Things have been happening on my end even if I sometimes forget that I actually have a blog and pay for a domain. To start off with, work has been insane lately. An adventure that began at the New Year finally culminated over the past two days, rendering my colleagues and I dumbfounded, speechless, angry and then safely ensconced in a bar. Such is the life of a federal contractor, eh? Towards the end of the event, the fed we’d been working with the most stood up to thank everyone who put together this event . . . except us. Even if we did the lion’s share of the work and saved their asses, oh, a million times. His/her supervisor got up at one point and thanked us, but I was already out of the room. At this point, knowing the federal culture and this agency, I know federal employees see contractors as sub-human wastes of space who are taking their jobs, but as demonstrated during this gem of a fiscal year, they have no clue how to do their job. But they sure will take the credit at the end when everything goes dandy!

Lovely.

But—and this is a big but—my role was substantially different this time around during the event and I actually had a good time. If I got to do what I did over the past two days on a more frequent basis, I might not want to leave. Might.

However!

I do have two interviews lined up right now, which is awesome. If anything else, it gets me back into the mode of interviewing. And the event plus the interviews also cement the idea of buying another suit. I do need to invest in another high quality suit, but I was able to buy one for $50 at NY and Company thanks to their Labor Day sale. Obviously not the best suit out there, but NY and Company pants are pretty damn comfortable and flattering on me. And $50 for a suit after spending $300 for the J Crew one? Hot damn, yes.

In addition to job-related excitement, IP and I have had visitors to entertain, birthdays to celebrate, anniversaries to celebrate, people to visit, books to read and a crappy Internet connection to contend with these past few weeks. I know that we’ll have to bite the bullet and call Verizon to get them to fix the goddamn issues (as I’ve done all the troubleshooting I can do on my end), but seriously, who ever really wants to call Verizon? Not I, said the WordNerd.

And oh? Another bullet I did bite was ordering a computer. Soon I’ll be posting from this baby:

Sony Vaio EA Series PC

No, I did not get a MacBook Pro. But yes, I did my best to make it look as much like a MacBook Pro as I possibly could.

©2010 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

At least dream me has some athletic ability and, quite possibly, the chance to make it out of Joe Louis alive.

©2010 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

And lo, it did! On July 11 (so my order history tells me), I was finally able to place an order for the skirt, priced now at $39.99. I was giddy, I was delighted. I’d finally have a cute pencil skirt for the very nice orange blouse my sister had given me for my birthday in May.

I wore it for the first time shortly afterward, receiving a myriad of compliments. As is my wont, however, heading home on the Metro was anything but uneventful. A small Metro stain, nothing too serious, appeared on my skirt, and off to the cleaners it went. Remember: small Metro stain, no bigger than a quarter inch, I would say. Nothing else on the skirt.

While the skirt was at the cleaners, I was in Michigan. My mom, Dorkus and I went to Briarwood Mall one day, just browsing. I didn’t intend to buy anything, but I ducked into Ann Taylor because a) I’m rarely in a brick and mortar store these days and 2) I wanted to see if maybe, just maybe, the skirt’s suit jacket was there, on clearance. I checked the back of the store and lo! It was there! Reduced from $158 to $78. I went for it. How often do you get a decent quality suit from Ann Taylor for $120 total? With my skirt due back from the cleaners and my new navy blue J Crew suit hanging in my closet, I would be interview-ready if need be (knock on wood that it happens soon). I carefully packed the suit jacket into my luggage, hopeful that it wouldn’t need more than a steaming when I returned home from my Michigan visit.

A few days after our return, IP picked up our dry cleaning. I came home from work that day, went into the bedroom to change into my workout clothes. I noticed the clean clothes from the cleaners hanging in my closet. I then noticed some dingy white material hanging from the closet doorknob. What the hell?

Readers, I do not hesitate to tell you: I howled in protest and anger.

On my skirt were several red stains; one in particular was huge and square-shaped. I was stunned—how did this get here? Why did I have my skirt back and not $39.99 if this couldn’t be cleaned? I asked my husband what the deal was.

