
Last year I wrote a chapter on RA and AV for a friend's book. I barely remember writing it! Yesterday's mail brought a copy of the book and I am Chapter 4!!
Check THAT off the "Life To-Do" list!
Musings, ramblings, profundities and inanities, i.e. something for everyone.

Right now I'm in Jacksonville, FL on a riverside balcony with a glass of white wine and 80 degree weather. I'm wearing a tank and flipflops. The sun has set and there are ducks fishing for dinner under my balcony. I can see all the stars because, apparently, they do not believe in street lights here in JAX. Even the guys at the bar next door are being civilized.
This morning when I left Kansas City at 6 am, it was 19. Degrees. I was a cranky wanker.
If I weren't enjoying myself so much, I'd kick my own ass.
Goddammit how I hate the holidays. In words I cannot begin to type without getting my ass thrown off the MySpace, I hate the holidays. I would enter the dockworkers' blue language hall of fame if I could write everything I feel about the gdngmfcspfsebl holidays. Use your imagination.
I hate the crass commercialism. I hate the blatant cheer. I hate the excessive consumerism. I hate the societal expectations, the stress, the disillusionment, and the countless additions to my already bloated task list. I hate traveling at the holidays with all the stupid amateurs who bitch when airport security rips open a package so they can make sure it isn't a dirty bomb. I hate all the fattening food. I can't frickin' stand "Jingle Bell Rock" or "Frosty the Snowman".
I do like the boozing, though. I can get behind getting drunk. It makes me forget the hellaciousness of the holidays.
I like going to church. Yes, I mean it. I am not blaspheming. And don't worry, that lightning bolt won't come anywhere near you. It's meant for me. I get one moment of serenity at the holidays. It's either at a holiday service or it's late at night, in the dark, with only a couple of candles to light the house.
December. What's to flippin' like? It's cold, it's dark, it's gloomy. It's ridden with holidays that interrupt the regular flow of life. July. THERE'S a month to get behind.
Every damn positive memory I have of this holiday comes with an equally negative one.
If this holiday were outlawed I would not give a crap. Fuck the holidays. Fuck 'em hard.





At holiday gatherings, Friends of the Ballet cocktail parties and roller derbies, I am often asked what it is like to work in a library. "Huh huh, you must read all day" is the typical inane comment I hear. To which I reply, "Why no, I don't. I answer reference questions and suggest reading material to interested patrons." What I really want to say is, "Yep, right in one, psychic. But it beats chewing tobaccy, changing oil and yanking it to the Miss Quaker State calendar all day." What got done:
1. One column written and submitted.
2. Two assigned blog posts written and posted.
3. One play review written and uploaded.
4. One book review written and submitted.
5. Three books, read and annotated.
6. One good run
7. In-laws visited
8. Awards notebook updated with new annotations.
What DID NOT get done:
1. Sweeping
2. Grocery shopping
3. Phone call to parents
4. Plants watered
I'd call it even.