Still Is The Life Of Your Room When You’re Not Inside… Come Back To Bed…

MyLove is out of town for a couple of days and I can’t sleep and I can’t read and I haven’t been able to write. I stay awake and watch TV for hours because that’s the absolute least amount of effort I can make without slipping into a coma. I’m only cleaning things when I need to use them and I’m only eating what I can make with minimal effort (which is how you find yourself mixing sour cream and salsa together and dolloping it over green beans for dinner… and that has not been , by any means, the lowest gastronomic point!). I’m not sad, necessarily –  after all, he’ll be back soon and all is well – but there doesn’t seem much point to doing anything by myself. Apathetic is the word, I suppose. Bridgetjonesian might be the better word.

In the movies, after brutal break-ups, characters stereotypically retreat into their pajamas and consume gallons of ice cream and drink bottles of wine and sing along to dreadful ballads; that’s not been my experience. I am a sociable Breaker-Upper, a party- as-fast-as-you-can-or-it’ll-catch-up-with-you Breaker-Upper. It is when Michael goes away, which is mercifully seldom, that I fall apart and don’t eat or sleep or do errands or clean or cook or write. My days lose their rhythm and shape and arc. I should try to sleep, but I can’t, so I stay up to tire myself out.

This is reading as depressing, but that’s just because it’s 2am. I’m actually so happy that I’m writing because that’s one of the signs that I’m adjusting. Also I almost like this hollow feeling of Michael’s absence; it defines and refines my understanding of his presence, like a missing wedding ring you keep twirling round your finger or a lost watch you keep checking for the time.

I feel better. You all really do me so much good! Thanks for listening to my moan-moan-moan. Let’s meet here same time tomorrow.

MyLove, I have my music on shuffle and Eartha Kitt is singing to “Never touch matches, you might get burned. / Never kiss strangers; nasty old germs. / Exercise daily, jump up and down, /  ’cause if I love ya, then I need ya, If I need ya, then I want you around!” Here’s what I’m thinking. I love you!

April 2013 Book Giveaway…

Oooh, this month, it was a bonanza of good books. As always, leave a comment, so that everyone can see what’s been spoken for.

The Castle of Otranto by Horace Walpole (1764): This one I didn’t read. We bought it for book club, but didn’t start it in time. It is considered to be the first gothic novel, written by a dilletante who loved everything Gothic and surrounded himself with the architecture and furniture and art. One day he decided that, there being no Gothic literature, he would write it himself. It opens with Conrad, the sickly son of Manfred, lord of the castle, being crushed to death by a gigantic helmet the day after his wedding because of  a curse… You’re hooked, right? It’s a good opening, I admit.

To The Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf (1927): Virginia Woolf is one of the few writers whose work exhilarates me and makes me feel young, like live music coursing through and around you. It’s not so easy to read these knotty, tangled, perfect, precise descriptions of how we feel, I warn you, but why should it be? Trust me, it’s worth it. May I quote? I opened the book at random and found this: “… children never forget. For this reason, it was so important what one said, and what one did, and it was a relief when they went to bed. For now she need not think about anybody. She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of – to think; well, not even to think. To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to other.”

Ada, Or Ardor by Vladimir Nabokov (1969): I didn’t finish this one. I have, quite frankly, not the slightest clue what was happening at all. I love wordplay, I love Lolita, I was prepared to love this, but four chapters in, I was too frustrated. Read this excellent article before you decide to take it, brave soul.

Land of Desire: Merchants, Power And The Rise Of The New American Culture by William Leach (1994): An excellent history of our transformation into a country of consumers. The narrative follows department store owners, like John Wanamaker, but digresses into religion, politics, aesthetics, literature… through consumerism, it tells the story of the United States that we know and live in today. Fascinating and written so cleanly and so firmly that you never question what you’re reading, which is quite a trick. I must warn you, the previous owner did underline and pencil in comments here and there, which is a little distracting. Still, great book.

Cleopatra’s Nose: 39 Varieties Of Desire by Judith Thurman (2007): This is a collection of Thurman’s pieces from the New Yorker. Approximately a third about literature and the rest about art and haute couture, which does not ordinarily interest me. Thurman (a Brandesian!) is so urbane and intriguing; when was the last time you were fascinated by Bill Blass? And if she can make Bill Blass interesting, then what won’t she do for Yves St. Laurent and Commes des Garcons? You will feel more elegant just reading this book (and if you don’t read this one, pick up her biography of Isak Dinesen, which is a very fortuitous combination of subject and writer).

