Eight new/old books (and one I already had-- oops)

May is whizzing by, and I'm not sticking to my reading list. I can't even find Gilead. It was really good, too. Damn.

I acquired the following from Cunningham's and Crow Books (in Portland and Burlington, respectively):

• The Custom of the Country by Edith Wharton (currently reading, but I left it at work, and now I'm home sick with my third freaking cold of 2009. Fuck.)
  
• The Good Soldier by Ford Madox Ford
• Out of Africa by Isak Dinesen
• Vineland by Thomas Pynchon
• A Month in the Country by J.L. Carr (turns out I have this already-- ok, I knew I had this already, but I had to have the NYRB Classics edition. Anyone want to read a very lovely short novel?)
• Will You Please Be Quiet, Please? by Raymond Carver
• The Hill Bachelors by William Trevor-- have to shout out Nicole for giving me my first William Trevor book Cheating at Canasta. He effing rocks.
• Other Voices, Other Rooms by Truman Capote.
  
• By Grand Central Station I Sat Down and Wept by Elizabeth Smart. Love the title.

I have two crates of books to sell at Yes Books-- this weekend, I hope. I'm going to try very hard to take the check rather than store credit.

Catching up with my whirlwind life

• We bought a Toyota Corolla on Saturday. Silver.
  
• Baked more chocolate chip cookies... am becoming obsessed. I want to make some with the chipotle-flavored chocolate discs they had at The Cheese Iron in Scarborough (we went there for the first time on Saturday... I think I'm in love).
  
• Caught up with my brother and his post-graduation plans on Sunday.
  
• Almost finished my mom's gift.
• On Monday, took the preceptor class at work-- funny because I was "orienting" a nurse on Saturday night that has waaaaay more experience than me.
• Succumbed to more used-book temptation at Cunningham's.
• Made a relatively painless trip to the BMV this morning. This afternoon I get our residential parking sticker and we're good to go for car-related stuff.
• Had a lovely run around Back Cove after my trip to the BMV.
  
• Work the next three, then VT on Friday for some Leunig's, Beansie's, German Cabaret, and other good times with our friend Johnny.
  

Happy place

A day without work is not unvaryingly a great day-- a PTO day unvaryingly is. PTO has to be the best acronym on the face of the earth. For those not in the medical/shift work line, PTO is when they call you at 5:30PM and tell you to stay home for the night-- after you have woken at 4PM, washed dishes, and worked out in anticipation of work. So the deck is clear for whatever spontaneous good times may be rolling by:

• A trip to the beach in glorious weather. It rained hard about the time I got out of bed today, but the clouds were gone by the time Eric came home and I got my call out. We headed to Kettle Cove. We had the place almost entirely to ourselves. Maine really is a wonderful place sometimes.
  
• The open flag was flying at the Kettle Cove Dairy Bar. Opening day! Sweet! My favorite place to indulge (sensibly-- I always get the kiddie cone) in creamy goodness while rolling my eyes (discreetly) at the Mercedes station-wagon set.
• Sipping tea, blogging, and waiting patiently for my spinach frittata (courtesy of Chef Eric)-- which beats the bejesus out of working. AND I get to sleep TWICE today!
  

So, nothing could really add any luster to the day, besides the acquisition of something expensive and adorable... that arrived in my mailbox today:


No those are not my feet. And yes, while searching for this image, I found 4+ other pairs of shoes that I may die without. These are now sold out in my size, so I feel vindicated in yielding so readily to temptation.

Mission(s) accomplished

Looking back on Wednesday's to-do list:

• Post every day: okay, I missed Friday. And twice I resorted to starting a post one day and finishing later so it would look like I had made daily entries. It's hard to write every day. Plenty of topics present themselves, but the writing itself is hard.
  
• Rid my apartment of some excess baggage: there are neatly categorized piles and boxes in my bedroom awaiting Freecycle, Yes Books, and the consignment shop.
  
• Possibly purchase some new baggage on an IKEA pilgrimage: nope. Maybe in June.
• Get my save the dates sorted and work on my wedding info blog: I really should have sent save the dates no later than April. Now they will probably go out late May. But I have a design and designer picked out! And she's going to try and add the motif from the card to a blog template!
  
• Knit like CRAZY: crazy is such a relative term. Like, "My relatives are crazy!" But I digress. I finished Vickie's gift, started a Mother's Day gift, and purchased yarn for Sarah's b-day present (Sarah, I fear it will not be ready in time for the big day). It's hard to knit and read Jane Austen at the same time, despite the potential awesomeness of combining them.
  
• Attend various cultural events: See yesterday's post. We also went Art Walking on Friday and caught up with some of our artistic-dynamo friends at their art show. And ate at Green Elephant, without which no First Friday is complete. Mmmm. Green Elephant.
• Drink lots of wine: three glasses. Three. Boo!

Flashback

As I mentioned Wednesday, my agenda for the week included attending a poetry reading at my former high school. It was a lovely thing, so far from my ordinary nights out, though now that I have thought about it, the kind of thing I used to do frequently in high school. My dear, recently reacquainted-with friend Alicia is a fierce and talented poet. It was thrilling to hear her read/perform her work. Being back in the T.A. library was a bit disorienting, rather like accidentally finding forgotten pictures of yourself taken years ago. Your own life goes on changing, and the life of a school goes on, practically unchanged, without you after you have left.

I met a few people there that I hadn't seen in a long time, including a former teacher. He was
there as part of the poetry group, reading his work. I think I vaguely knew that he wrote poetry when I was his student, but had never heard or read any of it. Most of it was about Vietnam-- hilarious, sad, angry, laced with profanity. He did point out a number of times that it wasn't HIS profanity, mostly quotations from drill sargeants and fellow G.I.s. I think he was trying to preserve decorum in front of so many former students. He has not lost the habit of interrupting himself reading every so often to expand upon a particular word or follow a tangent or fill in background information, a habit I remember well from English class and play practice.

