Goddess In The City

2009-11-13T10:50:00.001-05:00

Only Cormac MacCarthy

In today's WSJ interview...

How does that ticking clock affect your work? Does it make you want to write more shorter pieces, or to cap things with a large, all-encompassing work?

CM: I'm not interested in writing short stories. Anything that doesn't take years of your life and drive you to suicide hardly seems worth doing.`

2009-04-07T15:06:00.003-04:00

I'm blogging about the bambino over at Brownstone Baby. Swing by and say hi!

2009-04-03T15:51:00.003-04:00

When Guilt Becomes Your Dirty Little Secret

Last Tuesday I went to a yoga class for the first time since MAS was born.

In some ways it felt really good--to be stretching and moving unencumbered by that sweet babyweight. In other ways it felt terrible: I've pretty much lost all upper body strength and my legs are stiffer than stiff.

And? Something weird happened.

As I was rousing from savasana and gathering my stuff together for the trek home this voice--clearly my own; I wasn't "hearing" voices--piped up inside my mind and said, "Oh, so are you finally ready to forgive yourself?"

The voice wasn't angry or heavy handed. Mostly just curious.

And me? I too was curious. I stood for a few seconds frozen in place, waiting to hear what my response was going to be. (Again, an inside response. I sure as shit wasn't going to be caught talking out loud to myself. I save that sort of craziness for home.)

I'm still waiting actually. So: what's it gonna be Minerva Jane? Curious minds wanna know.

2009-03-30T12:26:00.002-04:00

The Shooter Who Cried Wolf

Big shocker: there's been another shooting. A guy shot and killed eight people and wounded three others in a North Carolina nursing home this past weekend.

Am I going to be the one to say it? Come on. Haven't all you psychos out there realized that after Columbine and Virginia Tech a plain old shooting really just doesn't cut it any more. You've got to be a little more dramatic than this to get our attention.

Plus: has it occurred to anyone else that Bush and his ilk had it all wrong. We don't need to worry about terrorists: we're perfectly capable of offing ourselves, thank you very much.

2009-03-23T17:13:00.002-04:00

He's So Easy

When MAS was in the NICU Rodor tried hard to be extra nice to me.

Case in point:

Rod: Hey you smell so nice.
Me: Really? (Perplexed because I hadn't put perfume on in months...)
Rod: What is that? Soap?
Me: Yeah, sweetie. It's soap. Dove I think. (Despite the inanity, still feeling pretty special that he noticed my scent at all...)

2009-03-20T12:35:00.002-04:00

A lot has happened since my last post.

I had the baby at 28 weeks. He stayed in the NICU for 9.5 weeks.

I brought him home end of January and he's thriving.

How someone could be born at 7 months and have no real health consequences is beyond me, but there you go: life is weird.

I've of course taken a humongous blogging break but am poised to return.

Stay tuned!

2008-11-25T17:46:00.003-05:00

Postcard From The Antepartum Wing @ St Luke's Roosevelt

Well, I finally have a reason to start posting again but I wish I could say it was because of more joyful circumstances.

I was admitted to the hospital on Sunday for preterm labor at 27 and 4/7 weeks gestation. I'd had two contractions Sunday morning at about 5 and 8 am, some blood-tinged discharge and of course freaked out. (Who wouldn't after my first pregnancy miscarried in March at only 11 weeks?) A quick call to me OB--who, it turns out is on vacation this week so I spoke with another doctor covering for her--sent us scurrying over the Brooklyn Bridge, across and up town to the Upper West Side.

We got to the hospital at about 10. They took a urine sample, examined me and then put me on a fetal heart monitor and a toco to measure contractions. I was contracting about 6 to 12 minutes apart. They discovered a urinary tract infection, a yeast infection and that i was dehydrated.

In goes the IV with some sort of water glucose mix and we wait.

Two hours later they discover I'd gone from 1-3.5 cm dilation and within five minutes all the talk of me going home ceased and I was immediately admitted to labor & delivery. A course of antibiotics, some steroids shots to speed lung development, and an NSAID to halt contractions and we settled in for the night: Rod sleeping on a pretty crappy excuse of a pull out chair and me in the most uncomfortable bed I've ever slept in.

The next afternoon, after the contractions had stopped I was moved upstairs to this wing, the antepartum wing and told to sit tight because they were keeping me here until 34 weeks--a little over 6 weeks from today.

I panicked.

And then slept. Woke to more contractions--perhaps linked to more dehydration. Back downstairs for more monitoring and discovered that after two bags of fluids contractions stopped and my cervix hadn't dilated any more.

So now here I am back at antepartum. I'm not allowed to sit up in bed--they're literally hoping gravity will help my little boy stay in my body for at least one more day. Every day counts they say. Every day he's inside me is another day of development, another day of maturation, a little better chance that if he does come out he'll survive with less of a risk of cognitive, developmental or physical problems.

I wish I could say that i wasn't feeling sorry for myself and for my son and for my husband. I wish I could say that there wasn't some part of me that's sitting here wondering why this whole thing has been so difficult--the time it took us to get pregnant, the first miscarriage, then this. But there's a bigger part of me that's hopeful: he could make it. He could survive. And my next pregnancy? Nothing's to say it won't be uneventful.

So tonight I'm celebrating that I made it through Tuesday November 25. One more day, my friends, one more day.

Please pray for us to whichever god or gods or forces you may believe in.

2008-10-23T10:16:00.008-04:00

23 Weeks: Linea Negra & Some Belly Shots

So it happened. I got the linea negra--the dark line running from pubic bone to belly button... it only shows up in some women and apparently I'm one of them. The only part of this that freaks me out is the suggestion that it may not ever go away. And of course I'm double-freaked out at the thought that this may signal stretch marks galore down the line. I've been moisturizing like crazy with extra thick shea butter but apparently all the creams and lotions in the world won't make a difference: a woman's propensity to get strech marks during pregnancy is a hereditary thing.

Other pregnancy complaints: lower back pain and my monstrous breasts. (I mean really: they're fucking huge.)

On the plus and eternally grateful side I'm feeling the little Sprout move around constantly. Doesn't matter if I'm sitting down at my desk, standing in the subway car, doing yoga, walking--he's squirming left and right up and down. It's the coolest and strangest feeling in the entire world and makes me completely awestruck each time I feel it.

Anyway, let's change the subject and take a look at my burgeoning belly!

23 weeks today, folks.

I swear my stomach was flat back in May: that's all baby in there. My breasts don't look as huge as they do in real life because I'm wearing an uncomfortably tight and binding job bra for yoga... (Oh, and lounging on the bed in the background is Jasmine, the fluffiest cat ever.)

The painting behind me was a wedding gift from the talented Todd Wright. He's got tons of other painting for sale; if you're interested in seeing his work, let me know. (Cat is cat #2: Janus, the craziest cat ever.)

2008-10-07T15:49:00.004-04:00

Even The Grocery Stores Are Pretty In Brooklyn

This colorful flower display marks the entrance to our local Key Foods, at the corner of Atlantic & Clinton.

A new Trader Joe's moved in a block away but as far as I can tell it hasn't really affected Key Foods traffic yet.

Why?

1) Key Foods has better flowers. (I know. Weird, right?); and 2) Trader Joe's selection is woefully small despite the quality of the products being much higher. Examples? Well, Trader Joe's doesn't sell handy household items like, oh, say toilet paper and liquid plumber and sponges and Windex. And they only have one brand of cottage cheese! What's up with that?

So for now I'm grateful that I have two grocery stores within a block and half of my apartment building.

Viva la Key Foods y la Trader Joe's!

2008-10-06T09:17:00.009-04:00

Atlantic Antic

I love my hood. Yesterday Atlantic Avenue from the BQE to Atlantic Center was closed off for the annual Atlantic Antic festival. Tons of crafts, food, music and fun!

Some highlights of the day were: the best kettle corn I've ever tasted; yummy baklava; belly dancing; and the gogo dancers.

Gogo dancer outside of Last Exit bar

Rod embraces a mannequin.

Middle Eastern dancing outside of Sahardis.

2008-10-03T11:47:00.005-04:00

Baby X's First Portrait

Our 20-week anatomy scan went so well on Wednesday. Baby X was indeed doing step-aerobics: flailing and dancing about like a crazy man. No wonder I've felt like a punching bag the last few nights. And yes: I said man. We're having a boy! We got a fabulous 3D image of him that I've been staring at ever since.

Isn't he the most handsome fetus ever? He's got Rod's chin!

2008-10-01T10:08:00.004-04:00

Happy New Year!

Forgot to post this yesterday, so I figured I would today: to all those who celebrate the Jewish holidays, Happy New Year!

Last night we went out to Long Island to Rod's Mom's house for rosh hashanah. It was really nice but I ate so much I felt ill the rest of the evening. (BTW, the truly great thing about marrying someone from a different religious background is that you never have to divy up holidays....)

Funny, all day yesterday I didn't feel the baby move at all, then this morning he/she's been doing flips non-stop. Not sure what's going on in there: step-aerobics?

2008-09-25T12:40:00.004-04:00

Weight Watchers

You have to check out this site--Weight Watcher cards from the 1970s.

(Don't worry: I'm not dieting while I'm pregnant, I just think its hilarious and can't resist passing it along.)

Particularly check out the gruesome fish sauce and Mexican Shrimp-Orange Salad. Oh and the uber-icky melon mousse that looks like jellied cat vomit. (I have three cats: so I know of which I speak.)

On the pregnancy front: all goes well. The little bean continues to squirm once or twice a day and I'm finally showing a little. Now I actually feel pregnant: for weeks I just felt abnormally busty and strangely hungry all the time. Next week we go in for our 20 week scan to make sure everything's okay. (You know, like the babe has a fully functioning heart, two arms, two legs etc. No vestigial tails or anything like that.)

