Hey, good to see you!


Financially—that’s one of those words that I always have to type out slowly, to make sure I get the ‘n’s’ and the ‘c’ and that second ‘i’ all in their right spots. That word, and ‘management’ somehow always get me tripped up. “Is there an ‘e’ in management??” I’ll randomly call out, whether someone else is there to answer me or not.  If he’s there, The Boyfriend usually does answer, and is kind enough to not remind me of how many times I’ve asked him that same damn question. Usually.


Finances have been on my mind lately, as this past year was (as I imagine it was for countless other people), a bit of a roller coaster.  Money-wise, it sucked big time, and I am further in debt that I thought I would be at this point in my life.  Not scary, “Oh god what have I done” sort of debt; rather a low, frustrated, growl-in-the-back-of-my-throat with a ‘dammit’ thrown in for good measure, debt. But still. Not great, and I had hoped 2015 would be the year I got out of debt. Ha ha on me, I guess.

Happily, it was also a year of me getting my shit together in other respects, and I worked a couple new jobs that, while they probably won’t pan out to be very helpful financially, were pretty great experiences, and opened doors, and helped me to see that,  “No, I don’t need to be stuck in the same rut, doing the same things, just because. Look what I can do over here! and Look at me doing this nifty thing!”

So, that was nice.

Other Things On My Mind:

  • I’m in my mid thirties, and I still have the same interests as I did when I was 5.  Is this a good thing? I’m not so sure. At least I’m consistent, I guess.
  • I’M IN MY MID-THIRTIES. Not that I mind, really…it’s just…..I don’t feel like I’m in my 30’s.  That’s what people say, I suppose, and it’s true. The fact that I have not grown up to look like an adult, but rather an aging pixy doesn’t help matters.  People do frequently assume I’m still in my 20’s (cool), but consequently I’m also not taken as seriously as my taller, more adult looking female co-workers–who are frequently younger than me. (Not so cool).  —-I have a vivid memory of my grandmother (Ruthie was her name. She was adorable) telling me that she didn’t feel like a 65 year old woman, that really she simply felt like a 20-something in a body that didn’t cooperate as well as it used to.  I get my aging pixy tendancies from her, but she was a heck of a looker, whereas I’m more of the “cute”, or “pleasant looking” variety.
  • I am WAY over-due for my yearly gyno appt. Like 4 years over due.  This is not good, since I am at risk for issues in that area, and have had to have preemptive procedures done in the past.  But, not having insurance makes things difficult.  Planned Parenthood is my best option, but I keep finding reasons to not go. Either, I can’t get 4 weeks worth of my pay stubs organized to prove that I need a discount for payment, or I keep timing the appointments for the exact wrong time of the month.  It’s a mess, and the longer time passes, the more anxious I become about how things are going down there, and I feel certain twinges of discomfort that make me fear the worst.  The concern of “can I ever have a kid” has morphed into “have I left it too long….will I see 40?”.

blah blah, health issues, blah blah money. Boring.  Here’s happy stuff:

  • Twinkle lights
  • The last remaining 50 chimpanzees are being retired from research! See? It’s true!
  • Chock Full O’ Nuts coffee in my Harry Potter mug
  • my Christmas tree this year
  • hanging out with my niece and nephew
  • the tree outside my bedroom window
  • the fact that my plant ‘Phyllida’ did not die after I inadvertently let her freeze by the kitchen window a few weeks back.  I’ve had her since 1998, so I’m rather attached, and felt awful for neglecting her like that.  But she’s on the mend, and I’m grateful.
  • the Red Mars, Blue Mars, Green Mars books that The Boyfriend got me for Christmas.
  • the fact that since I’ve taken Sundays off from work, I can now spend some weekends with said niece and nephew.  Not great for my financial woes, but money isn’t everything, and pretty soon those little monsters will be taller than me, and will know how uncool their aunt actually is. Better get my time with them in Now.