The deal was this: the cleaners claimed that the stains were on the skirt when we dropped off our dry cleaning bundle. They wanted us to know that they could attempt to clean it, but there was no guarantee that they could successfully remove the stains. I again howled in protest and anger.

Those stains were not there. Only the small Metro stain. I looked at the clock and realized I had 15 minutes before they closed. Ill-advised, but I marched over there. Not to give them a piece of my mind or to demand money, but to let them know that, no, these stains were not on there before, and to ask what process they would use should I choose to have them attempt to clean my skirt?

I know I can’t win against a dry cleaner. But I wasn’t going to be shy about this: they did it.

They protested. It was there! First, it was my makeup. I raised my eyebrows and informed them a) I don’t wear makeup and 2) why would facial makeup get on my skirt? Second, I must’ve sat on something. Then how did it bleed through to the front of skirt, bypassing the back of the skirt? Three, it was the oils on my skin! Then why didn’t the waistband have the same kind of stains? Why was the lining clean? Protest after protest even when I told them I was less concerned with that than wondering how they might go about cleaning the skirt. They insisted I bring along the suit jacket so they could match the colors on both pieces when they cleaned the skirt. That? Made me even more nervous. I’d just paid $78 for that suit jacket. No way was I going to give it over to them, and who knows how much the whole process was going to cost. The price of a new suit? We’ve had a good relationship with this place, and I’m willing to admit when a stain was there to begin with—it’s happened once before that they didn’t clean something because of a stain that I knew was there, so it was no biggie then. But those big red blotches all over my white pencil skirt? Not there.

I suspect they threw it into one of their usual bags, the skirt ended up at the bottom of the bad, and something bled through the bag onto my skirt. But they’re not going to own it, and I’m not going to try to make them own it. I just don’t know that I want them touching my white pencil skirt again. It’s futile, there is no solution, but my trust in the business has plummeted severely, and I don’t want to pay them for essentially ruining my suit.

Of course the skirt is sold out, so I can’t easily replace it. No listings on eBay, either, that would save me. So now I have a dingy white skirt I can’t wear and a brand new jacket that will sit unused unless I buy the cropped pants (not very interview-worthy, though), or until I give in and pair it with another bottom. My heart, it is broken. No longer do I have two interview suits, just one. Sure, this is assuming that I get any interviews, and any callbacks even, but I like being prepared. Now I have to watch for another suit to go on mega sale so I can snatch that up.

It will be brown or black.

©2010 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

1. Hunting down friends’ baby pictures on Facebook
2. Plotting to stop taking birth control . . . without your husband’s knowledge because you say you’re “secretly” going to stop taking it
3. Allocating space for baby’s belongings
4. Bookmarking websites for the things (i.e., clothes, furniture, cute stuff) the baby will need
5. Researching cloth diapers versus disposables
6. Deciding what color the kid’s room will be
7. Actually buying baby clothes and storing them away until they’re needed

Then yeah—I don’t have it.

What struck me about this post (on a board I lurk on) was how superficial it was. It was all about the material things that babies need or the spaces they will inhabit, instead of the idea of raising a child for 18 years. Sure, the cute poofy-cheeked goodness stage is awesome, but then they’re toddlers, and then kiddies, and then tweens, and then teens and then, good lord, you have to pay for college. For one or more people.

I admit to squealing at poofy-cheeked goodness—it can’t be helped because we’re wired to squeal at said goodness. I will sometimes demand that IP give me a baby RIGHT NOW because of their adorable antics. I read MO Mommy and Mila’s Daydreams because, holy hell, cute babies. I enjoy MO Mommy and Dooce a lot because, holy hell, not just cute babies, but actual musings on how difficult it is to parent. Beyond thinking babies are cute, the idea of parenting (read: not just focusing on what you will buy for Junior) weighs heavily on my mind, weighs tremendously on IP’s mind. We are scared, y’all. We want to be good parents, and we both have histories that make us worry that we could really, really suck as parents. We also have people in our lives whose reaction to any kids we might have worries us. In thinking about procreating, we’re not just concerned with what type of rocking chair to get for those sleepless nights, but what type of person we’re raising and whether we’ll do it right of if they’ll hate us and if they’ll be productive, well-adjusted members of society. Because neither IP nor I considered ourselves particularly well-adjusted. Different factors made us not so well-adjusted, but we were both late bloomers, and with late blooming comes insecurity that we’re not bloomed enough to be parents.