The Lost: A Search For Six Of Six Million by Daniel Mendelsohn (2006): This book is incredible, a classicist’s attempt to find out what happened to his grandfather’s brother, his wife and four daughters. It reads like a detective story, interwoven with meditations on the limits of  memory and the meaning of loss and what it means to write someone’s life and readings of the stories in the Bible so far as they relate to the Holocaust. I particularly loved, as a sister of brothers, his reading of Cain and Abel to show how we most love and most envy and most hold responsible and most hurt the people who are closest to us, with whom we have shared the most. He spins Cain and Abel’s tragedy out to better understand his relationship with his own brothers, his grandfather’s guilt for surviving and not saving his family in the Ukraine and both the atrocities and heroics committed by the Ukrainians against the people who had lived among them for centuries. I lived this book for days.

Let me know what you want. Good night, my delectable friends!

Resolution Round-Up March 2013

Goodness, so late! Which is indicative of the litany of failures to come. But that’s what I like about this set-up – I get to start over every month.

1) Ugh, epic fail. Why was March so busy and draining? Part of it is the weather, part of it is the growing dissatisfaction with and stress at work, but this month was a terrible blogging month. MyLove did translate a great deal and monopolized the computer, so let’s blame him and move on.

2) I read some excellent books, but not as many as I would have liked because they were all either big or difficult.

3) Hmmm… how to explain this one? Well, two lapses in vegetarianism. One occurred when I tasted some of Michael’s red curry and rice and accidentally got a bite of chicken. Lesson learned: I am a greedy and overly informal young woman who needs to not reach across tables, taking other people’s food; it’s one of my bad habits, probably caused by a childhood of too many brothers and too little tortilla de papa. Yes, let’s blame my brothers and move on.

The other lapse occurred at Pesach dinner. I was unwittingly foiled by a matzoh ball soup! And worst of all, I didn’t even know it! Three-quarters of the way through the soup, I wondered to myself, “Huh, what exactly is a matzoh ball, anyway? Are they made with meat products?”. And it still took me another two bites before I realized that the broth is chicken broth! I mean, honestly! I finished the soup (which was… come, come, let’s not deny it… delicious) and chalked it up as a loss.

The good news is that I was twice tempted even unto the limits of human endurance, once by a friend’s homemade spaghetti and meatball, once by chopped chicken liver, but both times I thought of you. The other lapses were honest mistakes and I can live with that, but the chicken liver! That’s just willing-spirit, weak-flesh, etc. Anyway, you saved me. Thanks!

4) Meh, we only did the Screen Sabbath twice, but I still love it every time, so this month we’re going for four.

5) No major decluttering was accomplished, but I have two projects ready for the next couple of weeks. One is to get a stamp collection appraised, so that we can decide if we should sell or donate it. The other is to shorten and dye my wedding dress… which could be hilarious, so stay tuned!

6) I made it through the whole month, batting two for two on birthdays (or something… sports metaphors are not my forte) and fumbled at the goal line or one-yard line or whatever you call the line closest to the touchdown zone. I missed my dear friend, D. And only realized it as I wrote this post. A card will go out tomorrow.

7) But! Epic win! I got to see the above-mentioned D. for a few hours while he was in transit to visit family in Jersey. Look! Proof!

Happy Belated Birthday, my delightful friend!

I also made plans with a few other friends to go to Boston in a few weeks, so another win there on the Friends Front.

8) Those blasted push-ups. Don’t ask. Or better, ask me in a month, so I have time to catch up.

Eh, what can you do? Soon it will be Spring and I will be happier and, like so many humans, I do find it easier to be good when I am happy. Have a good night, my friends!

I Got Better, I Got Strong… I Feel Better Now There’s Nothing Wrong…

For my birthday Michael bought me a 10 Class Pass at a yoga studio, as my gym only offers yoga three days a week, and I need the occasional supplement. Sunday morning I took a class which stretched me like a rack, wrung me like a towel and rolled me out like pie crust. To be clear, it felt wonderful, much harder than my usual classes, but wonderful. I’m at a good stage in that I know enough to almost understand how the harder poses are done, but am still new enough to be pleasantly, disbelievingly surprised by what I am able to do myself. I can remember not knowing anything at all, so I almost see how I’m going to learn what I don’t know yet.

