Fabled Bookshop and Cafe has another little hiding place. Upon entering and scanning the layout, plotting my first bookcase to peruse, I noticed an adorable writing nook (occupied) on the left side past Aesop. A writer, deep in thought, oblivious to those entering behind her. I glanced her way, took note, and on we went.
Later, I went back to that section where the travel books take you wherever you want to go. The nook was unoccupied, its writer a ghost of a memory. Who was she? What did she write? How long was she there? Is she a regular?
My daughter took a seat. “I can do homework here, no distractions.”
“I can write in my journals here, no distractions,” I agreed.
It’s a small desk with and a steel book holder and potted plant lit by a wall sconce. That’s it. We noticed a single desk drawer.
“Open it.”
She opens the drawer. A pile of hand-written notes (the best kind) greet us, happy to get a breath of fresh air. “Ooh, notes! Do you have paper so I can add a drawing?”
No, I didn’t have paper.
Already having spent a chunk of time there, my companions’ patience wore thin. I’ll only read one. I’ll come back another time. Solo. I can spend the entire day here. Of course, I didn’t say that out loud.
I took one note and read it.
Yes, I do have dreams so big, it scares me half to death to chase them.
Enchanted Rock. It’ll enchant you to want to hop on boulders and flit around like a mountain goat until you realize you’ve gone too far and the only way to a trail, any trail, is down. And it’s steep. If you hike often and lift lots of weights, no problem. We don’t. Sure, side stepping your way down works, unless the descent is too steep. Without rails and nothing to hold on to. Slide down if need be. If you’re wearing weather proof shorts, you’ve got the perfect seat to a fast slide all the way down a massive pink granite rock.
Don’t lose the trail map. On second thought, study the trail map, make a plan, and read about what’s on the other side. Not many people going your direction? That’s a slap in the face, shake you back and forth until your eyes pop out sort of sign that maybe you’re going the wrong way. The hard way. The way meant for experienced hikers twenty years younger. The guy rappelling down the boulders you went around? Yeah, he won’t be able to save you.
Toes slide to the ends of shoes as you have a death grip on the rock trying not to lose your footing. Stay balanced. Focus. One foot in front of the other, lean back a little, bend the knees. Be patient, be patient, be patient. Once you get going it’s hard to stop so if you want to jump step it down, you’d better be ready and balanced for what’s coming.
There’s a trail. No one is on it. This goes to the lake. The car is on the other side. How far to go around because we so are NOT going back up to the other side. Go back. Regroup. Thank goodness for the checkpoint telling us YOU ARE HERE with an arrow marking our spot. Yes, we are, here, but how do we get out?
Take the other trail. But Mom! It looks like we have to go back UP! I can’t do that again!
More people. That’s a good sign. Better than the map. Keep going. It’s a bit rocky, but nothing close to what we just went through. Aha! Here we are. Everything looks familiar. Stop for a snack. Guess who thought of packing them? Take more glugs of water.
Dad! This is the way we came up!
And the way we should’ve come down. Who says adventures are always fun?
Life lessons learned: Together, you’ll get through steep descents and boulders. Sometimes, you’ll slide down on your ass.
2 books x 3 inches x 1,020 pages. B x In. x Pp, are those the standard dimensions for a TBR tower? Mine is so much more than a pile. After discussing my break-up books in yesterday’s post, I took a day trip to a fantastic little books store. My budget didn’t allow for more, but I wound up with two more books to add to my TBR (to be read) tower.
I wasn’t planning it this way, the magic of the universe, (God?) pieces things together in more perfect ways than I can ever imagine. I purchased two “Catholic” books. Fitting during Lent. Rather than lamenting over authors I’ve never read and shaming myself for it, I admit I never read anything by Flannery O’Connor.
The Complete Stories of Flannery O’Connor
I heard she was an incredible writer. Oddly (perfectly) enough, a few years ago during Lent, I watched a video series by Bishop Robert Barron called The Pivotal Players-Fulton J. Sheen & Flannery O’Connor. Fascinated with her life and writing process, I was introduced to A Good Man is Hard to Find, along with an analysis of that work. I put her books in my Amazon cart. It must have been 2020 because I couldn’t get to the library or Half Price Books to poke around the shelves to look through her books. They stayed deep in my virtual cart because I wanted to take a peek first. Are her books those I want to own? Will we break up? Will I read and return them, dust myself off, and move on with my life?
Drinking with the Saints: The Sinner’s Guide to a Holy Happy Hour by Michael P. Foley
Another find practically leaped off the shelf and straight into my arms. I carried that book around the bookstore like it was a textbook; it weighs about as much. I heard about this one from a guy named Matt Fradd on Instagram, and have listened to some of his Pints with Aquinas podcast episodes. That led me to another Instagram account, drinkingsaints, and here we are.
I like that I can pop in as often as I can with these books. Short stories. Saint stories. Plus mixology recipes. I’ll sip (and read) to that!