One of my pigeons (I have 2) is now letting me know that I’ve been remiss in paying attention to them today. Time to go fix that. Thanks for stopping in.





Change? Nah, I’m good, thanks anyway.

Change. I have never gotten the hang of  it. I wish fervently that this wasn’t the case. I have visions of myself bounding through life, taking change and set backs in stride. My hair is always curly and tied up in some vague bohemian style in these daydreams, perhaps illustrating just how far off base that fantastical version of me is from reality.  My hair is dedicated to its straightness, and simply does not do Bohemian, apparently. My hair is also rather snobbish it turns out (not that it has any right to be, mind  you, but there we are).

4 close friends moved away in 2015: 1 to California, 1 to Portland, and 2 are as you read this adventuring across America in their van.

I didn’t want them  to know just how bereft I was at their leaving.  Being the one left behind is not an enviable position.  What made me saddest was the knowledge that even if and when I see them  again, it won’t be the same. Time will have done its part, and we’ll be different people, and the times that we had are gone.  For ever.
Also, my goals changed (yet again). Blech. No words for that just now. Moving along.

And just today, I found out that Alan Rickman died.  It hadn’t occurred to me that he wouldn’t live to be 90.  If he can die, then anybody could go, and that’s a little bit terrifying.

And here I am, awake at 3:30 am. Again. Well, I suppose it’s nice to be able to count on something.

Bleak Days

Alan Rickman is dead. How can that be? The World losing the likes of Bowie and Rickman–in the same week, no less….well, things seem more bleak today, and I am so sad.

No words are sufficient.




Question of the hour, dear reader is this: How have I accumulated so much damn stuff??

I’ll tell you how:

I’m terrible at getting rid of things (it’s partly New England blood that runs through these veins of mine, after all). Add to that my terrible case of Out of Sight, Out of Mind: if something is tucked away in a drawer, or hiding in the back of the closet, years will go by and I’ll have forgotten it’s even there. And then since I don’t realize I have it, I’ll go and buy another of that thing, and….. you get the idea.

Unfortunately, I live in what amounts to a cubbyhole with The Boyfriend, who is also a bit of a pack rat (no New England blood for him to blame, I’m afraid), and it’s gotten a bit cramped up in here, as the kids say. (Actually, are they? Or is that not a thing anymore? I can never keep up)

Occasionally, The Boyfriend will shake his head in bewilderment, and think out loud about how we need to get rid of stuff, and I’ll nod and mutter something about how we really need to get on that, but neither of us actually follows through.  Why is that?

Is it some existential crisis, where we’re compelled to bog ourselves down with crap we don’t need to keep, said crap representing things that we can’t or won’t get over? Or maybe it’s the fact that we have a tendency to attach memories to things, or a place in time to these objects. Perhaps to throw away that object would then be to say that that memory, or that place in time no longer matters. Maybe.

Or, maybe I just need to get over myself, get my butt in gear,  and sell and donate the stuff that I have no need for. That’s an idea.

I really need to get on that.






Free Shipping Worldwide

One of my very favorite things in this world is reading.  To me, there is nothing better than escaping into a book that I can’t put down.  I don’t have a favorite genre, or a preferred author, or any of those things….I just love the feel of a book in my hands, opening up to where I left off, and jumping back into the story.

I’ve always felt a certain sadness for those who don’t enjoy reading, or who haven’t had the opportunity to learn to read.  On the other hand, didn’t someone say that those who are truly happy in this life don’t read much, because they don’t feel the need to escape this world? Or some such thing.  I tend to agree with that, as I’ve never really felt like I’ve gotten the hang of how to be here, how to live this life.  I mostly just want to escape from it into books and movies and music;  I often have to consciously remind myself to engage in life, and with other people, rather than turn away from them, as I so often do.

Yay books! Yay for escaping from the visceral terror of this so-called reality!

Visit our Online Sidewalk Sale at BetterWorldBooks.com. Free Carbon Neutral Shipping on all orders Worldwide.