For the most part, learning is dull. It is. No matter how fascinating the subject, the majority of learning is not enjoying the fascinatingness of the subject but rather being repeatedly confronted with your own inadequacy. No wonder we resist it so, hard as it is on the body and mind and pride and ego. Fortunately, in spite of or because of our bodies and minds and pride and ego, we overcome the resistance.

I have, in the past few months of yoga, learned so much about learning, about tenacity, about repetition, about challenge, so much more than I have ever understood in school. I am glorying in the tiny improvements, the extra centimeter here, the deeper twist there, and none of even the hardest positions seem impossible. Even if they are years away (which they absolutely are… at least!), I can see how those years are made up of tiny increments, of hops that become leaps and breaths which become postures, of efforts which become ease. Sooner or later, at the farther end of eventually, just as I do things which were not long ago impossible, I will eventually do more impossibles and then more and then a couple more for good measure.

I have never felt this certainty before. I have had brief moments when, suddenly, after plodding away, I broke through befuddlement to clarity. A few satisfying encounters with algebraic equations, a few successful uses of the subjunctive tense in French, a few confident and correct landings of my hands on piano keys, but this feels better, faster and clearer. I can’t decide if it’s because I am older and more patient and more appreciative or if it’s because, in learning a sport or exercise, I am feeling these realizations viscerally, in my muscles and bones, rather than mentally.

And what does this mean for the future? For our dance classes, for my neglected guitar and knitting needles, for the Polish poetry on my bedside table? What could I not learn? Am I limited at all? Sure, by time, by my own brain and body, but is that very much?

I feel good. As I sit here and type, I circle my head on my neck and occasionally arch my back to remind myself, by the soreness in my muscles, how good it feels to learn, how I’m learning to feel good.

March 2013 Charity of Choice

For reasons that I cannot explain and have not sufficiently analyzed, I am inordinately interested in prisoner’s rights. I don’t know where this interest comes from; all I know is that I cannot pass by an article on prison conditions or sentencing or wrongful convictions. There are so many unbearable injustices and so many worthy causes and, on a purely intellectual level, I’m sure that they are all interesting, but this is the one I gravitate towards. Part of it is that I despise wastefulness and the system, as it is currently run, asides from the obvious and completely unnecessary injustices and cruelties, seems to me to be extraordinarily wasteful, of money and, more importantly, of human capital. We will talk about this more in the future, as I’m taking concrete steps to learn more about the field, but for the time being, I sent some money to the Innocence Project, whose work I admire.

Thanks for not pushing me off the soapbox, my friends!

 

 

Alleluia!

Friday Night at The Cafe…

Whew! Another week that seemed to never end! When we were younger, my mother would go around the table at Thanksgiving and have us tell what we were thankful for. There was always some snarky wise-guy (usually whoever was fourteen at the time), who would respond, “I’m thankful we’re almost done being thankful so we can eat!” This week is like that; I’m just so happy it’s over! However, as I’m not a fourteen-year-old wise guy, I’ll have to do better than that. So…

- On Tuesday my friend, J., came over to rehearse for our upcoming Spring Concert. Due to my inconsiderate flakiness a misunderstanding, J. was staying for dinner without any warning for Michael. It was just like the scene in Little Women when John Brooke invites a friend on the day Meg’s decided to make currant jelly. MyLove, however, showed significantly more fortitude than Meg did on that inauspicious occasion. He rolled up his sleeves, made his most delicious tomato sauce and spaghetti while we rehearsed and served us like it was no big thing. He makes tomato sauce so well, y’all! If you knew us when we first met, you’d be shocked at how far we’ve come. MyLove subsisted on peanut butter, crackers, sparkling water and the occasional burger, while I lived on Ramen Surprise and cream-cheese-and-jelly sandwiches during the day and leftover foie gras and kobe beef in marsala sauce at night. Now we dine, like medieval peasants, on stews. Most nights he cooks and I do the dishes; I’m living the feminist dream! All of which is to say, thank you, MyLove, for making dinner on Tuesday night.