Does that make sense?

I hope everyone on that board who’s stashing away links and clothes and paint colors for baby realizes that they’re going to be raising a human being—the kid won’t stay nine months old forever, you know? I really hope they’ve talked about the biggies: religion, grandparents, how to handle schools, socialization, balancing home with the overabundance of extracurricular activities, discipline and engagement (will you actually talk to your child and allow him/her to express themselves reasonably, or will you parent only when needed?). I find it frustrating to see them conflate the desire to have cute baby things with the task of raising a person—they’re two totally different things in my mind and they don’t seem to realize it. Is it cliché to scream, “Won’t somebody please think to the children!”? Because I really want them to think of the children, the people, they’ll be raising, not the cute baby stage because, honestly, it all ain’t cute. They try to discuss more serious things on the board—why not discuss the perceived difficulties of being a parent and how you and your spouse have decided to proceed? That’d be a lot more helpful and interesting and thought-provoking than saying Etsy has some really cute baby stuff.

Bottom line: I feel like they approach parenting like they did wedding planning. They make the decision seem so easy.

©2010 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

Yesterday, as evidenced by this press release, Metro had another fucked up afternoon—I can’t blame them for the downed wires on the track, though, because even I realize that this was out of Metro’s control. However, it backed the system up big time, and by the time I got to Metro Center and saw the huge wall of people, standing on tiptoes to see if the next train was coming and squaring their shoulders to plow through the crowds and get onto the train, I turned to IP, cranky, and said:

“We could just go to Gordon Biersch. We could have a couple of beers and just go home for dinner, but if it’s between waiting down here or waiting in an air-conditioned brew pub, I choose the brew pub because I choose me.”

Well, I didn’t say that exactly. I just said that GB was probably a good idea given the time between trains. So we made the decision that yes, yes we were going to kill some time at GB and have a few brewskies (wait, did I just write brewskies!?) while Metro worked out its issues. Sure, we need to touch up the place before IP’s brother visits, but we’ll be fine—the apartment is two-thirds of the way there!

So exited Metro Center we did, where we were treated to the sight of a woman, crossing the street against the light at a leisurely pace and talking casually on her cell phone, almost become a stain on F and 10th. Like I said, she was jaywalking, but the black SUV that almost mowed her down purposely SPED UP to scare her. It seemed, to our eyes, that she just barely jumped out of the way, and I think the entire block froze as the SUV closed in on her. It took us a moment unfreeze once we saw she was still intact.

Now, there was plenty of blame to go around, but had she been hit, hurt or killed, I would be willing to testify that the black SUV’s actions were malicious and intentional—and the driver was going way above downtown speed limits, too. I don’t care how stupid a pedestrian is being, trying to scare them to make a point could land your ass in jail, so don’t do it, okay? I say this as a pedestrian who tries very hard to be alert and a driver who’s very aware of pedestrians (unlike most Metro D.C. drivers).

But, this woman was either completely oblivious to the recent danger or in shock. As IP and I passed her, she was still jabbering on her phone at her friend, talking about some situation with a mutual friend. “Lady,” IP said to me, “whatever personal drama you have going on really, really pales in comparison to the fact that you just ALMOST DIED.”

Truth, yo.

