume comment ever. EVER.

5. I did continue the search for the Loretta Chase book, but no dice. (In addition to the obvious bookshelves, I also had to check the bedroom closet shelf, the bag of books I cleared out of the car trunk, and inside the sofa storage area. I gots books coming out of my ears, people.) Instead, next week I will SBD about why I'm not ever likely to switch to an e-reader. Because I keep seeing Kindles more and more on the train, and I'm sick of alla these books coming outta my ears, so I have considered the notion. And rejected it. Tune in to see why!

6. Holy christ, despite having run to the grocery store directly after work today, I have precisely nothing to take with me for lunch tomorrow. Seriously. WTF? I spent $60, too, which is bloody insane and more the result of whack-ass prices than my own shopping excesses. I mean, there were only 3 bags of groceries, and one bag was entirely cat food ($8.99). Granted, I spent $7 on oatmeal, but that's about it in terms of "large" purchases. Fucking A, man. Gads, I didn't even get any junk food. Gyah!

7. There's no good reason for my being awake this late. I just am. I am seriously, seriously going to regret it in a few hours, when I have to wake up.

So I'm-a go to bed now. Night.