The Last First: New York Public Library

I happened across a great little book by Irene Smit & Astrid Van Der Hulst called Know Yourself: A book of questions. Actually, I’ve purchased copies of their other books, chock full of hygge: paper crafting, letter writing stationery, mini-notebooks, book marks, postcards, sketching ideas, tips for relaxing and self care. My Amazon feed suggested it. I bought it. One night I popped it open, you know, to relax and perhaps learn more about myself. I answered the questions without writing anything down and realized these are fantastic writing prompts.

Since it’s cozy season (anywhere else but in central Texas where we’re still at 90+ temps), I’ve decided to turn down the AC and attempt to create cozy fall vibes.

It starts with Gilmore Girls. Last fall, I started watching the series for the first time. My thoughts on Gilmore Girls can be an entirely separate set of posts I’m saving for later–yeah, had I written more consistently I could’ve knocked ’em out by now…

My sister, Angie, is a die hard fall girlie, Gilmore Girls fan, and has dreamed of visiting New England in October.

“So, what’s the verdict?”-Rory

“I am an autumn.”-Richard

I am a summer. I’ll take the heat. Until it’s almost November when cool weather should be the norm. We chat about making a trip happen. Inspired by Gilmore Girls. My niece, her oldest daughter, joined us. Last week, we finished up our first trip to Connecticut and New York in all of its fall foliage glory.

We arrived on Friday, October 10th. We decided to visit New York on Saturday because we’d soon experience our first nor’easter. A guy named Eddie, who worked on a ticket machine at the train station in Milford, assured us we didn’t need to panic. Cold rain and strong wind. He gave us tips and great conversation while we waited.

The one thing I had to see was NYPL. We walked over and noticed a demonstration. Banned Books Week! I had finished out my work week leading up to this trip teaching all of our eighth graders about intellectual freedom and censorship. I asked for a picture with someone wearing one of my favorite childhood books. We chatted about my work as a librarian.

“Better yet,” she suggested, “would you like to wear it?”

How could I refuse? Bonus points for the last time I went to NYPL for the first time. I also got a library card.

When was the last time you did something for the first time? This question taps my shoulder on days I feel myself falling into the mundane. It also guides me when I-don’t-know-what-to-write-itis strikes.

Day 31

It has been a day! I haven’t had time to reflect on this year’s SOL because it came at me hard and fast. A blur of writing.

My late night posts continue. This one is short. Instead of reflecting on my process, I created a Slice of Life 2025 playlist. Not all of these songs may appeal to everyone, but I chose 10 that best portray 31 one days of writing. Starting with today’s Manic Monday and ending with a Celebration I imagine all of us raising our glasses (and pens, er, keyboards) and toasting, “Cheers to SOL Class of ’25!”

Congratulations to you all!

Elements of #hashtag Style

This week, I’m writing in #hashtags. A #postitnote I scrawled on last week led to yesterday’s tip of the day which made me think about how we use them.

Are there #grammarrules? What would #strunkandwhite say about them? Is there a space between a hashtag phrase #likethisone or is it only attached to the #word it connects? If you need #punctuation, (like this comma next door) do you attach it or skip it? So, the boldfaced sentence I just wrote would look like this if I skip it:

If you need #punctuation (like this comma next door) do you attach it or skip it?

But now it #doesntmakesense above because I took out the comma.

Oh, hmmm, what do you do with #contractions? Do you use them or skip them as in the previous #singlesentenceparagraph or #singlesentenceparagraph?

#doesntmakesense

#doesn’tmakesense

#doesnt #make #sense

#doesn’t #make #sense

Perhaps this is a great time to understand and observe how #grammarrules are made and why they exist. Are we now the future #old #cranky people who invented these #dumbrules? Don’t even get me started on #citations…

#Twofer Tuesday

Way back in my #college days, there was a sub shop, or was it a pizza place? Taco joint? Anyhow, this place advertised #twofer Tuesday and you’d get two for the price of one. I figured since it’s #SOL Tuesday and March SOL #challenge, I’d write two posts. As if this challenge isn’t enough.

