Overwhelmed

I feel buried by all the messaging we do these days--e-mails, texting, voicemail, facebook, etc.  I am SOOOOOO behind in terms of responding.  And I'm also losing e-mails--a few weeks ago a good friend e-mailed to inform me that her first grandchild just made her grand entrance--and I missed it altogether.  I hate the way g-mail bundles stuff.  There's probably a way to address that particular issue, but I'll be damned if I know what it is.  I spent two hours yesterday going through my queue, and I still have loads more.

I think people of my kids' generations feel freer to ignore and delete.  My communication model is that you should respond somehow, although I often don't do it in a timely fashion these days.

Because I'm buried, you know.  How are you feeling on the communication front?  How do you manage?

Thanks for letting me whine.  

It's been a long time

You thought I was going to say "since I blogged," right?

But actually what I was going to say is this:  it's been a long time since I've had the experience of really falling into a book.  And by that I mean being in the book so thoroughly that you're living the lives of those characters--even dreaming their dreams at night.

I had that experience this week.  I went up to the farm with Betsy to write (hence my silence--no wi-fi there) and in the evening I read ALL THAT I AM by Anna Funder, a novel set in Germany between the wars.  Because I wasn't distracted by TV or the internet or the phone or housework or anything at all, I read uninterrupted--something that never ever ever EVER happens these days.  And so I fell into the pages and inhabited the streets of Berlin and London with passionate, desperate people.

It's a fine novel, although at this point I don't think I can be objective because of the intensity of the reading experience itself.  If you read it, let me know what you think.

An accounting

In the last two weeks I have . . .

Read three books:  HOW TO LIVE OR A LIFE OF MONTAIGNE by Sarah Bakewell, THE FINISHING SCHOOL by Muriel Spark (I love her), and THE NAME OF THE STAR by Maureen Johnson.

Also read various essays by David Rakoff, as well as half of Anne Tyler's (I love her,too) new book, THE BEGINNER'S GOODBYE.  And also your blogs!

Consumed insane amounts of Dr. Pepper.

Planted various things in my yard, including Garden Phlox, Jacob's Ladder, and Dead Nettle.  The "dead" part is the name and not a description of its state.

Talked multiple times to all my boys, including the ones on the coasts.

Eaten salad with TRQ who told she's never actually been a fan of the salad.

Walked and/or run most mornings with Kathy and sometimes both Kathy and Nancy.

Written sample chapters and sent them off.

Knit a pair of socks.

Written two columns and also blogged.

Seen a few friends, all of whom I cherish.

Spotted and identified birds outside my window.

Attended three baby showers (how is that possible?), a groom's dinner, two receptions, and a wedding.

Participated in a spelling bee where I managed to spell "daiquiri" but struck out with "inoculate."

Thanks to Lisa B. for the motivation to account now and then.  Accounting makes you realize that you're doing more than just watching TV.  Which I have also done.

Sweetness

Today is my friend Becky's birthday.  If she were still alive, she'd be 56, just like me.  Unlike the anniversary of her death, this is a happy day.  I always think about how lucky I was to know her, and I remember the little gifts and lunches we always shared to celebrate the occasion.

And speaking of little gifts . . . I just opened a book of mine I haven't opened for maybe ten years, even though I love it:  THE ART OF THE PERSONAL ESSAY edited by Phillip Lopate.  I'm doing a leetle report on Montaigne tomorrow, and so I thought I'd read his essays there.  Anyway, Becky's handwriting filled the margins.

I know!

I'd forgotten that I'd once loaned her the book (she taught a class for me) and so all her notes were right there for me to read.  What are the chances, people?

Hey, Universe!  Thank you.

Testing

Testing

Testing

Hmmmm

So I hate this new blogger format. I just wrote the piece below using actual paragraphs. But when I hit the publish button, look what happened. ONE HUGE PARAGRAPH THAT WILL SCARE READERS AWAY.

A Sunday kind of thought

I used to have a neighbor--she died a year ago last January--who was certifiable. She pulled out her hair. She stole things. She begged on street corners when the mood took her. She spent a good portion of the 60's in and out of state-run asylums in California--a grim reality that haunted her. For many years I visited her on Sundays where she showed me newly acquired treasures and kept me updated on the people in her life, including her landlord who treated her with unfailing kindness. One day she pointed to a framed picture of Jesus on her wall. Maybe you've seen it. Rembrandt painted it, which (among other things) means it's remarkable for its play of light and dark. "That's my favorite picture of Jesus," she told me. "Do you know why?" I shook my head. "It's the one that looks the most like Him." And then her face grew smooth and round with a secretive peace. "I've seen Him, you know. In person." I think about this sometimes--how if Jesus really did decide to visit a believer's home in person, He'd probably visit someone exactly like my neighbor--someone in an unremarkable apartment stuffed with stacks of newspapers, shoeboxes, unused dishes, glass figurines, and dried roses who has spent a lifetime staring at the irrational and seeing patterns of the possible there.