2008-09-19T10:44:00.005-04:00

But I Have TV

My father's an oncologist who specializes in prostate cancer and as such he's got more than a few stories about kooky patients.

Like this little exchange he told me about a while back:

Guy comes into the clinic. My Dad, as part of his routine, asks about the guy's personal life, since so many cancer patients suffer from depression. (And depression can affect the success of their treatments.)

The man is retired. He's not married. He has no real friends. He has no hobbies. He has no siblings and both of his parents are dead. He has no pets.

My dad--deeply worried--asks: "Don't you get lonely?"

The guy's astonished: "Lonely!" he says. "Why would I be lonely? I have TV."

2008-09-18T14:47:00.006-04:00

Wanna know why I love living in Brooklyn and rue the day I'll eventually have to move out to the burbs? Take a look at this photo I took--with my new swanky iphone no less--at the Fairway grocery store last weekend.

The guy's making fresh mozzarella right there at the counter. Can you believe that? I never saw anything like that at any of the grocery stores in Washington, DC, the DC suburbs, or central Virginia. Even San Francisco, folks. And it was good mozzarella, too.

(Mmmmm. Sorry: took a blogging break to grab a slice of that gorgeous cheese.)

Plus they've got a whole bar of pickled things made right there in the store--not just cucumbers but olives and green tomatoes (which I've been craving like mad lately.)

Why the cravings, you ask? Why, yes: I am pregnant again. Actually four and a half months along. I still can't believe that we got pregnant again so soon after the miscarriage, but there you go: and it seems just about fitting that the little munchkin's gonna get here right around Valentine's Day. Well, give or take a week, maybe two.... These things are notoriously hard to predict.

Aside from the cravings--and subsequent exuberant fondness for stores that provide satisfying answers to said cravings--I haven't really had any symptoms. No morning sickness. Not that much weight gain yet. Haven't felt any movement yet either. Slight indigestion but that may be because of my tendency to eat past satiety. Other than that I think I actually understand those women who don't realize they're pregnant until the fifth or sixth month. If I only got my period sporadically? I'd probably just think I'd put on a few pounds.... Well, of course there's the strange sensitivity to smells and the mysteriously expanding boobs. Seriously: I've gone up two cups sizes since June 1. It's kinda like going through puberty.

I kept the secret long after the first trimester out of superstition. There was a part of me that really believed that the first pregnancy ended last March because I'd revealed too much too soon. And I wasn't about to do it again this time. That in some way I'd failed to protect her/him. Now, I know that's totally unrealistic--most miscarriages are due to some chromosomal abnormality--but feelings have a funny way of ignoring reality. At least mine do.

I'm in the second trimester now. 18 weeks today, actually. And I'm eagerly awaiting that first flutter of movement. I was going to wait to blog about it until after the 20 week anatomy scan--after I knew everything was okay with his/her heart, limbs etc.

But I'm tired of feeling apprehensive. If something bad happens, I'll deal with it. In the meantime: I'm going to let myself feel happy, feel hopeful.

Even start to think of myself as Mommy.

Sounds strange, huh?

2008-09-11T11:56:00.005-04:00

I'm sitting in a coffee shop in the Village called Think--my usual hunt on City writing days. I'm surrounded by young NYU students engrossed in their laptops and books. Next to laptops lie cell phones and iPhones and blackberrries and half of the kids are wearing ear phones plugged into their computers.

And what do you think is playing at a slightly louder than comfortable level? Echoing almost in the coffee shop?

Bob Dylan's greatest hits.

And as I'm sitting here listening to his words I'm struck by how eerily right and accurate they are--even after all this time. Words from a generation before mine still speaking to the generation after mine.

Sometimes? Life is just too beautiful it breaks my heart.

2008-08-24T12:09:00.003-04:00

When You're Ready To Give Up

I'm a writer. And even have the MFA girl scout badge to prove it. ( Go American U.!)

I wrote one novel that's collecting metaphorical dust in my cyber-drawer and have another on deck that I've been casually "rethinking" over the last nine months.

Sure, I've gotten a couple of short stories published, but really, the number of unfinished shorts far outweighs the completed ones and I have to admit the general lack of response to my work coupled with the drive to earn money (go iphones!) and the distractions of life have all led me to shelf the writing addiction for the past year or so.

I've even stopped really thinking of myself as a writer. (I used to write, is how I described my former passion to someone several months ago.)

So imagine my surprise when I get an email this morning from a literary agent saying she'd read my short story in StorySouth and was wondering if I had representation and, if not, if I had any full length work either completed or in progress.

Now, I've been through the lit rounds before. (At least five agents were interested in taking a look at my first novel, The Jar-Born Sage, only to pass once they'd seen the whole manuscript.) So I have no illusions that this could very well turn out the same way. I mean, the newer manuscript--which most resembles the story the agent read--is still an embryo, not even a fetus.

But still. Someone read my work and liked it.

And that, folks, feels just peachy keen right now.

And is making me think that maybe I gave up too soon. I mean, writing may not have much of a pay-off but its a more productive hobby than TV-watching. And certainly less expensive and less dangerous than skiing.

And if agents really do read those lit mags and really do troll for new writers then maybe there's hope after all.

So: hi writer-self! Sorry I've been MIA for so long. We've got quite a bit to discuss in the next few years. I've seen some crazy shit...

2008-08-23T21:07:00.003-04:00

Saturday Afternoon In Manhattan

Every time I decide I'm sick of this city and can't take the noise/crowds/prices/fast pace I run across someone like this: so utterly out there it makes my heart sing.

I heart you Nueva York.

Can you imagine how hard he must have worked to train that cat to ride around on his head in the middle of 5th Avenue?

All I can say is my cats are sooo not earning their keep around here.

2008-08-22T11:44:00.005-04:00

Bacon Ice Cream?!

Sounds disgusting and yet strangely intriguing, doesn't it?

I saw this recipe at Jumbo Empanada and I'm dying to try it if only for the You ate what? factor. Alas, everything I own is NYC apartment-sized (read teensy weensy) and so even though I actually own a mini ice cream maker, I cannot fit it inside my freezer. Such a sacrifice living here, you know.

Please please, someone make this and tell me what it tastes like!

2008-08-21T15:06:00.003-04:00

The Life I'm Living

I realized yesterday that I'm actually living the life I always dreamed about. The only snag is the constant guilt I feel: I should be working harder, I should want to work harder, be more than what I am etc etc. If I could cabash the shoulds I'd actually be more content than I've ever been. Funny, how that old cliche proves true time and time again: I'm my own worst enemy.

So: here's to respecting joy where and how you find it.

2008-08-19T12:54:00.003-04:00

Red Horse Cafe In Park Slope

I'm always on the look for new wi-fi cafes. As a nomadic worker, I rotate my days through a list of places with a wi-fi connection, a desk, some inexpensive coffee and an outlet within a three subway stop radius. Lately I've been sticking to my usual round: Carroll Gardens tea lounge, naidres, starbucks, with an occassional two hour stint at Margaret Palka Bakes. But today? Today I ventured out into the Slope. Three stops along the F and its a whole new fucking world, folks. I'm here at the Red Horse Cafe where I had a chicken and grape salad on wheat and a cup of decaf. (Salad: eh. Next time I'll get a muffin or bagel. Decaf: well, it's decaf.) But the atmosphere is sweet. It's quiet. The ceiling fan circulates the AC quite nicely and they're playing Wilco softly in the background. Haven't spied any outlets yet, so once I'm down to 15% I'll motor over the vast Park Slope Tea Lounge. But until then, I'm a happy camper.

Oh, and right now they're featuring Francis Simeni's artwork. Check it out:

2008-08-14T09:22:00.002-04:00

Summerz

August in New York: streets empty of locals and fill with tourists. Days are hot and slow; evenings echo with the sound of cicadas--a sound that always, without fail, brings me back to the summer evenings in suburban DC of my childhood.

No pools here. No ripening gardens. No evening BBQs. Just strolling through the city's streets, gaping at the strangers who've come visiting.

2008-08-11T11:24:00.003-04:00

Family Farm

I've been down visiting my parents at their Charlottesville, Virginia farm this past weekend and I'm amazed at the number of changes in the five months since I've been here. They're in the process of converting their non-working farm to a sustainable organic working farmlet. They've now got about forty chickens, eighty guinea hen, three hives of bees, a couple fields of hay, a massive veggie garden and a new dog. Plans are in the works for goats come Spring. The next year: cows, maybe some sheep. All organic, grass-fed, humanely-raised and slaughtered.

I love visiting here for a couple of reasons: there's the obvious draw of my kooky but lovable parents; the lure of farm life with its growing plethora of produce and animals, both of which I love; and the peace of the country pace.

So different from both the life I'm living in Brooklyn and the world I grew up in. (My parents only left our comfortable suburban Maryland existence when I was in college., although their farming tendencies manifested early. We had huge gardens during my childhood, baked our own bread, made our own pasta, yogurt, & sausage and even brewed beer.)

Sometimes it feels like this big disconnect inside me: urban Jessie exists but beneath her exterior is this other potential self waiting for the right time and place to emerge.

I don't know if I could live here permanently, or farm on this scale, but I do have fantasies of buying a 2-3 acre house in Jersey or NY 45 minutes outside of The City and setting up a mini-farm: 4 chickens; a garden; a dog; my darling cats... And of course a gaggle of children.

Of course, I have an equally strong fantasy of my potential Brooklyn life: a three bedroom garden level apartment with an outdoor space in Carroll Gardens or Cobble Hill seems about right. With a gaggle of kids, of course. Or as many as I can squeeze into the two extra bedrooms....

I look at my life now and feel this weird sense of curiosity and excitement. I wonder where I'll be in ten years. Will I be living the urban fantasy or the mini-farm/suburban one?

It's anyone's guess, really. But if the next ten years are going to be anything like the last, its going to be one hell of a ride.