And so, after witnessing a pretty scary moment, the evening began in which we discussed an upcoming change for IP, my struggles to leave my current job, a friend who had a recent scare with her kid (and this, I say as someone who is usually flip about kid stories, was the kind of thing you can’t be flip about—it was damn scary, and I’m glad all is well), marveled over our first year of marriage and enjoyed some downtime together. We got silly tipsy (okay, he was tipsy, I was drunk), ate Southwest egg rolls, fries and pizza, and had the Summerbrau seasonal beer until they ran out and it was time for Golden Export once again. We lived, laughed, loved! I topped the evening off by laughingly sending an ill-advised friend request on Facebook that IP and I then ended up betting on: add or ignore? I would say what’s on the line, but I confess that I forgot.

When we got to Silver Spring, the traffic lights were still out at East-West Highway and Colesville; we held our breaths during the walk home, hoping that we wouldn’t have to deal with another outage from the storms that had passed through earlier yesterday. Luckily enough our place was fine. And we walked away with a well-played evening in which we celebrated, reminisced and plotted. Then IP made me drink lots and lots of water.

I love playing hooky and getting drunk with my husband.

©2010 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

One Day is the story of Emma Morley and Dexter Mayhew, university students who link up the day after their graduation (July 15, 1988), and the story follows them through all subsequent July 15s up until 2007. A fanciful plot, all the vignettes from July 15 are definitely meant to take place on a movie set.

I picked it up because I had read that it was already speeding towards movie form, and that it was written as if that had been the intention all along: as a not-so aspiring writer at the moment (I’d rather have another job in hand instead), I wanted to see how a book so obviously meant for the big screen plays out. The answer is: take one part Forrest Gump (but set in the 80s, 90s and aughts), add in a dash of When Harry Met Sally, and then sprinkle with a bit of City of Angels and you’ve got the recipe for a book that will no doubt touch some people and a movie that will probably make millions at the box office. And that’s cool—if you can play the market that way, good on you.

I didn’t absolutely despise it, but the writing left me bored (I was seriously skimming toward the end), the story was pretty predictable and I saw the ending coming about two-thirds into the first chapter. I won’t spoil because I think this book will be a touchstone for many, but: I was only wrong about the means of the last third’s big drama. I was mildly amused by the ostentatiousness of the 90s, more than a little bit horrified at the parenting and relationship ineptitude of the 00s, and wasn’t moved much by the tail end of the 80s. Emma and Dexter left me cold, because neither was particularly ingratiating, and there was nothing about their friendship or courtship or buddy status (whatever you want to call it) that made me relate to them. I just kept on thinking, constantly: why doesn’t she move on, he’s a loser! And why does he like this harpy so much? Uh-oh, here comes the reversal of fortune, when he’s doing great and she’s not, then he isn’t and she is! Damn, a baby and engagement are getting in the way, who saw that coming!? I just felt like I was following a path with a view that was uninspiring, unsurprising and void of any heart and soul. It was like “hiking” through Curtis Park in Saline—seen it a million times before, it was novel the first time, but now it’s boring and mildly disturbing being so close to the cemetery, and anyway, it’s goddamn Saline, something I’ll never understand or want to understand, so let’s go home or to another, better park, shall we?

And that’s probably the thing: I don’t understand hanging around for decades, hoping upon hope that someone will notice you, and hoping that the both of you will come to the realization that you belong together, damn it, and that ain’t nothing gonna slow you down. It’s a puzzler for me because I can’t imagine carrying feelings for that long. They fizzle out, they die when you meet someone new, time and distance and attitudes make it all fade away slowly but surely. Nostalgia is one thing, but the inability to move on is another. And that’s how Emma and Dexter struck me: so fixated on that past and so utterly indefinable in terms other than each other, they remained, for me, the dark silhouettes you see on the cover. Without any discernible identities, I couldn’t connect; without the connection, I couldn’t care. And that’s all I feel about this novel, if that even qualifies as a feeling: I just don’t care.

Maybe you will, though.

Onto the book list.