Here’s to post #1, my introduction to making myself squirm in my writing seat a little (#alot) more than usual.

More bang for your buck, here’s the #twofer.

#hashtag #writerly #vibes

#funny how #writing happens. #solchallenge has ideas swirling in the universe. they were bound to #collide with mine. i moved a #postitnote to one side of my desk this afternoon. last week, i #jotted a #sol draft using #hashtags! in full form, i left it at work and #cantremember anything that was on it.

Tpyos

“Typos are very important to all written form. It gives the reader something to look for so they aren’t distracted by the total lack of content in your writing.”

–Randy K. Milholland

Tpyos bother me, 
mostly when wen they're
my own mistake,
not anyone else's
although I do 
notice them
in porfessional settings,
such as formal publications
online
in a book
an email form 
someone important

I take a second look
how did it make it past
editors?
did anyone proofread?

I'm the type who usually
proofreads
most days
including fly
by the seat of 
my pints
text messages
and yes,
I resend
revised messages

auto-correct
I HATE it!
Fixes words
that didn't need fixing
and changes the enteir
meaning
is there a name for that?

autocorectos

Glass of Merlot

Drat!

For the third week, I meant to remove nail color and re-do my pedi. DIY. I don’t have time to mess with appointments. Too many touch-ups to count because late at night, I’m in no mood to inhale sharp nail polish remover fumes before turning in for restless slumber.

This morning, I have to do something. Taking it all off means I have to wear close-toed shoes. It’s a deep shade of red and there will certainly be residual color stains. We’re still at near ninety degree temps, so I’m wearing sandals. Touching up the chipped off parts means uneven color, most of which is now on the sixth (seventh?) coat. From a distance, some color is better than none. Touch-up it is.

I have an hour commute to a meeting downtown. It’s been years since I’ve driven this direction in rush-hour traffic. If you would’ve told twenty year old me how urban sprawl would choke up everything around it, she would’ve laughed it off and said, “Nah, not here!”

I easily slip into a parking space, not bad for being half an hour late. The opening keynote speaker discusses stories. Making connections with people by telling stories is key. It’s Tuesday. I’m reminded to write something tonight. What story will I tell today? The one about why I chose this career? What about my first experience at a library? You already wrote about that. Did I? Telling stories means we become vulnerable. Am I ready to write about a tough conversation I had this weekend? No. Not that. Not yet.

I fuss at myself for not making myself write regularly despite my need for it. Stuck. Blocked. Frozen. Too many unimportant but urgent things needing to get done. But writing is important.

Our closing keynote speaker asks us to discuss the difference between belonging and dignity. That weekend conversation smacks me with meaning. My sisters and I have entered into a space where we’re balancing both, inching our way through whatever happens.

View from 6th floor-Austin Public Library

It’s a warm, beautiful afternoon. From the sixth floor terrace, I see what once was not visible from the ground. Twenty years ago, the space where I now stand was only air. Buildings seem to have appeared overnight.

I’m glad I wore sandals today. My multi-layered pedi looks fresh. I’ve Got the Blues for the Red. It’s a deep, fall inspired shade of red. I’d call it Glass of Merlot. They go together, the blues and merlot. Stories and vulnerability. Belonging and dignity.

Rules

I swore I’d never bring it to bed, but here I am, curled up with it balancing on my right thigh, curling up as well as one can curl up with…a laptop.

I also swore I’d never let the dog on my bed either, but a few weeks ago, I had one of those leave work early because the room is spinning, the light hurts, things smell funny, and I need a nap type of migraines where said pupper jumped right up and helped himself. He wouldn’t budge so I let him be, curled up at my feet. There are exceptions to rules. I didn’t bother to fight either one.

The dog hasn’t jumped on my bed since that migraine ridden afternoon. It’s late and I’ve been post-less for too many Tuesdays. Make an exception, draft something, and move on. Get back on track. No one cares I’m in bed with the laptop, except for the dog.