And luckily, I've got my seatbelt fastened and the radio turned way on up.

2008-08-04T14:59:00.001-04:00

Woes of Brooklyn Parking

Our car got towed on Saturday--for blocking a pedestrian walkway. In our defense: we saw no walkway! But $200 poorer and several hours later, we've retrieved the trusty Elantra from the scary Brooklyn Navy Yard impound lot.

All I can say: there are some angry people out there.

Strangely, though: the cops at the lot were nice. And seemed happy with their jobs. How odd.

2008-08-01T13:06:00.003-04:00

You Know What? Its Friggin' Hot

Its so hot here in Brooklyn that as I sit here in Margaret Palca Bakes having my decaf iced coffee my thighs are literally sticking to the seat--this despite the AC.

O August, I heart you.

2008-07-30T12:37:00.005-04:00

Facing Up To Facts Or I Unload Upon The Internet

I'm finally coming to grips with the fact that there are some parts of my past and my personality that I really need to come to grips with.

One of them being my bizarre social anxiety--which strikes at the weirdest times. Like my book group last night. A nice group of women: all well educated, well off and kind. (Never mind that each meeting feels more and more like a Woody Allen film circa Hannah & Her Sisters or some such. In a good way, really.) But I find myself struck silent at the most inopportune moments. When discussing books for god's sake!? I was the little kid with her nose in a book 24/7: under the covers; in the bathtub; at recess. I'm more comfortable talking about books than I am about anything on this planet. Well, maybe my love for yoga that developed in my early 30s. But you get the gist.

Other things I need to come to grips with? My relationship with my mother, that's for sure. But then that's the memoir I'll write in my 50s. She sometimes stumbles across this blog and I wouldn't want to create too much of a drama for myself. I've made a studious effort the past three years to sidestep any of those old Sicilian melodramas.

Also: my unending insecurity. That I'm not smart enough; cool enough; pretty enough; rich enough; neat enough; quirky enough; enough enough enough. Its fucking exhausting.

People who know me and Rod in real time get the impression that he's the super talkative one and I'm the quiet subdued one. In some senses this is true. Opposites attract and all that. But what people don't understand--because really, how could they?--is that my inside voice out-talks Rod any day of the week. How calming it was to meet someone whose outer self mirrored so closely my inner one. Somebody else's mind who did the same somersaults over and over.

I do what I can to get the inner chatterbox to chill out: sometimes yoga does it; most of the time reading does it; but there are times when she just babbles to herself about the most inane and hurtful things. Again: its exhausting.

The best solution I've come up with to deal with all of these issues is:

1) force myself into social situations that make me uncomfortable in the hopes that eventually I'll just get desensitized and get over it;

2) work hard and constantly learn new things to assuage those feelings of unworthiness;

and 3) work hard and constantly learn new things so that inner self has other things to talk about than her own self and shortcomings.

Well, that and I'm going back to al-anon. (Again: another story to be told in my golden years.)

2008-07-29T13:22:00.002-04:00

And yet more books

Two more titles for you:

Three Cups of Tea by David Oliver Relin. This is about Greg Mortensen's crusade to build schools for girls in rural Pakistan. I wasn't sure I was going to like this one but was immediately drawn in by Relin's writing style. Relin himself wasn't that familiar with Mortensen--hell, nobody was until well after 9/11--so the book reads as if he's discovering what the guy's been doing over there with little money and virtually no help at the same time that we're learning about him. I also really didn't know much about daily life in Pakistan. (News reports and CNN video clips aside.)

The Pickup by Nadine Gordimer. This novel follows the trajectory of Julie Sommers, a publicist in South Africa, as she falls in love with a young Arab immigrant and then marries him and follows him to his home country when he gets deported. The prose is written in this strange staccato cadence that mimics the way transliterated language sounds. Some people in my book group found it jarring and hated the book, but I actually enjoyed it.

That brings me to the end of June and the end of the list. (I only recently started keeping track of the books I've been reading.)

I just started Francine Prose's book Sicilian Odyssey so I'll keep you posted on that as I progress.

2008-07-28T11:16:00.004-04:00

Obsessively Reading

I've always been an obsessive reader--of classics, of trash, of magazines, of the back of cereal boxes, of mailing circulars--but lately that obsessiveness has ratcheted up a degree. I don't know know why really except that I view reading the way a lot of people view TV: a way to relax after work, to unwind before bed. And I was pretty distraught there for a while, so naturally I turned to reading only to discover that hey--I fucking love books. The stress disappeared but the late nights engrossed in a book did not.

Sometime around the middle of last month I noticed that I've been averaging about a book a week for some time now. Some of them I forget as soon as I finish but others stick in my brain for a bit longer.

I figured I'd start listing the books I've been reading here because, well, I got out the habit of blogging and was startled to realize this morning that I really miss it. (I haven't abandoned reading blogs, mind you: there are still a half dozen or so I visit daily.) But I miss the feeling that my days are being chronicled somehow and the everything isn't just passing by in one vague blur.

So hopefully this will jump start things around here:

I just finished Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen. I tore through this one in just three days. I enjoyed reading about circus life in the 30s and thought her writing style was clear, hypnotic and definitely easy. She tells a good tale and has some juicy classics: abusive husband/villain; charming educated young male protagonist who adores animals; lovable freak (ie Wordsworth-reading dwarf, etc); quirky elephant; lovely woman caught in a loveless marriage aching for our protagonist to save her. I didn't care so much for the stories frame, though. We meet Jacob when he's either 90 or 93 (he can't remember which) and the story is told through the form of memories and dreams. I also didn't care for the much too-neat ending nor its happily ever after flavor. Still, a good quick read. Not quite junk food, but only a step or two above.

Last week was all about Stones from the river by Ursula Hegi. I was actually completely surprised by how much I enjoyed this one. (It was an Oprah's Book Club selection, so I have to admit I was already prepared for it to skew on the trashy side.) But it was insightful. Well told. And had moments of truly beautiful prose. The novel traces the life of a German female dwarf named Trudi from her birth right after World War I to the mid 1950s. In doing so Hegi offers a well-drawn history of the German mindset during the between-the-war years. The portrait of the Nazi rise to power in this small town outside Dusseldorf was one of the best I've read in the genre: how an integrated community could turn against itself, turning in their Jewish neighbors or, as in the case of Trudi, hiding them at great personal risk. The novel also embraces the idea of otherness and prejudice: dwarf versus able-bodied; effeminate versus heterosexual; Jewish versus German etc. etc. I'm going to take a look at some of her other books now, I think.

Before that I read Caravaggio by Francine Prose. This was a short bio--maybe 150pages tops--in a series penned by well-know authors. I was entranced by the tales of this irreverent and apparently not too ethical 15th century painter. He was famous for using prostitutes and beggars as models for his paintings of famous biblical scenes: the martyrdom of Peter; the calling of the Apostle Mathew; the death of Saint Lucy. To my modern eyes the paintings int he insert didn't seem all that racy but after Prose put them in the proper context I was pretty impressed with the man's audacity. the Francine Prose is a fantastic writer and when she turns her eye to these small nonfiction projects her brilliance shines through. I've since picked up her travel book on Sicily; that's next on the list.

Albert Camus' The Fall. I didn't actually finish this one because the translation was so crappy. (One of my mother's circa 1960s college texts I fished out of my bookcase.) It was interesting, though: unreliable French narrator tells a fellow Frenchman his life story over the course of a couple of nights at a bar in Amsterdam. I'm going to go back to it as soon as I'm done with the book on Sicily.

There's three more on the list (since I've been keeping track via a handy Excel doc) but I'll save those for tomorrow.

On a side note, I'm a big fan of the spreadsheet. A well-designed spreadsheet is a thing of beauty I tell you. More data is always a good thing.

2008-07-15T12:30:00.000-04:00

Mural in The Castro, SF

2008-07-01T08:49:00.003-04:00

Hoboken Cats Have It Rough

I saw this fashionably-clad feline in the window of a Hoboken real estate office. Now, I love my cats and spend a lot of time coiffing their luxurious fur, but even I draw the line at dressing my cat in the heat of summer.

2008-06-17T15:46:00.004-04:00

Static

I've decided that just about all my problems can be summarized with one sentence: I over-think things. Its like my life is a novel and I'm constantly deconstructing the main character's (me!) motivations and flaws and actions. It's fucking exhausting, to be honest.

I'm making an effort to stop doing that so much, but the process has just underlined just how often I fall into the habit.

My goal for the summer: to just jump right in whenever and however I can.

Vive!

2008-06-10T09:48:00.013-04:00

Memorial Day Along The Mendocino Coast

So we spent Memorial Day at the Mar Vista Cottages in Anchor Bay, CA just 50 miles south of Mendocino. It was fantastic! We rented a two bedroom cottage with our friends TheKrayberts. Tom and Renata, the owners of Mar Vista, have created a lovely sustainable and organic garden that visitors are free to graze for their evening meals. We harvested some wonderful lettuces, kale, chard and a plethory of spices. The nicest touch was the basket of fresh eggs on our doorstep each morning--still warm from laying!

Other highlights from the weekend include a visit to the Point Arena Lamb and Pork BBQ for a little local flavor, a morning spent horseback riding on the beach, the Gualala farmer's market, a visit to the Point Arena Lighthouse, an afternoon hiking through redwood forests to a waterfall and hanging out by Rod and Mark's overzealous campfire.

I posted some pictures to my flickr page, but here are some highlights:

View from our cottage at Mar Vista.

Guala Farmer's Market

TheKrayberts harvest greens for dinner at Mar Vista.

Rod harvesting herbs for dinner at Mar Vista.

Waterfall along our 6 mile hike.

Horseback riding on the beach.

View from Point Arena Lighthouse.

Point Arena locals at Lamb & Pork BBQ.