Finished:

1) The Broken Teaglass by Emily Arsenault
2) The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles by Steven Pressfield
3) The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peal Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows
4) Shades of Grey: The Road to High Saffron by Jasper Fforde
5) Marie Antoinette: The Journey by Antonia Fraser
6) Unaccustomed Earth: Stories by Jhumpa Lahiri
7) Wishful Drinking by Carrie Fisher
8) Lavinia by Ursula K. Le Guin
9) Shakespeare’s Wife by Germaine Greer
10) The Case for Books: Past, Present, and Future by Robert Darnton
11) Under the Dome by Stephen King
12) Sex with Kings: 500 Years of Adultery, Power, Rivalry, and Revenge by Eleanor Herman
13) Sex with the Queen: 900 Years of Vile Kings, Virile Lovers, and Passionate Politics by Eleanor Herman
14) The World in Half by Cristina Henriquez
15) The Road by Cormac McCarthy
16) The Hidden by Tobias Hill
17) The Best American Short Stories 2009: Edited by Alice Sebold & Heidi Pitlor (Series Editor)
18) The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson (Translated by Reg Keeland)
19) The Forest of Hands and Teeth by Carrie Ryan
20) The Grift by Debra Ginsberg
21) The Help by Kathryn Stockett
22) Three Cups of Tea: One Man’s Mission to Promote Peace . . . One School at a Time by Greg Mortenson
23) About My Sisters by Debra Ginsberg
24) Blind Submission by Debra Ginsberg
25) The Prince of Mist by Carlos Ruiz Zafón (Translated by Lucia Graves)
26) Do Not Deny Me: Stories by Jean Thompson
27) Remarkable Creatures by Tracy Chevalier
28) Sum: Forty Tales from the Afterlives by David Eagleman
29) Burning Bright: Stories by Ron Rash
30) Mothers and Others: The Evolutionary Origins of Mutual Understanding by Sarah Blaffer Hrdy
31) One Day by David Nicholls

Re-read:

Empty

Currently Reading:

1) Reading the OED: One Man, One Year, 21,730 Pages by Ammon Shea

Waiting To Be Read (Already Purchased, Got as Gifts, Borrowed from My Husband or Otherwise Accessible without the Use of Funds, But Not an Assurance That I Will Read These Before I Buy More Books):

1) World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War by Max Brooks
2) Waiting: The True Confessions of a Waitress by Debra Ginsberg
3) Total Immersion by Allegra Goodman

*Apologies to Alanis Morissette for cribbing from her song, Incomplete.

©2010 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

I have my fingers crossed that the power will be restored to our building when I get home from work, but my hope is at low tide. I have a feeling we won’t get off so easily—I think it’ll be an unexpected trip to the grocery store to restock our fridge and freezer, along with struggling to cool down our apartment before our weekend visitor arrives on Saturday. Ah, good times.

I was in my gym’s basement when the power decided to go. There are no emergency lights—I found myself in an inky, pitch black room, and I have to be honest that the second thought in my head was zombies (yes, I’m insane, laugh away). The first thought was this: crap, I didn’t memorize where all the equipment was and I’m bound to run into some incline bench and it will hurt.

I staggered my way out like an aforementioned zombie, however, without incident. I did nearly miss a step on the way out, but quickly caught myself despite the torturing step ups and squats I’d just finished when the power failed. Making my way upstairs, I saw the wind blowing like crazy, the rain pouring with abandon, and the glum look on IP’s face reflected my own: we were screwed. It would be a hot night for us. Our power has gone out quite a few times this summer—we were actually pretty lucky during Snowpocalypse, but I guess whatever crappy infrastructure PEPCO has in our neighborhood must be very susceptible to heat and electric storms. I have to be quite honest when I say that I’m pretty sick of summer, with its 40+ ninety-degree days and power outages. Either cool down or be fall already. I know IP is waving me off from the fall thought for good reason (which I won’t divulge here), and I want the following month to go super-slow for him, but it can be Labor Day Weekend now for me. I’m ready.

