I went through an impromptu spring cleaning a few weekends ago, and fell into that same quandary I always do with my books.
What do you do with your books after you read them? And I’m not talking about the cream of the crop favorite books that you absolutely have to own or else. I’m talking about books like ‘Smilla’s Sense of Snow”, by Peter Hoeg.
I read that book a few years ago, and I enjoyed it; it was a good read and memorable, even though it fell into the category of ‘books that are murder mysteries that I never really get a handle on what is happening in them even though I enjoy them’. So, there was that. Would I read it again? Probably not. Would I lend it to someone and say, ‘You have to read this’ ? Again, probably not. But still! It was a good book! Maybe someday I’ll see the movie and it will make me want to read the book again! Who knows?
In this fashion, ‘Smilla’s Sense of Snow’ has followed me to three different apartments in two different states. Every time I try to clear through my bookshelves and get rid of some books, I pick it up, the above monologue goes through my head, and I end up keeping it. This is the case for many other books I own. The problem might be that I can’t decide what kind of book owner I want to be. There are two warring sides to me on this issue: On the one hand, I yearn to be Spartan and keep only what I need. I want uncluttered spaces and minimalism. On the other hand, it’s kind of nice to have a big ol’ bookshelf full of books in your house. Books are important to me, and I like the idea of having a respectable collection of them. Maybe I won’t need to re-read ‘Into Thin Air’ by Jon Krakauer a third time, but it’s nice to know that it’s there if I want to.
I have books my parents gave me, books that were gifts from dear friends, books I bought for college courses that I loved and courses that I hated. Even if I never read them again, they remind me of people and places and times in my life. It’s hard to get rid of them.
Also, I’ve realized that weighing the possibility that I will read a certain book again, leads me down a morbid path. How much time do I really have left in my life? Enough to read ‘Bonfire of the Vanities’ yet again? It’s one of my favorite books, but there are so many OTHER great books I have yet to read! Do I dare take the time to read that one over again? But if I don’t, how sad is it to think that I’ll never read it again? See, there’s no reason to think like that. It doesn’t lead anywhere good.
So at this point, even though it makes moving even less fun (although moving is terrible no matter what) I think I’ll stick to keeping my books, if that’s what my inner monologue encourages. There’s something very comforting about searching through a big friendly shelf of familiar books.
I had a learning experience a few weeks back. I managed to get invited to a dinner party at a new friend’s house. There were several girls there whom I have just begun hanging out with, and I was very excited to be meeting new people. While I had plenty of opportunities to socialize in Boston, my dance card has not been particularly full since moving to Raleigh.
I was invited to bring Charlie to this dinner party, which was also exciting, because he is the best dog ever. I met these girls at a dog park, so they’re all dog people, and dogs are fun to have around. Unfortunately, nobody else had brought their dog, to this dinner party; they’d all brought their husbands. So I was the weirdo who brought her dog. Also, the one resident dog of the house was a cute scrappy puppy that delighted in chasing Charlie around endlessly. Charlie is 7 years old, and as far as jumpy little puppies are concerned, he’s pretty much over them. Also he’s a big pansy. So I guess you could say he was a little stressed out when we arrived.
In any event, there I was, leaning against the counter in the kitchen enjoying a rustic Fall beer, buzzed from socializing and spinach dip, and telling my hosts how Charlie was pretty much the best dog ever and has never done anything wrong in his life, and I happen to look down, and Charlie is at my feet, balefully pooping on the kitchen floor.
It was one of those moments where you suddenly wonder if you are dreaming, or if what is happening before your eyes is real. Charlie really has never done anything like that before, but clearly the combination of new setting and frisky puppy had set him off. Plus, I guess he had to go.
I immediately had this lightning flash of what it must feel like to be a parent sometimes. Here is this tiny creature who is your ward. You love them to bits; you are responsible for keeping them out of trouble. Like it or not, their behavior is a reflection of you, and although they are close to you, they are not you, they are their own separate individual. This means that they are going to go off and do what they want a lot of the time, leaving you powerless to stop them and obligated to clean up the destruction (and poop) they leave in their wake. Yow.
In any event, it was a good thing I was in house full of dog people. Charlie’s kitchen shenanigans unleashed a flood of ‘oh don’t worry about it, one time MY dog pooped at this awkward time or in this horrible place’ stories, which were comforting, although my face remained red for awhile.
I remain on the fence about having children. Right now a dog is the perfect amount of love, trouble and energy for me. Plus I can curse in front of him.
Pants, you’ve been great. But I just feel like I am moving in a different directly lately. Actually, several different directions. I…I’ve outgrown you, pants. It hurts me to say this. But not as much as it hurts me to zip you. I’ve changed, pants. And the problem is, you haven’t.
When I called to him from the kitchen, “Sweety, if I make creamed kale, will you eat it?” He said “Sure,” without missing a beat.
No, but seriously. Then he totally ate some. To my credit, I thought it was delicious. To his credit, it was creamed kale.
Howard and I discussed Sarah Palin’s Facebook page in this week’s Perpetual Post!
When Sarah Palin resigned from her post as Governor of Alaska, there were many who claimed that she was making a huge mistake. They pointed out that it would be difficult for her to accomplish much of anything now that she was no longer an elected official. Sarah Palin went on to amass nearly 100,000 friends on Facebook. Who’s laughing now?