2008-06-04T10:34:00.003-04:00

One Thing I Didn't Miss

I forgot how friggin loud New York is. Between the sirens and the traffic and the way even inside cafes people just seem to talk so loudly, there's a constant hum the city generates.

But I'm easy: just sippin' my decaf coffee, soaking in the city's white noise.

Still jet-lagged though. The red eye blows.

2008-06-03T16:04:00.005-04:00

The Only Drawback to San Francisco Is That Its Hard To Leave

Me @ the Point Arena Lighthouse.

We just got back from spending close to two weeks in San Francisco--staying with our friends Mark and Kathleen, and my sister Gabi and Amanda, visiting with my friend Liz and generally enjoying life.

I feel so relaxed that even the 85 degree humid Brooklyn air doesn't phaze me.

Its going to take me a while to unpack, fix photos, and process all I experienced and learned while we were on the Left Coast but in the meantime I wanted to air some truths I stumbled across.

I've been telling everyone--and blogging--since the week after the miscarriage that I was okay. That everything was fine and I wasn't going to dwell on the negative. I was just going to pick myself up and move on.

Tra-la-la-la-la.

God. What a fucking lie.

I've been a mess for three months straight. I fell into an unrelenting negative thought pattern--a rut. A state of such deep depression even I couldn't really see it or what it was doing to my family--by which I mean Rod.

I stopped calling or emailing my friends. I stopped blogging. I stopped going out. And the whole while I kept repeating to myself, to Rod, to anyone who happened to ask, "Oh no. I'm happy! So happy! I mean, I'm alive and nothing all that bad happened to me and at least I know can GET pregnant, I mean that's good, right?" (And this despite Rod's wide-eyed exclamation: Huh? You are so NOT fine.") And the crying? A fluke! Something in my eye!

I don't know what it was. Certainly the hormonal fallout--plummeting hcg levels then rushes of estrogen, progesterone, lutenizing hormone.

But there was also the sense of failure. My body had failed: hadn't managed to hold onto something that was so precious to me. I was angry at it: and in the weeks following the miscarriage I punished it by dieting and exercising as much as I could. You are worthless, I told it.

These two weeks in SF, though, I took it easy. I slept. I ate. I walked slowly. (I hiked too, but I didn't drive myself the way I normally do...)

Sometimes all it takes is the slightest nudge to shift everything back into perspective.

It wasn't my body's fault that pregnancy ended. In fact, the entire concept of fault missed the point. You plant ten seeds in the garden and only a fraction of them will make it to seedlings; even fewer to full fledged plants. There's no meaning; no fault. It just is.

So I return to Brooklyn more at ease. Less haunted.

Not that I'm completely back to my normal self. But at least now I can see how much work I need to do and how far I'd sunk. The cure? Healthy eating. Appropriate exercise. Constant social contact. A lot of forgiveness. And the joy of summer blossoming before me.

2008-05-12T16:00:00.004-04:00

Like Someone Famous

Today a Starbucks attendant asked me if anyone had ever told me I looked like someone famous.

No, I said. And then out of curiosity, asked: Who do I look like?

Oh, I don't know, he said. Just someone who's famous. Like a celebrity.

And honestly? I was flattered, even though it was just about the vaguest compliment I've ever gotten.

2008-05-02T15:40:00.001-04:00

Ah. Spring Comes To Brooklyn Once Again.

2008-04-28T11:37:00.004-04:00

Fertility Yoga

I went to a yoga for fertility workshop at Om Yoga this weekend called Receptive Nest. The focus was on restorative asanas like supported bound goddess and supported child's pose.

It was heavenly. I felt so rejuvenated and whole since I walked out those those on Saturday afternoon even today's rainstorm can't dampen my mood.

2008-04-16T09:19:00.003-04:00

Choosing Happiness
I got my period over the weekend--the first cycle since the miscarriage and for some reason that roller coaster of hormones combined with the generally overcast and cool weekend left me feeling more down and angry than I've felt since before I found out I was pregnant.

I felt deflated and so low I could barely get myself to do anything all day Saturday and Sunday except lounge on my sofa, watch reruns of Sopranos episodes, and monitor the unraveling of the events down at the YFZ Ranch in Western Texas. (Those who know me well know just how fascinated with religious cults... Don't worry I'll be posting all about that fiasco sometime in the next few weeks. )

On Monday, though, I emerged from my cave and looked around at suddenly blooming Brooklyn and thought to myself: What are you doing? Life is happening all around you and here you are, choosing to dwell on the things that make you sad, the things that didn't work out, the glass half empty. And so I decided that just for that one day I'd make a conscious effort not to focus on the negative but to choose--as if I were selecting wheat over white bread--the healthier option. And what do you know? By that evening I actually started to feel better, brighter, more enthusiastic about things. Now I'm not talking a 180 degree turn, but just a nudge.

Because things are good: I'm healthy. My husband is healthy. I make a good living doing what I always wanted to do: write. (Granted, I never really envisioned copywriting, but at least I'm not stuck in a cubicle doing something I hate.) And Spring is here. Glorious Spring and with it that feeling of escape, of freedom, of the possibility of renewal.

I see good things. Good things everywhere. Because that's what I choose to see...

2008-04-14T10:01:00.002-04:00

Lazy Weekends

Neither of us have wanted to go out and do much the last few weeks. Aside from work obligations and the occasional dinner, we've been spending our weekends in our apartment watching movies on the sofa punctuated with a yoga class or trip to the gym. That cocoon has been like a salve, but I'm beginning to feel just the tiniest bit antsy, ready to go back out into the world, tired of sleeping and drifting.

Just in time for the truly warm weather... Then I'll venture out of my cave...

But for now, I'm grateful I have the husband I have grateful to have the life I have. Sometimes you don't even realize how precious certain people are to you until something terrible happens and bam--in an instant you do.

2008-04-10T11:30:00.003-04:00

My Cat Knows How To Turn Off The Light

I'm not kidding.

We have two of these bedside lamps that turn off and on by touch.

So now that Janus has figured that out, whenever we're lying in bed reading and not paying attention to him he saunters over to the lamp and presses his nose against the rim.

On/off/on/off.

So annoying.

2008-04-07T09:47:00.003-04:00

Al Di La

This past Saturday we finally made it over to the famous Al Di La restaurant in Park Slope. First off: yes, it was as good as they say. And no: the wait isn’t really as terrible as everyone makes out. We got there at bout 6:30 and put our name down, only to be told chances were we wouldn’t be seated until 9 or so. That was way too late, of course. (We were with our friends and their 4-month old baby so the idea of lingering that long was absurd, but we decided to go to their adjacent wine bar for a drink before trudging back out into The Slope in search for a new place. In the wine bar, we were told there was only a 45 min wait for their 4+ tables near the bar, so we put our names down there, got ourselves a drink and then discovered that our name was up on the upstairs list already. Seems tons of people put their names down early in the evening then either don’t show up to claim their tables, and, as we discovered later that night, the maitre d’ tells everyone to come back at 9. Guess that ensures a second seating. Everything was absolutely delicious, but some my two faves were the beet & goat cheese raviolo and the taglatelle with meat ragu. Yummy! Apparently their other signature dish is the tripe, but I’m really not that adventurous.

All in all a fabulous night. Sometimes all the hype really is justified.

2008-04-04T13:25:00.003-04:00

12-year Old Stripper Shocks Texas

The oddest part of this story is the name of the woman in whose home the young runaway sought refuge: Demonica Abron.

Note to self: don't trust anyone with the words demon or satan in his or her name...

2008-04-04T11:55:00.005-04:00

About Grieving

The funny thing about grief is the way, for days at a time, it seems to have disappeared. You feel happy and contented and think to yourself--"Well, you know this isn't so bad. I'll get over this, I know it..." And then, in a moment when you least expect it there it is, pressing in on you like a fat cat perched on you chest. Which is how I discovered myself crying during yoga last night. I tried to hide it--brushed away the tears and closed my eyes to concentrate on my breath--but there it was. And then a few seconds later, it was gone again. Just like that.

The worst part about all of this, though, is figuring out how to deal with other people. The people who want and seem to need to help me. Good, kind people whom I love and respect... In the process of all of this I think I've discovered that the world is divided into two basic groups of people: those who are comfortable with grief and those who feel nervous and unsettled in its presence.

Those who are comfortable with grief feel no need to offer me empty platitudes. They just acknowledge that something terrible has happened, let me know they're there for me and then step back. Let me come to them when and if I want.

Those who feel unsettled by grief--and until January 1, 2004 I was one of them; but that's another story altogether--seem to feel the need to fill the empty space with empty assurances. They want to do or say something that will make me feel better...

They say its so common, this miscarriage thing.

But just because its common doesn't mean it hurts any less.

They say there's only like a 25% chance that I'll have another one.

But there was only a 5% chance that I'd miscarry after seeing the heartbeat and look where that statistic brought me.

They say everything happens for a reason.

But just because there's a reason doesn't mean it hurts any less.

The best thing you can do with grief is acknowledge its presence and then let it pace the room like the angry beast it is. Eventually it will lie down. Eventually it will get tired of you and slink off to its own corner to lick its paws. Let it wear itself out because if you take the opposite approach and try to silence it and cover it up and tame it with logic you'll only make it angrier. More aggressive.

Grief requires a terrible sort of patience.

2008-04-02T08:24:00.006-04:00

My Cat Loves Coffee

I'm sitting here drinking my coffee and my cat Janus keeps sticking his head into my cup to pilfer a sip. And when I spilled a little on the sofa? He rubbed his head allover the spot. Weirdo.

2008-03-31T12:25:00.005-04:00

What I'm Left With

So things have steadily gotten better since my last post. My body has completely healed and my emotions are no longer on that cathartic roller coaster they were on in the days that followed the miscarriage. And this past weekend? I caught myself feeling happy more often than not. (Now mind you, I'm still finding myself bawling at commercials and TV shows and the general uncertainty of life but those tears dry quickly and don't seem to impede my general well-being.... Like a flash rainstorm in early summer.)