Abandonment sounds so final. If it isn’t a good fit, there’s no point to continue reading. However, I’m the type who wants to hang on until the end, gives me more to talk about if I don’t like it. I use the term “breaking up with a book” to explain to students to move on and find something else if they aren’t connecting with their selections. It’ll still be there if you want to go back to it later, I tell them.
Why don’t I take my own advice? Why would you want to read a book you aren’t enjoying? I do it to myself. I’m loyal. Even with books. Usually.
I’m on a re-reading streak of some favorites. Deenie by Judy Blume. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets on audio (so good!). The Art of Gathering by Priya Parker. Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert. I need to stop here because I’m already overloading my list. This in addition my regular TBR tower, which groans under the heft of a new book I can’t resist when I’m shopping. I buy the ones that have library waitlists longer than several months.
I’m a slow reader, so if a book sounds like a great read, I usually buy it so I can spend all the time I need with it. Unfortunately, it takes me a while to get to them.
Beyond the queue, I’m considering adding break-up books. For different reasons, I couldn’t handle them at the time I picked them up. Dare I go back?
I broke up with A Wrinkle in Time as a kid, as a teacher, and as a parent. I checked this book out every year in middle school. I couldn’t get past the first few chapters. I tried reading it to my fourth graders one year. They weren’t crazy about it, we reassessed, and chose something else.
When the 2018 movie was released, the one with Oprah, my nine year old requested the book. We got a copy after having watched the movie, which is the opposite of our books-to-movie household rule. I started reading it aloud to her and she intercepted the book after the first few chapters. Book dumped. Similar to being Netflix dumped, but with a book. She finished it without me. It wasn’t a favorite, but she enjoyed it while it lasted. I seem to stop every time after, who is it–Mrs. Whatsit?– shows up.
The Hobbit. Fourth time’s a charm? I also broke up with this one as a kid, as a teacher, and as a parent. I have it on Audible. It’s next in line after I finish HP2, which is due tomorrow. I watched the movie with my oldest and enjoyed it. This one might work.
I once read or heard somewhere that people need to listen to great stories. Was it Neil Gaiman?
Those great classics? They’re meant to be read aloud. They sound different when you hear them. I enjoyed Harry Potter, but listening takes it to a whole other level. If it’s a great listen, I can always go to the book to annotate, highlight favorite passages, and maybe add it to my TBRA pile, to be read again, in print.
I’m sure there are more, but here are other book relationships that didn’t work out, each for different reasons. I may rekindle these by listening instead. (Except for Verity, I flat out didn’t like that one.)
Ever been “Netflix dumped?” It hurts. Not as bad as a real break-up, but still. I mean, I made a commitment. I promised. I said yes to an entire series with you. Then you went off and didn’t even wait for me. You cheated and watched. Every. Single. Episode. Without me, after I promised you I wouldn’t stray.
This isn’t the first time you’ve done it either. Season 4 of Stranger Things. How could you? After all, on your eleventh birthday, I vowed to let you watch season one. I fulfilled my end of the deal. We watched that first episode the night of you birthday. I even allowed snacks upstairs. Every day until the end of season three, we all watched it with you.
I worked that day and you just couldn’t wait. You promised you’d wait for me to get home even though summer break had already started for you. Lucky. But no, I got home and you had to brag about binge watching it. TWICE! Because you started watching when they dropped it at midnight. You would’ve thought you’d won a hot-dog eating contest. Glutton.
Then Heartstopper. Same thing. You watched a few episodes and swore you’d wait for me. I only got through the first three and you left me behind. Again. You had already gone through them twice, so why rush the third round? Sheesh.
The last one was Wednesday. Seriously!? You didn’t even know about Wednesday Addams until you found teasers for this Wednesday! I don’t want to watch anything with you again. You keep Netflix dumping me. I hate being mistreated this way. Take all the fun out it. I’ll watch on my own from now on. Don’t start on me when I decide to watch something without you.
has Friday become a dreaded yet welcome
oxymoron–
the end of the week
but an entry to the weekend
where once, after work
hours of happiness
clinking glasses
full of endings
and beginnings
now are more work
than mondays
that make one
want to go
home and
crawl
into
a
hole?
I know my wardrobe needs refreshing. We have jeans days every Thursday and Friday. Thursday we top them with a school t-shirt, Friday it’s a college t-shirt. A uniform of sorts. I don’t complain; I know what to wear at least two days of the week. Jeans aren’t my favorite so I may or may not wear them two days in a row if they’re still clean. Don’t want to waste the break-in from the last wash. I can move in them better on day two.
Having worn 80’s and 90’s fashion trends, I don’t want to wear them again. There’s nothing wrong with them, they just don’t feel right. I got my dose of parachute pants and floral prints with thick soled shoes the first time around. Cropped oxford shirts aren’t appropriate for me to wear to work. Sure I could wear a tank underneath it, but why not just make regular length oxford shirts? It’s a remix of what was trendy, but now I can’t wear it even if I want to.