8:30 p.m. Dreams

Where did the day go? It’s book fair week at work, so kids have been coming in and out buying posters, gummy bear-topped mechanical pencils, spy pens, everything but books. Money is tucked away in the safe. A short drive home feels endless. Pups greet me and so does a Taco Tuesday dinner in progress.

Before I have time to talk my way out of it, I change into workout gear and head off the Y for Body Pump. I’ve been going for years, three times a week, but once the pandemic changed all of the schedules, it has been hard sticking to that schedule. How did I ever go consistently three times a week? And the kids were younger? I vow to get back on track. Officially, the pandemic was years ago, but it sometimes still feels like last week.

On the way back home, police lights flash ahead on the freeway. Why did I even get on? Should’ve noticed traffic slowing down. Rush hour should’ve tapered off by now. My exit is up ahead. That’s where the lights are flashing. Can’t do anything but wait. Inching closer, I get into the exit lane. Everyone is moving to the left except for a few people exiting. An officer clears flat styrofoam boards from the highway, chunks flying behind cars that got ahead of it. I exit, grateful no one was hurt in a wreck.

I eat reheated tacos alone. The amped up outdoor leaf blower buzzes annoyingly. On and on with the occasional dog bark. It’s an oversized hairdryer of sorts, styling the backyard, freeing it of leaves and oak pollen that became embedded between blades of grass. When will it stop? I put away leftovers, toss dog toys in between for some play time, and get the dishes clean.

How will I relax this evening? Lights are on in the backyard. Everyone, including the dogs have been fed. Game night? A bit of journaling? Slice! I need to slice. Maybe I should take the day off? I just finished a 31 day writing streak.

Don’t do it! That’s how good habits die. It starts with one day and snowballs from there.

My laptop is open and I look through thirty three draft titles. As I mull around ideas, Dreams, by The Cranberries plays from the bedroom. Getting up, I retrieve my phone before my husband groans in complaint.

I haven’t even had time to relax! Or write.

An alarm is set on my phone for 8:30 p.m. I named it STOP ALL OF THE THINGS! It’s time to wind down. Get into pjs. In my current gym sweat state, it’s a shower first. Take out my contacts. Wash off makeup. Get the dogs outside one more time. Put them away. Make sure teen is ready for tomorrow morning…and I haven’t sliced yet.

It’s easier to skip it, but I don’t want a good habit to die. It counts as winding down.

Word Equations

“Taking time to appreciate three beautiful moments in your day instead of one can be extremely meaningful. In my mom’s famous words, let’s make the most of our time here.“
Paris Rosenthal

You know how algebra includes letters with numbers? (I was never good at algebra.) These equations require words. The idea comes from Paris Rosenthal’s book, Project 1. 2. 3. A Daily Creativity Journal for Expressing Yourself in Lists of Three. Write a list of three, prompts are provided, every day. It was a project she continued resulting from her late mother’s work, children’s author Amy Krouse Rosenthal. She posted her list at 1:23 p.m. every day and began the project on 12/3. Her intention was to post for 123 days, but due to her illness, she stopped on day 61.

Like all other things requiring daily discipline to maintain, I faltered and only completed a few pages. Picking up the book for inspiration this afternoon, I took a look at previous entires (I got the book in 2019) and found this one titled Creative Calculations with the following:

__________x__________ = __________

__________+__________ = __________

__________–__________ = __________

My responses on 11/7/19

ideas x solitude = creativity

pen + journal= story

reading – social media = ideas

Today’s responses:

stories + Spotify = podcast

shopping x teen – money = thrifting

(observation + blog) x (community + comments) = SOL

I don’t know if I’ll continue to go through the book every day. I most certainly won’t have my list completed by 1:23 p.m. because I’ll be bogged down with a million other things at that time. I can toss it in my bag. If I get to it, fine, if not, the world moves on. However, I plan to pop in and use it as needed. At the bottom of each page, there’s space to document the date, which my brain likes for keeping track.

Thank you, Amy Krouse Rosenthal and Paris, for brining this project to life, and helping us focus on gratitude and creativity with simple lists of three.

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