But I've done a lot of soul searching over the last 21 days and I've discovered that there are four things I absolutely believe. They include:

1. There is no God.
2. Happiness is a choice we make and entirely independent of the actual circumstances of our lives.
3. The energy--positive or negative--that we put out into this world always gets returned to us...
4. What we believe about ourselves is infinitely more important than what's actually true.

I know it may sound strange--especially to those of you who believe in one of the Big Three religions (Islam; Christianity; Judaism)--but these four beliefs give me an enormous amount of comfort and joy...

And now? Just you watch. This Spring I''ll be a phoenix rising out of her own ashes. This new Minerva Jane will be stronger and more beautiful than she ever was before.

2008-03-12T17:18:00.005-04:00

Darkness

I had a miscarriage late Monday night.

I was 12 weeks pregnant.

I don't really have any words for the pain I'm feeling right now. Except that its overwhelming.

2008-03-03T13:57:00.003-05:00

Two More Weeks Until My First Trimester Is Over!

I'll be psyched. Especially since I'll coast into the second tri--and leaving this horrible exhaustion behind--just as Spring arrives in Brooklyn. And those of you who know me know that Spring and Summer means long walks, lots of picture taking and general outdoorsy fun!

2008-02-26T19:23:00.002-05:00

I'm Totally Lurving Kimya Dawson

I'm sure its just the hormones but every time I listen to this I cry. (That and State Farm commercials always seem to do me in....)

Check this out:

2008-02-22T11:18:00.003-05:00

I Love Snow, Even In Brooklyn...

...even though its messy and a day after a city snowfall the streets are filled with gray and brown slush that gets everywhere.

I think it goes back to being a kid, spending my evening glued to the TV screen waiting to hear if school was going to be canceled and I'd get to spend an entire day lost in the cold white freedom of a snowfall.

And the hot chocolate my Mom would make when we returned from snowman-making didn't hurt either.....

2008-02-21T09:01:00.004-05:00

New Publication!

StorySouth was so kind as to publish my newest short story, “Don’t You Want Something New?”

Check it out!

2008-02-19T13:06:00.003-05:00

There’s News But You’re Gonna Have To Read The Whole Blogpost To Get It

Long time no blog, huh? And boy have I missed it. I guess I just put out so much effort in the Fall with the NaNoWrMo and NaBloWriMo—in which I wrote a 200-page novel and posted daily between November 1 and December 1—that by the time December rolled around I was kaput.

And then the Christmas and Chanukah seasons arrived—yes! in a mixed marriage you get twice the number of holidays! twice the number of presents! twice the food!—and I hibernated and rested and lost any semblance of the rhythm I’d established.

But I wasn’t too hard on myself because I needed to rest. Truth was, I’d been brutal on myself all year. So angry that I couldn’t get pregnant the very first month I’d tried. And the more months that ticked by the angrier I got at my body. Why won’t you do what I want? I demanded it. What was wrong with me? Why wasn’t this happening for us?

So a rest was in order. And even more in order was the calm I felt as I languished at my parents’ Virginia farm: snoozing in front of the fireplace; going on long brisk walks; cooking with my husband and sister; reading novels into the night; drinking raspberry tea constantly.

Why raspberry tea? Because its supposed to help lengthen luteal phase—the time between ovulation and your period. I’d become convinced that my woefully short phase was the reason why I still hadn’t conceived after 11 months of trying.

You see, even though I was calm, I hadn’t given up on the idea of a child. We had started seeing a reproductive endocrinologist in late November who was going to be doing further tests on me after I got my period in January. (This was in addition to the acupuncturist I’d been seeing since the end of September.) So we had a plan, which made me feel better. But still: I ached so much for a child. And in the back of my mind there was still a part of me that felt like this all was some sort of cosmic payback for something I’d done wrong somewhere along the line.

What can I say? I live my life like I’m an opera star.

So: beginning of January. We celebrated the New Year, and then my 35th Birthday (at a wonderful West Village Sushi place) and we started to coast down the long stretch of January.

Meanwhile I waited for my period. Days passed. Then a week. And then one Saturday morning I saw spotting and was devastated. Even though I had been telling myself that it wouldn’t happen again this month and there was no reason to get my hopes up, there was a part of me that was frantically crossing her fingers and blowing on eyelashes and knocking on wood. (I’m not religious but strangely superstitious.)

And then a few more days passed but my period didn’t fully arrive. One evening when Rod made us a pre-dinner snack of cheese and sopressata; the soppressata tasted so foul I barely made it to the trashcan where I spit it out. And that, of course, was a tip off. The rest of the week I watched myself carefully. I did feel nauseated from time to time. My breasts did hurt a little.

We waited a full seven days after that first bit of spotting before I took the test and the entire five minutes while we waited for the results I berated myself for hoping so much. Better not to be attached to the outcome, I reminded myself.

Which was such bullshit because when I finally saw that Plus sign the excited dance I did around the living room shrieking “Yay Yay Yay! I knew it I knew it!” reeked of attachment.

But there you go: this Fall a Little MinervaJane or MinervaJohn will arrive hopefully unscathed and spectacularly healthy.

(Yay!)

2008-01-30T10:16:00.001-05:00

Yes, I've Been Silent

But I needed a break. Stay tuned.

2008-01-13T13:47:00.000-05:00

Another Reason Why Brooklyn Rocks

Overheard while walking along Smith Street last night:

40 something woman: See? That's why you have to start listening to Led Zeppelin.

8 or 9 year old daughter: But I don't like him.

Woman: If you listen to it a little more you will. Besides, it's an important cultural reference.

2007-12-12T10:52:00.000-05:00

Bad Mommies

I'm once again at the tea lounge and horrified at the parenting skills of some of the mommies in my neighborhood. (This the same group of bitchy women I've encountered before: more interested in talking about themselves and which chichi private school they're going to enroll their kids in than attending to the children's needs.

Just reinforces my belief that not everyone who can breed should.

2007-12-11T11:03:00.001-05:00

When Re-visioning Really Means Re-seeing
I have a long history of misunderstanding song lyrics. For most of my childhood I thought Johnny Rivers' song "Secret Agent Man" was actually "Secret Asian Man." (Which I thought was a little weird, but since it was written in the pre-politically correct 60s, not impossible.) And now I find out that the tune "Red Hot Love" is actually "Radar Love?" Well, that just changes everything, doesn't it?

The good part is that I'm continually learning to look at things in a new light--to re-see things if you will.

Take this Diego Rivera poster we have hanging in our living room.

Now for the longest time I've seen this picture in the following way: a woman kneels to hoist a basket of flowers onto her back. I thought about how labor can intersect with beauty and I thought about how burdens, while back-breaking, can also contain a bit of the sublime. But I always thought of her alone, shouldering that load with something akin to piety.

And then one afternoon several months ago I was staring at that print while thinking about other things and in a split second everything changed. I saw that the feet beside her could not possibly be her own. And then I noticed two hands on the basket's rim and at the top of the bushel of flowers a white cap peaked out t me.

There was someone behind her.

Someone was helping her lift that basket onto her back.

She wasn't alone at all.

I've discovered that there's a powerful lesson in this for me.

How often I've fallen into that trap in my life: thinking I was alone only to look around and realize that I was not, that there was something or someone there helping me lift my basket. (Our burdens are ours alone to carry, but a little lift here and again makes more difference than I ever thought possible.)

2007-12-03T14:39:00.000-05:00

The Final Frontier

You all know I’m planning our 10 year anniversary trip.

So I’m looking at this site gapadventures.com that has wonderful hiking and kayaking adventures. You can search for adventures in areas you’d like to visit: Africa; Central America; South America; Asia.

I scroll through the list and what’s the last?

Space.

But apparently no trips have been planned yet.

Shit.

2007-11-30T11:22:00.000-05:00

I'm A Goddamn Rock Star: NaNoWriMo Winner!

So I did it. I finished the National Novel Writing Month challenge and wrote an entire novel in 30 days.

The Book of Strangers topped out at 51, 791 or 191 pages. More of a novella really. Some of it is pretty maudlin and it'll probably take me close to 6 months to revise it and expand it into a draft worth of sending out, but by god I'm so proud of myself I can't believe it.

And of course I'm behind in ALL my other work and going into the holiday season at that but I've learned a tremendous amount about myself and my writing process during this journey, namely:

1) I can quite easily churn out 6 pages a day in 1-1.5 hours sessions;
2) I have spent way too much time over thinking things lo these past 34 (almost 35) years;
3) I'm a much easier person to be around when I'm actively writing.

2007-11-29T08:45:00.000-05:00

Depression = Sadness? Maybe not....

So I was in the middle of reading a NYTimes article on suicide among the elderly when I came across the most fantastic word in relation to a discussion on depression.

The writer (Jane Brody) notes that most people think depression is about being sad when its really about anhedonia--the inability to enjoy life.

Depressed people aren't necessarily sad, they’re irritable. Cranky. Hard to get along with.

Now, as someone who has deal with depression more than she'd like to admit, I have to say I've never heard a more accurate depiction. It is true: at my worst I felt so uncomfortable in my skin and so incapable of enjoying anything that I pushed everyone away.

And I've seen other people in my life do that same thing. It's no easier being on the other end of it.

Luckily for me I seem to have found some sort of formula: working out, yoga, eating well, sleeping well. And acupuncture, actually. That's been a godsend for anxiety and stress relief.

At any rate, take a look at Ms. Brody's article. And when you're done, call your Grandpa or Dad. See how he's doing.

2007-11-28T21:33:00.001-05:00

2 Years of Blogging...

Today is my two year blog anniversary. That's right: it all started November 28, 2005.