So many people I knew in high school are still pursuing their music/art/poetry/writing in a big way. To stick with these things outside of the built-in audience of teachers and classrooms-- it amazes me and shames me a bit. This whole world still exists where people remember me as an actress and remind me of poems I wrote how many years ago-- I kind of brushed up against it again. It's pretty comfortable here off stage, writing about ugly shoes and knitting to entertain myself and a few of my friends. How much harder to make things without regard to getting paid or even having a crowd show up to see or hear you.

Lazy/productive weekend

I must have forgot to put "sleep at least 9 hours per night" on my to do list for the week. I've been in bed by 10PM every night and up at 7 or 8AM. This is weird because I usually get 7-7.5 hours/sleep on working days. Granted, I wake up for 1-2 minutes every few hours when I sleep during the day. Usually because there are cat whiskers trembling mere centimeters from my face.

Yesterday we ran some errands-- finally got to the post office with Vickie's present, went to the yarn store, dropped off my new jeans to be hemmed-- and test-drove some new cars. I have never had a new car, and now it looks as though I will very soon. We have a 12-year-old Saab that we bought from my parents five years ago. We probably will buy a Honda Civic.

So I was shopping for sensible cars while my coworkers were sleeping off their hangovers. I know this because of Facebook. [Sigh] Being an adult is so interesting from the inside.

I also attacked the water stains on my couch today! One of my feline friends is somewhat bulimic of late and decided our couch, the only piece of brand-new, expensive, and difficult to clean furniture that we own, would be an excellent place to purge in the middle of the night. Fortunately, my other feline friend saw fit to consume most of what the other one left-- I can't believe I let these guys cuddle with me in my bed. Anyway, I wiped the couch down with cool water (thanks, Google), and when it dried, it left some lovely water stains. Every time I see those stains I yell at the cat, which probably doesn't help her bulimia much. So today I blasted those babies with my hair dryer. Good times.

But it wasn't all fun and games at my apartment this weekend. We had some friends over this evening and between the four of us we drank a bottle of wine! And played Settlers of Catan! And ate vegan chocolate cupcakes! Crazy!

Oh, and I'm reading Pride and Prejudice again. Just stick a fork in me now, I'm done.

Thoughts while running

People keep asking me if I have lost weight, or, more presumptuously, telling me I've lost weight. I guess I'm supposed to take this as a compliment. Why not just say, "You're looking good", or "You're looking pretty fine there, sexy lady" (if you must)? That's the route I usually take-- and I never, NEVER ask when someone is due.

In a country where more than half the population is overweight/obese, being thin (or thinner than you were previously) is somehow amazing and exceptional. People want to know what diet you're on, or what you do for exercise, or they speculate that you must be one of those (despicable) people who can eat whatever they want and never gain weight. Imagine asking a fat person what they ate to get so big, or whether they just sat on the couch all day, or saying "You must be one of those people who can't lose weight no matter what you do." Rude, right?

This makes me uncomfortable because I'm not officially on a diet or trying to lose weight. I don't weigh myself. But I recently bought jeans two sizes smaller than I previously wore-- and yes, I did rejoice, privately, in the dressing room. I blame/thank the following:

• I have been avoiding sweets. I try to only eat them on the weekends or on special days. I have done this with a varying degree of success since last fall. This is for health/sanity reasons. I'm a nicer person when I eat less sugar, and I found that after a few weeks I didn't really miss it.
  
• I stopped stuffing myself, mostly because I hate the feeling of overeating. I stop eating when I'm full.
  
• Since I started working nights, I have been able to exercise 5-6 times a week. When I was working days and nights, 3-4 workouts was the best I could manage. It just seemed unnatural to get up at 4AM to go for a run. When I wake up at 4PM, it feels perfectly normal to work out before going to work at 6:30.
  
• Core Fusion. I have never believed in workout videos before this. The first time I did it, I thought my ass was going to just give up and fall off of my body. I was actually laughing at how hard some of the exercises were. It's still challenging three months later. Today I'm calling to cancel my gym membership. Seriously.
  
• I have some kind of cancer that I don't know about yet. Less plausible given the above, but you never know. It would be a fun retort next time someone tells me I've lost weight ("especially in your face!")-- "Thanks, I have cancer!"

I wish I could say I was immune to body anxiety. Full length mirrors and cameras have not been my favorite things in the past. There's only so much truth you can face before you just decide to ignore it-- I think that's how people end up weighing 300+ pounds. This line of thought makes me uncomfortable because I've never really been overweight. I just felt like I was. It's easy to say this is crazy now that I'm smaller.

It's also easier to make healthy choices when you like yourself. Running has been a huge boost to my self-esteem. I'm a pretty crappy runner, to tell the truth, but every time I finish my pathetic three miles, I feel like a bad ass, especially when the temperature is 25 or 85. Forcing yourself to endure the discomfort is an achievement in itself. It has nothing to do with looking good in a bikini.

Near the end of my usual running route, I pass by Cumberland Farms, a low-rent gas station/convenience store. You can count on a finding a selection of Portland's more colorful residents gathered there at any one time, so I was surprised to meet one of my favorite coworkers on Thursday as I was finishing my run. I stopped for a few minutes, and what do you think we started talking about? "You've lost weight, haven't you?" D'oh! "Yeah, everyone keeps saying that. I guess I have." "You can tell, especially in your face." Oh, sweet Jesus, am I going gaunt? Will I need cheek implants like Madonna? "I guess I should take that as a compliment." "Well, you look good." Should I tell her about the cancer? "Thanks."