What Palin’s critics didn’t realize is that by joining the ranks of Facebook, she has discovered a revolutionary new way to communicate directly with her former constituents. Never mind those big government laws and regulations separating politicians from the people—with Facebook, Palin’s base can interface directly with her to note that they ‘Like’ things she has said. Not since the press conferences of former President Bush has a politician been so clearly surrounded by individuals who are free to express their feelings of ‘Like’.
You think your average Joe the Plumber is going to call, write a letter or send an email to his local representatives to enact change in the world? He doesn’t have time for anything like that! But were he on Facebook, which he isn’t, he could instead leave a simple comment on Palin’s wall (or send her a beer!) and know he’s made a real difference.
While the vast majority of Palin’s Facebook friends are her children, many others are not. Her eldest son Track, in particular, is heavily involved in her Facebook campaign, and has even founded his own group entitled ‘People Named Track’. While the group has only one member so far, it is assumed to be the beginning of a growing movement.
Palin takes her new role as Facebook member seriously, and is an active participant in the online social networking community, playing the game ‘Farmville’ and joining causes to ‘Raise Salmon Awareness” and support ‘Polar Fleece Appreciation’. Palin is also exploring the option of drilling in her Little Green Patch in an effort reduce our country’s dependence on foreign oil. Her Facebook profile offers the average Joe Sixpack rare insight into her inner life, just by checking out her ‘Where I’ve Been – And Places I Can See from My House’ application and viewing her results on the ‘What Kind of Gun are You Most Like’ quiz.
Palin’s tenure as Governor may have come to its natural end, but if the internet has anything to say about it, she’s not going anywhere! Anyone who can inspire over 5,000 strangers to click a little thumbs-up button which indicates their approval after reading a short missive entitled ‘Birthday Wishes to Margaret Thatcher’, is clearly an unstoppable political force! Sarah Palin, your journey has just begun.
I’m all over this week’s Perpetual Post! Catch this week’s discourse about the David Letterman scandal! Jillian and Howard’s sides can be found here.
_______________
I go to bed pretty early these days, and thus I lead an existence that is fairly sheltered from prime time and late night. But I’ve always had a soft spot for David Letterman, so when I heard that he had revealed the scandalous details of a plot to blackmail him during a broadcast of the Late Show, I was chagrined. My first response was, “Letterman! What the hell were you thinking?! ”
However, as my initial shock wore off and it became clear that Letterman’s televised confession was a brilliant, ballsy move that diffused the entire situation, my concern for his career turned to confusion. “Wait,” I thought. “Who the hell would try to blackmail David Letterman?!”
You see, even though I have a fondness for David Letterman, it’s not because he gives me the warm fuzzies. He’s a curmudgeon! He keeps his studio freezing cold and tells nasty jokes about celebrities and politicians and glares around a lot! He reminds me of my hometown of New York City. He’s brutal, he’s hilarious, you’re kind of scared of him, and he won’t be ignored.
In hindsight, it’s not much of a surprise that the blackmail attempt was a spectacular failure. Anyone who has watched more than ten minutes of the Late Show could have predicted as much—and it’s because Letterman doesn’t actually have that much to lose. He’s a celebrity, and as such, he wants to avoid scandal and negative attention as much as anyone else—but he’s not a politician. He doesn’t set himself up as a role model or a leader or an exemplary citizen. We don’t turn to him for guidance, and his career doesn’t hinge on holding the moral high ground—it hinges on being entertaining. And what’s more entertaining than a good old fashioned extortion scandal—especially one in which the audience gets to feel like they’ve got an insider perspective because the blackmail victim is confiding in them on national television?
The line between the politician and the celebrity has never been more blurred—and Letterman’s would-be extortionist miscalculated when he assumed that Letterman, like your average politician, would do anything to keep his reputation intact. If anything, Letterman’s reputation has improved thanks to this whole situation. Because he now comes across as the kind of grouch who will f— you UP if you come after him. Go Dave!
It feels pretty weird to be this sad about a magazine folding. I mean, I feel like I want to cry, like I’ve lost a loved one…except it’s a magazine.
But I love Gourmet. I’ve had a subscription for the last few years, and every month I fall in love with its incredibly rich, gorgeous photographs of food. I dive into scenes of sumptuous feasts and tables laden with exotic delicacies. I may not have made very many recipes that came from the pages of Gourmet, but the magazine was more than a cookbook to me, it was an inspiration. It showed me what it’s possible to create in the kitchen, and taught me to dream big.
Cooking light is my everyday workhorse recipe magazine, Cooks Illustrated is my scientific, anal-retentive how-to guide, and Gourmet was my fantasy escape cooking magazine. Maybe I will never buy a $35 box of imported organic sea-salt chocolates, but I sure as hell enjoyed reading about them. I’ll probably never make goat tacos, but a girl can dream.
I made fun of Gourmet magazine, yes, but it was out of love. Just one or two issues ago they did an alphabet themed magazine, with meals that all started with one letter. It was incredibly daring, and seemed all at once goofy and whimsical and yet serious. It was great fun.
I never would have thought this could happen to Gourmet. Tonight I poured some hollandaise sauce on the floor for my homey Ruth Reichel. I will miss your delicious magazine.
As per the usual with my new running schedule, my long run took me to the park this afternoon. I know that the South has a reputation for being full of people who are out of shape and lazy and hate to exercise, but every time I visit this park on my Sunday afternoon run, it is full of people of all shapes and sizes and ages frolicking with their kids, riding bikes, walking dogs, and generally being sickeningly wholesome and outdoorsy. So take that, popular misconceptions!
I Heard Tell 