Plus, I won a blog award from the lovely Martha.

You're supposed to list the three qualities you think are important for good quality writing, so here goes:

1) an excellent grasp of grammar and an extensive vocabulary
2) an firm grasp of dramatic timing
3) insight into human behavior

And here are my five choices:

Boho Girl
Superhero Designs
Schmoopy
Wannabe Hippy
Jen Grey

2007-11-27T16:38:00.000-05:00

And Nobody Said A Word

Today, in NYSC I overheard one trainer say to another, while pointing at his uber-plastic thirtysomething female client:

"Isn't she great? I made her from a kit."

2007-11-26T17:13:00.000-05:00

Has NY Turned Me Into A Meanie?

So our friend Mark observed while he was here that the energy (no he didn't really use that word, that's my edit) is much more hostile here on the East Coast than it is in California. He's right, of course.

But it got me to thinking today about the ways in which that energy has seeped into me, ways in which I might have absorbed this hostile culture. And you know that I think sometimes I am mean. Maybe not directly to other people, but certainly in the judgments and assumptions I make. I'm even harsh in judgments I make about myself.

So that's the first resolution on deck for January 1. And I'll start now, actually: to be nicer, to be kinder, in my thinking and in my actions.

2007-11-25T12:34:00.000-05:00

And? I rock.

I hit page 162 this morning.

2007-11-25T12:29:00.000-05:00

Civilization

So our friend Mark loves this computer strategy game called Civilization and over our Catskills vacation he played for quite some time.

Thanksgiving afternoon, upon hearing that Rod was upstairs taking a nap, Mark headed up to do the same.

I was writing at the dining room table.. eeking out that day's 6 pages... when I heard him pause halfway up and then shuffle back down to the living room.

"Well, maybe I'll play a little bit of civilization," I heard him mutter.

2007-11-24T14:55:00.000-05:00

Back in Brooklyn

We just got back to our apartment and I have to say my cats are jerks. The mess they made!

Now Rod's on his way to the gym and Mark's engrossed in one of the Harry Potter books. And me? I'm procrastinating before I do my daily writing thing. (Yes: I did manage to keep churning out 6 pages a day while we were away and am now on page 150! 7 more days to go...)

Tonight we're going out for dinner then maybe over to Magnetic Field to see The Mighty Fine. I'm taking my camera and hopefully I'll remember to snap some pictures...

I actually do have some from our extended weekend up-state but that'll have to wait until later this week. Primarily because I have to crop & filter the pix but also because I can't find the cord that connects the camera to my trusty laptop.

Add another week of novel-writing, three freelance projects, an acupuncture appointment and another session with the reproductive endocrinologist and you've got a week from hell for little old Minerva Jane.

But all that can wait until Monday. Today and tomorrow are still vacation days and after I write I think I may just take a nap before dinner.

2007-11-23T17:34:00.000-05:00

Whenever Possible We Added Butter

Last night was an extravaganza of eating and drinking.

Mark and Rod made the first course: sweet potato gnocchi with sage butter sauce, marinated beed, and tomato-basil-mozzerella salad with meier lemon flavored olive oil.

Yum!

Next we had turkey (brined overnight, of course) with sausage cornbread stuffing, candied yams, potatos with garlic, homemade cranberry sauce, gravy and asparagus with hollandaise sauce.

Dessert: chocolate pecan pie with ice cream.

A different wine with every course...

This morning I had a food hang-over but wasn't feeling so bad that I didn't sneak a forkful of pie while Mark and Rod were loooking the other way.

Next week I'm going on a tofu and veggie cleansing diet, though, because I'm going to get way too fat if I keep eating like this.

All in all, though, one of the best thanksgivings yet.

Am I grateful to have a husband and best friend this cool? You bet your life I am.

2007-11-21T09:37:00.000-05:00

People Never Cease To Amaze You

You'd really have to know these two women to appreciate just how much this tickles me, but my mother-in-law and sister-in-law are volunteering at a soup kitchen all day tomorrow.

2007-11-20T13:26:00.000-05:00

Pecan Pie

So I decided: no apple. It's chocolate pecan pie all the way baby! I've never made one before, but I'm excited to try. Anybody have any tips? I'm baking it tomorrow up at the Catskills cabin we rented...

2007-11-19T19:27:00.000-05:00

SF Mark!

He's in a cab en route from Newark Intl Airport as we speak. The apartment is clean and the scented candles are burning away. A bottle of wine decanted and some cheese and crackers.

The annual Friends Thanksgiving retreat begins. We leave for the Catskills on Wednesday.

Now all I have to do is make sure I get up a good hour or two before everyone else every day to make the day's writing requirement.

I've got 11 days left and boy am I feeling the final stretch.

2007-11-18T22:15:00.000-05:00

The Novel

I hit page 118 today. So that means 32,530 words in 18 days. Prety cool, huh?

2007-11-17T12:09:00.000-05:00

Michael Neithardt's Jeffrey @ The 4th Annual Big Apple Film Festival

This afternoon Rod and I are heading over to the Big Apple Film Festival to take a look at his friend Michael Neithardt's short film, Jeffrey.

I'm pretty excited about it because although Michael's a long-time television commercial producer--most recently with Stardust Studios--this is his first foray into acting. Can't wait to see what he's come up with...

2007-11-16T13:41:00.000-05:00

Who Knew? Richard Russo's A Ham

I'm reading Straight Man for this new book group I just joined and I ran across one of the funniest lines I've read in a long time...

"Never was a man dressed as a woman more full of joie de vivre than Finny off his meds." (page 62).

Mark my words, folks: when this National Novel Writing Month is over, I'm writing a short story with that sentence as a first line.

And if you haven't read Straight Man yet--do so. Think Chabon's Wonderboys meets Kingsley Amis' Lucky Jim meets Roth's Portnoy's Complaint. It's making me exceedingly happy right now.

2007-11-15T13:59:00.001-05:00

What I Want To Be When I Grow Up

You know what I think would be the coolest job ever? Naming colors for home renovation products. I mean take a look at two of the new 2007 colors for Avonite's solid surface counter tops (yes: every once in a while I actually have to do some work for money. Stupid world):

martian sunset; cosmic penny; silver comet.

Isn't that delicious? I can just see myself, colors watches and samples array around me, picking the most fantabulous names I can conjure.

Hmmm.

In another life, maybe...

2007-11-14T13:13:00.000-05:00

Diseases With Awesome Sounding Names

A week or two ago when I was waiting at Quest Diagnostics to give my million vials of blood, I looked on the Diagnostic Test order form the reproductive endocrinologist gave me and noticed the coolest sounding disease ever:

Maple Syrup Urine Disease.

How cool is that? I mean the name, not the disease. I'm sure that part sucks.

2007-11-13T08:04:00.000-05:00

Wishing Harder Than I Ever Have Before

I just finished reading Boho Girl's post about her fertility journey and it brought tears to my eyes. If you don't know about this delicious blog, boy have you been missing something.

And you know what? I'm going to come right out and say it: I've got over a week to wait, but I'm wishing so hard this month I'm sure the whole universe can feel it.

Cross your fingers, everybody. Not just for me, but for all of us.

2007-11-12T15:39:00.001-05:00

A Biblical Feast @ Brooklyn's Miriam

Last week after yoga Rod and I went out to dinner with our friends Dawn & John. There's this Israeli restaurant that we'd tried once before and, since our friends hadn't been there yet, we decided to try it that night.

I thought after my 2+ years in NYC and countless visits to San Fran that I'd seen every kind of restaurant permutation there was.

Not so...

Miriam's is located on Court Street here in Brooklyn and the decor is so Bedouin-chic I felt instantly at home.

Imagine my surprise, though, when I opened the menu to discover the night's choices.

Entitled "November Biblical Feast," they were featuring recipes like Ezekiel bread, Jacob's Stew and Jesus' Grilled Fish.

Weird. But wait: it got weirder still.

Each dish--from Appetizer to Entree--on this special menu was accompanied by a passage from the bible.

Ezekiel Bread: "Take wheat, barley, beans, lentils, millet and emmer. Put them into one vessel and bake them into bread." - Ezekiel 4:9

Jesus' Grilled Fish: "And as soon as they were come to land, they saw a fire of coals there, and fish laid thereon and bread... Jesus then cometh and taketh bread and giveth them, and fish likewise." John 21: 9-14.

The passage for Jacob's stew is too long for me to re-type, but you get the drift.

Now is it just me, or is that one of the weirdest things you've seen? I mean the passages aren't really enlightening or anything--just sort of descriptive.

2007-11-11T13:34:00.000-05:00

And That's Another Thing

Page 74 folks, page 74....

Just about half way done.

2007-11-11T11:26:00.000-05:00

The Annoying Inconsistencies of HBO's Tell Me You Love Me

1) The young nympho keeps answering her cell phone while working the line at that chichi restaurant. This totally wouldn't happen... Touches her germy phone then goes right back to handling food? Maybe in a Dennys but not in an upscale place. I did believe she'd have sex after hours on the counter, though. Because when there's no one there to see what you're doing who doesn't break the rules just a little? Especially that chick with the cheating and obsessive sex.

2) The couple trying to conceive: one episode she took something like eight or nine pregnancy tests in a row which meant she mut have had an endless supply of pee. Totally wouldn't happen that way. I don't know about you all but even when I drink tons of water it usually takes at least an hour or so for my bladder to fill back up again.

2007-11-10T21:41:00.000-05:00

Things You Didn't Know You Could Do

I've written 68 pages in the last ten days.

No idea if this crap is any good, but still feeling pretty proud of myself.

2007-11-09T08:23:00.000-05:00

Paying Down the Debt?

I saw an interview with Dan Rather the other day (don't ask me on which channel or show because I can't for the life of me remember) talking about the Summer of Love and the cultural revolution of the 60s era. And he said something pretty funny. How those kids smoking pot openly in the Haight the summer of '69 are now the aging aged adults shopping the organic aisle, checking every last ingredient.