Warmer temperatures have me scanning my closet for transition pieces. Dresses, especially flowy ones that are potluck friendly pair well with a jean jacket studded with bookish enamel pins. I’m not to old for that trend. I found a great dress a few weeks ago. I can dress it down or dress it up. It works with low profile sneakers, sandals, flats, you name it. Heck, if we go to the beach this summer, it will also be great for a family photo, salty breeze flowing through my hair, sun-kissed skin, a sunset behind us…
No, I didn’t try it on. It was late and I didn’t want to mess with the dressing room. Everything looks different at home, so might as well buy it and try it on in in the wild with normal lighting. If it doesn’t work, I’ll return it. I put it on and tied the belt around my waist. So comfy. Plus, POCKETS! This dress has pockets! I can stash Jolly Ranchers in them during a lesson and parse them out to the brave little souls willing to answer a question with actual vocal cords. I grab my jean jacket and put it on. Definitely an option for those chilly-ish days. I go through my shoes and find several that will work. Sandals for the beach. Birks for weekend brunch. Flats for church. Sneakers for work, on some days. This is perfect!
Giddy, I skip on over the the full length mirror. What. Is. That? My hips look like they’ve doubled in size. I turn around. Maybe it’s the jacket. I take it off. Maybe I tied the belt too tight? I untie it and retie it, looser. I put my hands in my pockets. Change shoes. Nope, nope, nope. It’s none of those things. Exactly. I look at the sleeves. 3/4 length with elastic, the kind those prissy influencers say to avoid. Well, I’m no influencer, but what in the world?
As cute as it was on the hanger this is all wrong. The sleeves are puffy. I got a size too big and how is it that something a little bigger actually makes you look bigger? There is no size medium and a half! That would be perfect. Maybe. I look at the sleeves. I look at the entire dress. Now that I think of it, I look like I’m wearing a belted hospital gown. The puffy sleeves make me look like an oversized mint colored marshmallow.
I take it off and put it back in the bag. Who made puffy sleeves a thing this season? Marshmallows? Sure, I’ll take one now and then roasted over a fire, but I certainly don’t want to wear them.
It’s my turn already? Uggg, I just… Okay. Sheesh. There. I close my eyes. Take a deep breath, and try not to think. It’s okay, no biggie.
Beep, beep, beep!
I slam press hard. I’m not ready for this. No worries, it’s fine…
Beep, beep, beep!
Goodness, I KNOW it’s my turn, I’m just not feeling it. It’s hump day. Two more to go.
Beep, beep, beep!
I just fell asleep after my 3:00 a.m. jolt out of slumber.
Why?
We go back and forth in five minute increments until 6:10. My eye pillow flops to the floor at my last attempt to slam the alarm clock, but instead I turn it off. I should’ve just set the thing for 6:15 a.m.
I get out of bed and don’t even look back at the sleep I left behind. It left me at 3:00, but I gladly took it back with open arms, reconciling my frustration and sinking deep into delicious rest that’s cut too short with my day job’s wake-up call.
Ever see or meet people who pop in for a brief moment in your life only to never be seen again? These are people we may have met in the grocery line, or observed from afar. Here are a few:
The Peace Guy
This guy ran on the opposite side of the road in front of the elementary school every morning. I’m in the right lane, he’s on the edge of the street even though there’s a sidewalk. He wears a different colored 80’s style sweatband on his forehead and thick, black rimmed glasses. His hair bounces up and down in rhythm to his steps. As soon as I get closer, he gives me a big grin and his right hand holds up a peace sign. Happy running, Peace Guy! I smile and wave as I go through the school zone. Every morning, at the same time, there’s the Peace Guy. I don’t know when I stopped noticing him. Did he move? I’m sure wherever he is, he still puts a smile on people’s faces, at least those who take the time to notice.
The Boy with the Doughnuts
There’s an eighth grader who comes to the library every morning. He’s quiet, signs in, sits in the back corner and puts down a small white bag. It sits to the right of his Chromebook. Sometimes he does homework. Most days he sits with a girl and they chat. Last week he brought a pair of canvas shoes he proceeded to color with alcohol ink markers.
One day I asked, “What’s in the bag?”
“Doughnuts.”
“You must live near a doughnut place or get up really early to have enough time to stop for doughnuts.”
“It’s on the way, my mom stops to get me some.”
“Well, you know, if you’re bringing doughnuts in here every day, you should bring me one too,” I tease.
Sure enough, the next day, he stops at my desk on his way to sign in. “I brought you a doughnut. It’ looks like you like chocolate.”
“You didn’t have to, but I’m glad you did. Thanks.”
He drops off my doughnut and assumes his place in the back corner, the little bag of doughnuts, neatly folded, waiting for the bell to ring.
The Lady at Target
There’s a lady at the checkout lane at Target. She usually sits on a stool and since Covid, she always wears clear plastic gloves. Her curly gray hair is sometimes pulled back, but she usually wears it down. She’s polite and chats with every person who goes through. She comments on items as she scans them.
“This must be new, it’s so cute,” she says scanning a hoodie.
I know she’s from New Mexico because she chatted about it with the person in front of me. I don’t purposely seek her out, but it seems I wind up in her lane more often than not. Next time, I need to make sure I read her name tag and thank her appropriately.
Nerds Beget Nerds 