First, though, I do have things to look forward to: a visit to Michigan, a weekend away for our first wedding anniversary, and IP’s birthday. Because I know that my mom stored away pieces of our wedding cake, and because I know from my sister that she did not store it correctly, I’ve contacted our baker to ask for a small replica of our wedding cake—if I’m forced to have a slice of it, then damn it, I want it fresh because that cake was delicious. IP barely got to taste it, so him having a chance to have a full slice sans the ice crystals and frosting you could chip your teeth on would be quite nice.

After the Michigan visit comes the anniversary getaway (so for those who thought IP and I were spending our anniversary with our parents—now you’re the ones who are insane). Then it’s IP’s birthday and I get to lavish him with ice cream cake, books and sex (I mean, what more could the guy ask for in a wife?). Amongst all that are a couple of visitors, and we sincerely hope that we have power for said visits.

So now, I’ll stop typing with my crossed fingers and make the long journey home (with dread rumbling in the pit of my stomach).

©2010 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

So yeah, I admit, I do target seat hoggers. Like I said in the comment, I’m not mean about it—I do give them a smile and say “Excuse me” quite politely. But I do relish some of the reactions I get because it just confirms for me that some people on Metro are rude and entitled. Not everyone is grumpy about it; they’ll happily get up and let me sit down. But others do that sighing, lifting of the bags, the eye rolls and the shaking heads. Like I’ve impinged upon their personal space and am now violating some sacrosanct social norm. And nine times out of 10, the person is not getting off at the next stop, though they do make it a point to hop to the next available empty seat and proceed to hog that one, too. Don’t worry, I don’t follow them. I just smile a bit when a new rider gets on and asks to sit down.

What baffled me, as I discussed the issue on another site, were the people who said this wasn’t rude, and that they did it routinely because a) they’re getting off at the next stop (to which I say, don’t worry, I don’t mind getting up after one stop—I honestly do expect it on Metro and no, you’re not bothering me when you need to get off the train); 2) are prone to motion sickness (it’s great you don’t want to throw up on me, but make a reasonable effort to ask people if they want the inside seat); and III) are pregnant (limited mobility the farther along you are, I suppose; like the above, making a reasonable effort to ask people if they want the inside seat is necessary). I’ve honestly never come across an outside seater that looked green or was heavily pregnant, so I can give them a pass. But the people who whined that they were getting off at the next stop need to suck it up and say “Excuse me” once in a while, too.

And that brings up the other issue: people who are standing and are just glaring at the person hogging the outside seat? Speak up! I’m not a naturally social or assertive person, but I’ll be damned if I’m just going to sit there and glare. I did it too often in my 20s to my own discomfort and anger to be concerned with another person’s momentary huffiness in my 30s. Life’s too short to will other people to behave by the sheer force of your mindpower—say something, for Christ’s sake! You speaking up might make the person realize that, yeah, the social norm they have to follow isn’t the one that says they’re special and get two seats to themselves. Maybe they’ll clean up their act if they’re ask to move enough times.

So, it goes both ways. It’s rude and people need to say something.

And you know, it probably didn’t rate a WaPo front page story. ;)

©2010 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

It will be brief, though. I know that I can’t detail entirely all the books that I’ve read since my last review so, like Inigo Montoya, I will summarize:

1. Three Cups of Tea: Good story, good cause, aggravating main player. Why does Greg Mortenson bug me so much? I feel as if his co-writer didn’t do the story service, too.
2. Blind Submission and About My Sisters: Both by Debra Ginsberg, her first novel and one of her memoirs, respectively. Blind Submission wasn’t the hardest book to figure out, but it was still a fun read about literary agents. About My Sisters was touching and very impressive; at first I thought I was in for something like How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents, California style, but this was better in terms of presenting the sisters as human as opposed to outrageous characters. Recommend for both.
3. The Prince of Mist: Carlo Ruiz Zafón’s first novel, which was a young adult read. You can see his atmospheric, haunting style emerging, but there was a major plot hole that drove me absolutely nuts. Recommend to see how the good start out, but beware: you might tear your hair out at the end.
4. Do Not Deny Me: a compilation of short stories by Jean Thompson. I don’t know what drew me toward this collection, but I have to say I was not impressed. I read it so long ago that I can’t even tell you why. I like stories about ordinary, everyday people who live in extraordinary ways just by being themselves, but this one left me cold.
5. Remarkable Creatures: Tracy Chevalier’s take on Mary Anning, the 19th century paleontologist who found the first ichthyosaur skeleton to be correctly identified and the first two plesiosaur skeletons, among other finds, and Elizabeth Philpot, her friend and collaborator. Great story, but like with Chevalier’s Girl with the Pearl Earring, the writing is slow. Would recommend.
6. Sum: a collection of forty short vignettes that speculate on what happens in the afterlife. IP hated this, but I found it oddly engaging and charming. Why? Not enough room to answer completely, but briefly: the New York Times review of this book is titled “Eternal Whimsy.” And that’s the best way to describe the book: it’s whimsical in that the afterlives are so focused on the absurdities of this life. The dead of Sum seem to take everything with them, which is unfortunate and ultimately pretty pessimistic. But it’s pessimistic in a nudge, nudge, wink, wink kind of way. In a way that makes this atheist—who doesn’t believe you do anything but blink out like a light when you die—chuckle. Ah, vain humanity. Of course you think everything is about you. Even this paragraph, right?
7. Burning Bright: another collection of short stories, this time by Ron Rash. Recommend? Hell yes! Rash is a talented writer who does take those ordinary people mentioned above and make them extraordinary. Read this!
8. Mothers and Others: Empathy, cooperative breeding, the ability to read a person through body language and facial expressions: all this and more constitutes Dr. Sarah Blaffer Hrdy’s Mothers and Others. A complex book that synthesizes a variety of disciplines to argue its thesis—that from lengthy childhoods springs the need to develop the trust required to allow others to care for a child; and from that springs the roots of humanity’s ability to understand one another. The book was a wonderful read, but it made me even more fretful about the idea of having children. We have no one around us to be allomothers! No one to engage the child constantly, with love being the reward instead of babysitter hourly rates! How could we possibly do it all on our own? Even one would be nigh impossible! Where do I get my tubes tied? IP snipped? Help! Ahem, kidding. Kind of.

That’s all, folks. I have two works that I’ll be reading in the next few weeks that won’t be placed on the book list, so it may be a while before you see another one of these. Keep reading!

Onto the book list.

Finished:

1) The Broken Teaglass by Emily Arsenault
2) The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles by Steven Pressfield
3) The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peal Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows
4) Shades of Grey: The Road to High Saffron by Jasper Fforde
5) Marie Antoinette: The Journey by Antonia Fraser
6) Unaccustomed Earth: Stories by Jhumpa Lahiri
7) Wishful Drinking by Carrie Fisher
8) Lavinia by Ursula K. Le Guin
9) Shakespeare’s Wife by Germaine Greer
10) The Case for Books: Past, Present, and Future by Robert Darnton
11) Under the Dome by Stephen King
12) Sex with Kings: 500 Years of Adultery, Power, Rivalry, and Revenge by Eleanor Herman
13) Sex with the Queen: 900 Years of Vile Kings, Virile Lovers, and Passionate Politics by Eleanor Herman
14) The World in Half by Cristina Henriquez
15) The Road by Cormac McCarthy
16) The Hidden by Tobias Hill
17) The Best American Short Stories 2009: Edited by Alice Sebold & Heidi Pitlor (Series Editor)
18) The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson (Translated by Reg Keeland)
19) The Forest of Hands and Teeth by Carrie Ryan
20) The Grift by Debra Ginsberg
21) The Help by Kathryn Stockett
22) Three Cups of Tea: One Man’s Mission to Promote Peace . . . One School at a Time by Greg Mortenson
23) About My Sisters by Debra Ginsberg
24) Blind Submission by Debra Ginsberg
25) The Prince of Mist by Carlos Ruiz Zafón (Translated by Lucia Graves)
26) Do Not Deny Me: Stories by Jean Thompson
27) Remarkable Creatures by Tracy Chevalier
28) Sum: Forty Tales from the Afterlives by David Eagleman
29) Burning Bright: Stories by Ron Rash
30) Mothers and Others: The Evolutionary Origins of Mutual Understanding by Sarah Blaffer Hrdy