Think that's true? Do you think that the degree that you're into organics is directly proportionate to the amount of drugs you've done? Because even though I'm into the whole organic/local food and yoga and healthy living thing (I'm channeling positive energy as we speak) I have to admit there is a sense that I'm trying to compensate for damage I did to my body in my 20s. (Oh the melodrama of the 23 year-old poet! Red wine and cigarettes and angst galore! I even dyed my hair black and clothed myself in somber colors. Luckily, there are few pictures.)

2007-11-08T09:20:00.000-05:00

Acupuncture Eliminates Woman's Fear Of Needles

Used to be I was terrified of needles and giving blood caused a lot of anxiety. But these past few weeks of going to acupuncture seem to have at least one positive side effect: I can give blood without fear! I went over to Quest Diagnostics to have the first in a series of blood tests performed yesterday and I swear it was over in like five minutes. And I only felt queasy for about two seconds when I accidentally looked down and saw all those vials of my own blood lying there on the table.

2007-11-07T10:46:00.000-05:00

In Arm & Hammer We Trust

Rod and I have three cats. We used to have four, but we sent Jubilee down to live at my parents farm last Christmas. Still, having three means that litter, food, and feline care are continually fascinating topics of conversation for us here in Brooklyn.

Last month before our trip down to Charlottesville for the Foundation For Cancer Research & Education board meeting we realized we didn't have enough Arm & Hammer specially formulated for multiple cat households (we're a demographic!) and so ran down to the Bodega on the corner of Henry & Atlantic to get a giant bag of Tidy Cats.

Boy was that dumb.

Because this stupid litter has no clumping ability and tracks everywhere so every time one of my long-haired feline babies climbs out of the box they spill the stuff everywhere.

So this morning, at Tazza, over coffee witness the following exchange:

Him: That litter sucks.

Me: I had to vacuum four times yesterday.

Him: Well, now we know better. We'll never buy anything but Arm & Hammer again.

Me: [Nodding but more interested in my Chai latte than the cats]

Rod: The thing is I think the Arm & Hammer clumps even look kind of pretty. They're perfectly round with a little indentation on the top... [Staring wistfully into his coffee.]

Me: You realize that's just hardened pee...

And that right there is one of the reasons I'm the luckiest woman in the world: I've got a husband who can find pleasure in the smallest things and beauty in the strangest places.

2007-11-06T13:57:00.000-05:00

The Lower East Side on A Monday Night

So we went to live band karaoke last night at Arlene's Grocery with our friend Craig. Too much fun was had for a Monday night and I'm dragging all day today. Each task has taken twice as long as it ought to.

As for NaNoWriMo, I've been rewriting the same sentence over and over and can't seem to get into the narrative I've started. Somehow the characters all seem despondent and all too willing to stare off into space. And my paying work? Sheesh. Gonna have to be up late tonight to pull all this off.

Oh, we also went to Katz's deli, which was just wrong. (I'm fatter already.)

They still have all these signs up with the slogan "Senda salami to your boy in the army," left over from a promotion during World War II. And as far as I can tell the decor hasn't really changed all that much since then either. But boy was that reuben good.)

2007-11-05T17:26:00.000-05:00

East Versus West

I’ve been going to an acupuncturist for fertility treatments since the beginning of October.

Yes, that means Rod and I have been trying to conceive. Unsuccessfully so far.

I decided to start doing acupuncture after eleven straight months of a roller-coaster ride of hope and dejection. (Week before my period=giddy hope. Day of my period=despair coupled with strange compulsion to eat multiple bowls of chocolate-covered ice cream.)

“What?” you say. “You’re not supposed to go worry until you’ve been trying for at least a year!”

True. If you’re under 35. And most importantly true if your menstrual cycle is regular—ie within only few days variation each month.

But I’ll be 35 in January.

And my cycle? Shit.

So I’m trying it. Acupuncture and last week something called cupping (which kinda felt like a hot stone massage.) It turns out I’ve got a blood deficiency and a major chi blockage. And there’s something up with my liver. (Ha! My inner writer so loves that.) She told me she believes both my irregular cycle and trouble conceiving are stress-related.

I know that comes as absolutely no surprise to those of you who know me in real life. How high strung is your Minerva Jane, my dears?

But wait! I’m not a doctor’s daughter for nothing. So I’m getting checked out by a reproductive endocrinologist too. Just in case there’s something horribly wrong. Like a blocked tube. Or I’ve been infested by aliens. You never know what could be going on in there. So they’re taking lots of blood at different times points in my cycle this time around. I’ll have a sonogram. We’ll see.

But the strange thing is that these two different traditions are so fucking skeptical of each other.

The reproductive endocrinologist takes one look at the list of supplements I’m on—and keep in mind we’re talking Vitamin D and Omega 3s here, nothing all that out there—and says, “Oh, I don’t know anything about this holistic stuff.”

Still, I have a feeling the integrated medical route is the best. Because I leave the acupuncturist feeling cared for and listened to; I leave the reproductive endocrinologist feeling like I’m in the hands of an efficiency expert. If there’s a flaw in the system, she’ll find it by god. I just don’t get why these two traditions can’t figure out a real way to work together. (Oh god, am I going to write, “Why can’t we all just get along?”) Why yes I am. Because really. Wouldn’t that be fabulous?

Anyway. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

And for those interested: I’m still writing! Total word count as of this afternoon: 10,653. Go NaNoWriMo! If I actually finish this thing on time I’m going to be so fucking proud of myself.)

2007-11-04T15:24:00.000-05:00

What? No REI In New York City?

How is that even possible? And yet seems to be the case. Rod and I are anxious to go grab some warm winter shells--fleece inside, waterproof outside. But can't find a store here.

Ohhhh NY. And here I thought you had everything.

In other news I've been diligently churning out my 1,667 words a day for National Novel Writing Month. Still not sure where the story is going or how I'm going to shape it into anything like a novel, but you know that's really not the point is it?

For you curious georges and georgettes: the working title is the book of strangers.

2007-11-03T12:36:00.000-04:00

Avery Reading At Stain Bar

Some of you may remember that my husband Rod Schecter's short story appeared in the fan-tabulous fiction anthology Avery 1. Well, now there's an Avery 2 and they're having a reading here in Brooklyn to celebrate and raise funds for future issues. Well, I'm assuming they're going to use the funds for future issues. But maybe they're just raising cash for a trip to Bermuda this Winter. Either way, we're heading over to Williamsburg's Stain Bar tonight to listen to some kick-ass readings and imbide some of the borough's finest beer. Fun times, fun times. And I'm bringing my camera so maybe I'll have some lovely pix for you to look at tomorrow.

Oh, and the reading starts at 8pm. If you're in the hood and want to head on over to show your support.

2007-11-02T20:20:00.000-04:00

Because I'm Also A Masochist

While I'm doing National Novel Writing Month I'm also doing National Blog Posting Month. Which means I'll post to this blog every day this month. Now don't go rolling your eyes at me. This really shouldn't be that bad because in the worst case scenario I'll just cut and paste an excerpt from that day's pages into this here blog. Cheating? Maybe.

And all this activity? Really just a way to distract myself from a bunch of other shit going on in my life right now. Although I'm sure at some point this month I'll end up writing about it one way or another. Because what else am I going to talk about?

2007-11-01T09:25:00.000-04:00

Halloween In The West Village

Last night we went to see the parade in the West Village. Weird, but we've been here for two and a half years and have yet to see this famous freak-fest. I think we both sort of thought it would be like Burning Man but it couldn't have been further. Yes, lots of interesting costumes. Yes, lots of people on a variety of costumes. But instead of a general love-fest the Village was chock full of rude crowds of visiting suburbanites. Pushing, shoving. Blowing smoke in your face. Rod even got burned with a cigarette as we pushed past the West 4th St subway station. Mayhem. When we finally pulled away from the crowd and meandered down to Schillers on the Lower East Side I was relieved. (I get a little claustrophobic in crowds; subways at rush hour give me the creeps.) And then this morning I listen to NY1 to discover that four people were shot and another one stabbed last night during the festivities. Gang related, but still: how many people could have been injured in the cross-fire? Next year I'll stick to lovely Brooklyn and the parade of kids tottering down leaf-strewn streets.

2007-10-31T11:41:00.000-04:00

The Big Plunge: National Novel Writing Month

This year I swear I'm doing it: writing an entire novel between November 1 and 30. And by posting about it now I'm relying on all of you to call me a big fat loser if I don't complete 50,000 words in 30 days. Hopefully this little endeavor will knock the bitchy over-critical Editor-MinervaJane right out of my head. Because how can it possibly be any good if I spill words at that rate? So: can I write a shitty meandering novel in that amount of time? You bet I can.

2007-10-29T17:02:00.000-04:00

Happiness Is: Planning A New Trip

I think I've mentioned this before, but next March Rod and I will celebrate ten years together. Not ten years of marriage (we only tied the knot back in '04) but of couple-hood. Which, in our eyes, is just as big a milestone.

So we've decided we're going to do something special to celebrate. Something like a big fat vacation to someplace cool.

On the list of possible candidates so far:

Costa Rica for hiking & beach excursions
Sardinia or Crete for archaeological site visiting & wine tasting
Baja for Low-key Beach Writing Retreat

I'm so excited about all the reading & research I'm going to have to do!

2007-10-27T10:35:00.000-04:00

Yoga To The People

Last night I went to a yoga class for the first time at the yoga-for-everyone studio Yoga To The People. $10 got me a space in the crowded hall for what turned out to be a Power Vinyasa class ala Brian Krest. This meant a lot of extra pushes from chaturanga to plank and a whole slew of ab moves at the end that usually aren’t a part of the vinyasa choreography. (My upper arms are shot, by the way.)