The lobby of the Kimmel Center… even in the lobby, the acoustics are incredible…

- On Wednesday I went with J. and another choir singer to see The Eric Whitacre Singers at the Kimmel Center. This was my first time at the Kimmel Center and, apart from singing one song in the choir, my first time hearing Eric Whitacre’s music. To both, Wow… The crowd was predominantly youthful (lots of high school chorus singers) and absolutely appreciative; the man is a rock star among choral singers, judging by the squeals when he appeared, the rapt silence while the choir sang, the doting laughter and cooing during his spoken introductions and the gasps and tears when he did one of his more popular pieces as an encore. The choir received and deserved three standing ovations. And I was blissfully happy for chords and leaps and dissonances and resolutions, for minor falls and major lifts. They opened with an exquisite Alleluia (one of my favorite words) and had me at ‘Lu’! Good to be musically reminded what we’re capable of.

-The fifth season of Mad Men is being posted for 2 weeks, starting Monday, so that’s what I will be doing, every spare minute until I’m through. I find it very … consistent is not quite the adjective, but it’s close. Very compact and consistent; there’s no wasted gesture or gratuitous word. The first four seasons were so compelling and, again, so consistently good, I have no doubt I’ll enjoy this season. And, who are we kidding, the clothes are to die!

- After work on Friday, we met with some friends at The Cafe for knitting and beer (there was less knitting than beer), which was much-needed.

Oh, my goodness, I feel so much better than I did twenty-four hours ago! Have a beautiful Saturday, my friends!

Blue Skies Smiling At Me…

Monday: We are going to France, y’all! Some delightful friends are getting married there in August and, after much backing and forthing over whether to live like the ant or the grasshopper, we opted for grasshoppers. My mother donated credit card miles to pay for one ticket, otherwise we’d be more antsy. Thank you, Mami!

Tuesday: I wrote to my friend, H., whom I’ve known since the first day of pre-school, for his birthday. As it turns out he is in the preliminary stages of planning a trip to Canada, through the U.S. and down to Mexico sometime soon! We haven’t seen each other since… 1999? Wha…? Wowza! Anyway, this is wonderful news.

Also, we took another dance class and, as it turns out that we, Michael and I, have a natural affinity to Tango; it felt intuitive and right. And, damn, if MyLove is not sexy when he tangos. We’re going to focus on tango when our general classes are over and our more specific classes begin.

Wednesday: Last year I canceled a Chase credit card. I paid it down to zero and tore it up and went on my way. A few weeks later Chase called to say that I owed $15 in interest. After much argument and confusion and frustration, I paid it; even though I was convinced this was a mistake, even though Chase could not properly explain the charge, it seemed silly to fight over $15. Just another reason to hate on credit card companies. On Wednesday, I received a check from Chase for $15. In truth I still despise credit card companies, but it’s always nice to feel that the system in not unremittingly malevolent.

Thursday: And I just found out that some friends are coming to Philly this summer and will most likely stay at our B&B! This will be the first time we see them since their second child was born and I cannot wait to meet her!

Friday: It’s Friday and I’m in bed taking a sick day from work. I’m fine, just a bad cold and it is so nice to occasionally play hooky. Thank the blue baboon for paid time off!

Tonight the Screen Sabbath begins, so I’ll be back on Sunday. Have a lovely weekend, my friends!

Book Lovers…

We had the perfect weekend. The high point was walking our books over to University City, in the sun and the breeze and the warmth and the cool of a perfectly weathered day. We were shocked to find possibly the best bookstore in the city has been here for forty-one years, we have been here for four and it was only on Saturday that we met. It has been an intelligence gap of monumental proportions. Crowded and neat, cozy without being dusty and all the books impeccably chosen, the only thing missing was the bookstore cat.

When we met with Storey and Alex a couple of weeks back, we were tickled, but not surprised, to find that we have all been planning our bookstores (how many of you have been doing the same all these years?). Michael and I have often spoken about our bookstore but only as a dream; it is only in the last few months that we have begun to think that it might be possible. Our secret weapon is that we don’t expect to make any profit from it, although making our overhead back would be wonderful. Michael can translate at the counter, in between helping customers, and so be generating income and running the store at the same time, while I would have a part-time job, partly for the additional income and partly for the  health insurance. It doesn’t sound so crazy and we would be living in a smaller, possibly Southern town, where living would be cheaper.

I used to think that it would be frustrating to have to stock trashy mass-market paperbacks and shoddy, glued-together-cardboard hardcovers; I love beautiful editions and good design, Vintage Crime Black Lizard Classics, Penguin’s Great Ideas paperbacks, Virago and Persephone Press for the ladies, Melville Press, old Modern Librarys and old Pleiades and new Gallimards… oh, the list goes on. But do they pay for themselves. Well, if our profit margin does not need to be high, then we don’t need to stock based on market realities. This attitude is what I’m talking about, (although we would never stock so sparsely… so many more books that one could fit!). This store in NYC was also thought-provoking; I dream of and yearn for their Essay Section, as does Michael for their Philosophy Section.