Re-read:

Empty

Currently Reading:

1) Reading the OED: One Man, One Year, 21,730 Pages by Ammon Shea

Waiting To Be Read (Already Purchased, Got as Gifts, Borrowed from My Husband or Otherwise Accessible without the Use of Funds, But Not an Assurance That I Will Read These Before I Buy More Books):

1) World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War by Max Brooks
2) Waiting: The True Confessions of a Waitress by Debra Ginsberg
3) Total Immersion by Allegra Goodman
4) One Day by David Nicholls

©2010 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

Apologies for the lack of posts. The past week has seen me kick into sudden high gear for a job search—with some help from IP, I revamped my resume and my cover letter, then began hunting like mad for jobs in the D.C. area. Because of recent developments, we will not be leaving the area anytime soon, and I figure I need to do what I can to do something worthwhile if we’re going to hang out for a bit. Since Thursday, when all the revamping was said and done, I’ve applied to nine jobs. That’s not a ton, obviously, but given that I hadn’t even applied to nine jobs all year, I’m getting myself somewhere. I also ordered a navy blue suit from J. Crew so that I would have something in case I get to go on interviews (and also because I no longer have any nice suits). It felt good to do something, anything, and I haven’t let up since Thursday. I’ve sent in at least one application each workday since, and on Monday I shot four off into the ether. I know it’ll take time for any responses to come through given the economy, but I just have to try. Ever since my work trip, I’ve come to realize that I do want to work in a more active advocacy/outreach role, and I want to do it for a company that values this type of work. My current company does not (one reference I requested confirmed as much, but I’ve seen it with my own eyes).

The other thing is that IP and I are pretty stable financially, and me taking a lower paying job that really motivates me wouldn’t hit us hard. Hell, given the new Metro rates, a shorter commute and a job with Metro benefits would be a nice perk for me. My commute is pretty expensive these days. And if I got to do stuff that actually helped people instead of making sure that some federal employees didn’t have to push the print button on their computers? All the better.

(Sorry, feds. I know some of you work hard. But there are others who have a pension and come to work drunk. Just sayin’.)

IP and I are about a month away from our first anniversary. It’s hard to believe that it’s been a year since our wedding, but . . . well, time flies when you’re having fun. We’ve been debating as to how to celebrate, and a long weekend away is a start. We’re trying to find something in the relatively immediate area—venturing into the wilds of Maryland, Virginia or Pennsylvania is acceptable, but we’re not finding much. Are we just looking in the wrong places? We’d like to find a place where we can a) hike a bit, 2) have lots of sex, and III) swim outside. Any suggestions from the silent readership that may or may not read this blog? Any input would be appreciated because we’re kind of running short on time.

I’ve been doing quite a bit of reading lately and I am so behind on updating the book list—I’m not even sure I could put together a comprehensible post of short reviews. We shall see. But the good thing is that I’ve only read one book lately that I was meh on, and even then it wasn’t completely terrible. When I post the list, I should be at 30 or 31 books for the year; not too shabby considering I ended up with 26 last year. I could use the wedding excuse my poor reading last year, but let’s face it: I was lazy. Hopefully I’ll have a book list entry up for next Monday—I should take some time over the weekend to work on it for the benefit of, well, the book list. I hate seeing it so outdated!

The updates at Casa WordNerdia-IPia so far for July. While it’s bad for the blog, let’s hope there’s more for me to apply to out there, and that it leads to a new job where I’m not just cobbling together PDFs like an idiot and hitting print.

©2010 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.