I loved being a part of such a large crowd—there were about 50 of us—and we were scrunched so close together my feet and fingers brushed my neighbors as I moved in and out of poses. He encouraged us to breath loudly, to sigh, to let a big “Ahhhhhh” out as we groaned and moved along our mats. There was something liberating about that release. I'm usually pretty quiet, but last night I found myself moaning as loud as I could with the rest of them. It felt good to let go that way. By the end of class all the windows were steamed up and everybody was drenched in sweat.

I won’t lie: I needed to push out all those bad feelings I’d been having yesterday. Needed to wring myself out like a damp towel, all that angst dripping out pose by pose.

But I have to admit I really missed the spirituality side of it all. I go to yoga for meditation and movement wedded to something higher, a feeling like I’m a part of a tradition and a truth more ancient than myself. I’m not a particularly religious person and I haven’t gone to church since I graduated from my chi-chi religious high school, but yoga has become something half-way between fitness and a sermon for me. And while I enjoyed the YTTP class and will probably go back from time to time (a $10 yoga class in NYC?!), I can’t imagine that type of yoga ever becoming my main focus.

A few oms before we begin moving and a constant focus on the spirit within, on the goal of yoking body to mind, is what I need at this stage in my life in this city in this body.

So: Namaste, y'all.

2007-10-26T13:09:00.001-04:00

Some Days When I Close My Eyes

I can just see the life I've been imagining for myself all along: filled with color and art and giggling babies and boisterous friends, scented with flowers and cooking food and the growing earth.

I've been wishing so hard for so long I'm not sure I know how to just be anymore.

Maybe I'll be ready to share more on that next week, but for now I just need to marinate on how to get back to a place of balance. How to not want so much that I can't see what's in front of me.

Ah, the cryptic nature of Minerva Jane shines through once more.

2007-10-26T10:16:00.000-04:00

Best Advice Ever

Arrived in my InBox today, in the form of Real Simple's Daily Thoughts.

"If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything. - Mark Twain."

2007-10-24T17:15:00.001-04:00

Why I Love Time Out NY

I'm going to quote an entry in the Oct 18-24 edition of Time Out NY in its entirety because its just too good.

From page 78, under Travel:

"Comedy-Improv and Yoga retreat

Leon Trotsky--founder of the Red Army and influential Soviet demagogue--was born on Nov 7 1879 and was assassinated by Stalinist agents in Mexico in 1940. As fortune would have it, this comedy-improve and yoga retreat begins on Trotsky's birthday and is situated six miles from San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. What are the chances? The retreat runs from Nov 7 to 11, and attendees will experience breathtaking views, holistic health and spa services, artisanal cuisine and a comedy workshop--all free from the terrors of Communist hit men. Price does not include airfare. For more info, go to jacquelinekabat.com or call 323-924-5950. $1,160-$1,460."

2007-10-23T19:49:00.000-04:00

The Eerie Accuracy Of My Google Homepage Add-ons

I’m pretty much convinced that the folks over at Google either have a T3 to God himself or are somehow psychically eavesdropping on my life.

As if Google Earth and Google Reader weren’t enough, they now have Beta versions of Google Transit and Google Mars (which is going to be TOTALLY useful).

All of which was sort of big brotherish and strange enough until I started noticing something funny about my Google Homepage add-ons.I have customized it just the way I want it: Daily Einstein quotes, Quotes of the Day, Horoscope, Buddhist Thought of the Day, Weather, Recipe of the Day. Yada yada yada.

All good add-ons great for a few minutes of diversion while I transition from morning blah to powerhouse Minerva Jane.

The weird thing is over the last few days the content of these add-ons have all strangely coincided with the tenor and current of my life.

An example? Last night I write an email to my friend, long known to readers of this blog as SFMark, about the fact that I want to make apple pie during our Friends Thanksgiving next month in the Catskills and what should the recipe o’ the day be this morning? Apple pie.

But wait. It gets stranger. More complicated even.

My horoscope today said, among other things: “You stand to gain much in your casual relationships now, but you'll have to go out of your way to be a part of the group, rather than remaining outside of the castle.” Now I have a long history of letting my shyness and naturally reserved nature isolate me. And since we moved to NYC I’ve made a few friends, but not a whole lot. We’ve got our own media company, headquarted on the sofa with satellite offices in local coffee shops like Tazza, Tea Lounge and Think. It’s been great and business is actually growing at a pace we never thought possible, but it means no real colleagues and office friendships. Rod, since he grew up on Long Island, has a ton of family and friends and while I love them all, they’re still a part of his past, his world. I need my own realm so to speak. And it’s just been pretty hard for me to move outside my comfort zone.

Saturday afternoon on our hike in the woods back behind their Virginia farm, my Dad and I talked about this at length. About how I tend to hang back. About how that might not be good for me in the long run. And then, this morning, on my Google home page, there’s that prediction: you'll have to go out of your way to be a part of the group.

See?

But the clincher was the Quote of the Day, as follows: “When a man is wrapped up in himself, he makes a pretty small package. - John Ruskin” Which was exactly the point I’d gotten myself to by the time I opened up my laptop and clicked on the Firefox icon. All this talk of confidence and introverts versus extroverts and social networks and feeling isolated and wishing I was more—I don’t know—more some how had tornadoed in my brain to something more intense than it ought to be and I was feeling more than a little obsessed with my own schtick . But that quote snapped me back. In the end, being wrapped up in yourself is worse than being a little shy and feeling a little lonely in a city as vast as NY.

The bottom line? I need to get over myself. That and chill the fuck out. Easier said than done, but there you go.

A complete existential crisis resolved in the course of a few minutes, courtesy of Google.

Which begs the question: who the hell are these guys?

2007-10-22T20:20:00.000-04:00

The List
Last year I started a running list of things I want to do during my lifetime. Just about once a month I read over this list--adding new goals, altering details, or deleting items. And every time I edit The List I spend a good deal of time daydreaming about how each task might unfold. I figure if I keep up my healthy eating & exercise routine I have a good 66 more years to accomplish my goals. (I'm being conservative and aiming for 100...)

And oddly enough, most of the list involves travel.

Take a look. Then tell me: what's on your list?

1. Be an extra in a movie or television show.
2. Take trapeze lessons.
3. Travel across Virginia in the end of October in a hot air balloon. (The fall colors!)
4. Take tango dancing lessons.
5. Go trekking in Nepal.
6. Spend the winter in Costa Rica writing.
7. Have a professional photo shoot in a field with wildflowers. (I know. Such a cheese.)
8. Learn to flip an omelet perfectly.
9. Get fitted for a bra at a fancy schmancy lingerie shop.
10. Go on a yoga-adventure vacation (hiking or kayaking) in South or Central America.
11. Go hiking in Cinque Terre, Italy.
12. Visit Australia and/or New Zealand.
13. Take a yoga class every day for one month.
14. Go camping at Big Sur for a week.
15. Take a tantric yoga class.
16. Finish writing that second novel.
17. Write a screenplay.
18. Become a certified yoga teacher and develop a yoga for creativity class.
19. Go to the Denali National Park.
20. Write a book of travel essays.

2007-10-21T13:05:00.000-04:00

Sunday Scribbling: My First Act as Queen of the World

So I've decided to participate in this online writing group. Each week they post a writing prompt and on Sunday you post your responses and link back to the site.

This weeks is "My first act as Queen/ King of the World will be..."

And here's my first response. Whoo-hoo!

My first Act as Queen of the World would be to dole out one free wish to every person in the world. They’d be free to spend this wish anyway they’d like at any point in their lives. Some would spend it right away, on frivolous or poorly considered whims. Others might hoard it for years, only in later life spending it on selfless and noble endeavors or long-nurtured dreams and aspirations. Or any combination of the above. The only catch would be that once the wish was spent they’d have to describe in detail to me how and why they chose what they chose and if the wish did what they hoped it would or if it changed their lives in ways unanticipated or anticipated, unwelcome or welcome.

Because as a writer, I’m nothing if not a voyeur. And I find the things people long for endlessly interesting.

If you have a few moments, check out the Sunday Scribblings website as well as a list of other contributors.

2007-10-20T16:05:00.000-04:00

Tomatoes In October

I’m down in Charlottesville, VA visiting my parents for the weekend—my Mom’s 64th birthday and a Monday board meeting for the cancer foundation they started a few years back. It’s 80 degrees, same as Brooklyn. Warm and humid. But it didn’t really strike me just how weird this weather has been until I went on an afternoon walk with my father and saw their garden: several peppers and tomatoes still ripening on each plant. In late October. Red and gold and brown leaves sparkling in the trees along the edge of the back field all the same. It was the most surreal thing I’ve seen in a while.

2007-10-19T11:10:00.000-04:00

Things That Make Me Snort In Laughter

You heard me. Snort. An unattractive habit but there you go. (According to Rod I also have a hyena-like laugh when tiggled for extended periods of time.

But something I just snorted at is this blog:

The "Blog" of "Unnecessary" Quotation Marks

Please please please go check it out.

(And now that I think about it someone should create a blog with covertly-taken cell phone images of folks doing the "air" quotation marks as they speak. People from all over the world could contribute!)

Now. Back to work.

2007-10-19T11:06:00.001-04:00

Technology Rocks

I'm on an Amtrak train working on my laptop, posting to various blogs via our brand spanking new AirCard 875U.

And yes, I still covet the iPhone. But it doesn't change my happiness in any way in this moment.

2007-10-11T12:18:00.000-04:00

There'll be days like this...

Yesterday was a doozy for me. Insomnia the night before, stressed for no fucking good reason and, well, you get the picture. Then someone send me a link to this today and it made me both jump out of my seat and crack up.

Good thing, too, because I was two seconds away from shoplifting some dental floss. (Just kidding!)