Some of the details are still cloudy, some are not. I would depend on my mother for help with the layout and design, we would not have a cafe (I’ve done that enough) and I have a secret desire for desks with green accountant’s lamps which could be rented out as writer’s spaces, but they probably take up too much space. I would on no account have African-American Literature in it’s own section… ugh, I abhor that practice. I would love a bookshelf in the front that could be used for monthly themes. We’d have more used than new, but only in excellent quality; I, for one, like my books in good condition and I have often had a to leave a book I wanted because the pages were musty or the cover was crumpled. We’ll be open every day except Monday, like they do in New Orleans. MyLove and I would be together a great deal, but, in a small store, we could also cover the store alone so that the other could get out, maybe alternating days. Ideally we would live over the store. Does it seem so crazy? I don’t think so. Wouldn’t you love to come and shop in our store? I would love that too. And, if you did come to shop at our store, I imagine you would walk out and say to each other, “They look so well! But I’m not surprised they ended up here.” I wouldn’t be either!

Dennis, one of my Starbucks custumers, did this for us years ago. The likenesses are not great, but the sentiment is perfect, wouldn’t you say?

The only certainty is the name: Book Lovers. Do you like it? Well, I’m off to bed… with my book and MyLove. Good night, my friends!

What Kind Of Week Has It Been?

Oh, my goodness, I am so tired. It is very possible that the weather is affecting me; I’m not usually so listless… lazy, yes, but listless, not so much. Well, enough of that, on to the good!

Rather than lots of little joys, this week brought two major changes, both of which are wonderful.

The first is that Michael MyLove is now officially working part-time at his day job. We did not think his employer would let him, but he bravely asked anyway and she surprised him by saying Yes. He now works six hours a day, five days a week. Consequently, he is able to accept every translation job that comes, which means that he’s working more than ever, so the part-time thing was total lie! But translation is the long-term plan, so he needs to build it up. I am thrilled about this; if the translations ease up, he’ll have time to pursue his own interests and, if the translations do not ease up, soon he’ll be able to quit his tempy, day job altogether.

The second is that my beautiful cousin is moving to New Jersey. She and her lovely husband and most amazing progeny will now be a 45-train ride away from me, rather than a 3 hour car-ride!!! Such bliss! I can’t go into more detail, as I’m chary of discussing other people’s lives without their permission, but suffice it to say, it’s a good move and, apart from making me very happy (which was their main motive in taking this step, I have no doubt), I think they will be very happy too. Lagniappe!

It snowed today, enough to please the eye without impeding the feet. And next week the temperatures will be in the 50s. This is reason enough for joy.

The wifi is going off and the Sabbath begins. Breathe in, breathe out, release your shoulders. Thank the gods and FDR for Fridays! We’re off to dance class and then a rapturous weekend of doing nothing… apart from yoga class, a trip to the bookstore to trade in the pile and maybe a movie. I hope you’re resting, my friends!

Love,

Jesriel

March 2013 Book Giveaway…

Wow, so late! Michael had a rush translation job, so rush and so complicated that I even pitched in for a couple of hours at the end. This is the first opportunity I get to be on the computer since last week!

Okay, well a very quick round-up for March. I’m so sorry I don’t have time to do the links, as usual, so you’ll have to your own research. Usual rules apply; let me know in the Comments what you would like and I’ll mail it to you or bring it to you the next time we get together… Have at it!

Becoming A Heroine by Rachel M. Brownstein

War And The Iliad by Simone Weil & Rachel Bespaloff

The Golden Road by L.M. Montgomery

The Man With The Shattered World by A.R. Luria

Quartet In Autumn by Barbara Pym

Leviathan by Thomas Hobbes

The Trial Of Socrates by L.F. Stone

After Midnight by Irmgard Keun

Pollyanna by Eleanor Porter

Pushkin’s Button by Serena Vitale

Miss Julie And Other Plays by August Strindberg

Add A Dash Of Pity by Peter Ustinov

The Summer House by Alice Thomas Ellis

A Jury Of Her Peers by Elaine Showalter