Posted in Randomy Goodness


After I closed the cover of The Life We Bury, I visited Goodreads to click I’m finished. I read one book! I’m ahead of schedule! Woohoo! Look at me go. This year, I’ve pledged to read 12 books. Surely I can read one book a month.

In 2014, I read 17 books after pledging only 12 (overachiever!). So in 2015, I upped my goal to 24, which I accomplished (go, me!). In 2016, I thought I’d go for more: 35. That’s more than 1 book every 2 weeks.

I only read 23.

Continue reading “McReading”

Posted in Introvert in an Extrovert World

Introvert’s Lament

A rare moment alone, so I sit in silence, not saying a word. I can do this for hours, perhaps days (have to try that). No music. No TV. Just the sound of the wind outside my window blowing through the trees (whose leaves may never change color since the temps are back in the 80s).

Continue reading “Introvert’s Lament”

Posted in Randomy Goodness

Look Down


Usually, I’m an eye-to-the-sky kind of girl. There are cloud shapes to recognize, blue sky to marvel at, birds flying by. There’s a lot going on up there. Plus, when you tend to be optimistic, things are always looking up, eh?

Last week I discovered, though, the joy of looking down.

On the hottest day of the year, with my gas tank gauge needle dangling perilously above the “E,” I decided I needed a little fuel. I wasn’t looking forward to getting out of the cool of the air-conditioned car, but hey, that’s why I  wear the big girl pants. Adults do what they gotta do (whining optional).

As I walked around to the passenger’s side where the gas tank is, with my head slightly tilted toward the ground, I saw something shiny. (This is not an ADD alert — I really saw something shiny.) Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a quarter — a whole 25 cents! — just waiting for me to pick it up and pocket it. “Thanks, Mr. Person Who Dropped a Quarter,” I said out loud to no one in particular.

After fueling up a wee bit, I decided to go to the library to pick up the books I had on hold. Four. To add to the stack in my office already — both library and bargain bought. As I left the parking lot and ambled on the pavement leading to the Door of Knowledge (I love the library, in case you didn’t know), I saw chalk on the ground. There were hearts and books, numbers, random letters. Then, a most beautiful sight: “I ❤ books!!” Me, too, kid. If only I had some chalk to add a contribution to your awesome thought.

I sometimes forget to look around and down, rather than looking up, as I’m wont to do. Turns out, if you do, you might find and/or see some amazing things. Give it a try. I’ll bet you a quarter you see something cool.

Posted in Randomy Goodness

Admitting my problem is the first step

My television is off way more than it’s on. I kicked the habit years ago and, for the most part, I don’t miss it. But sometimes, I’ll admit it: I watch crap TV. I never get sucked into a long-term series, but sometimes, a short-term event catches my attention.

Sometimes, I can hold my head high. I’m looking at you, True Detective — you were (mostly) smart and well-written.

And then sometimes, oh the shame… I don’t want to look, I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it. A few Sundays ago, that’s exactly what happened. I perused the channels and landed somewhere I never expected to linger: Lindsay on OWN. I watched every episode since. I live-tweeted the 2-hour finale yesterday.

Don’t judge. It’s unbecoming.

Lindsay sucked me in with the pure drama of the lack of drama — the unpacking! of all of those designer goods! in her new apartment!

Seriously, almost nothing happens in the 8 episodes of the “docu-series.” But I kept watching. My brain fought, as it does, this cotton brain candy. So I watched Lindsay as if it was an anthropological study. In between thoughts of “Something HAS to happen, right?” I became determined to learn… something.

What I Learned by Watching Lindsay on OWN

I’m glad I’m not a celebrity and/or an addict. Trying to kick drugs or alcohol sounds hard enough. I mean, it took me FOREVER to give up French Fries… OK, you caught me, I still eat them (back to the Betty Crocker Center). Trying to kick an addiction when you’re not used to boundaries and hearing the word ‘no’ seems more difficult than it needs to be.

Chasing what could be lost seems exhausting (as does making endless excuses) and makes one look somewhat desperate.

The real world and Hollywoodland are on different planets. Here on Earth, a non-celebrity would have used his or her last chance the third time of tardiness, not the millionth (…and counting).

If I had a hairstylist who styled my tresses when I was going out “in public,” I would hope that my hair looked more “did” than if I had done it myself. (The celebrity world can, too, be deep and shallow at the same time!)

I’ve seen documentaries that were amazing. This isn’t one of them. Why? The reluctant subject. The shooting/editing (though the production company did try to make the thousands of shots of the outside of her apartment interesting by showing the windows from the street below, from across the street, by turning the camera on an angle!). And maybe OWN shouldn’t venture into this arena (not quite Kardashian territory, but it’s a slippery slope, Oprah).

As the show ended (Lindsay has a movie to work on! Lindsay had a miscarriage? It was getting way too melodramatic… good thing there were only five minutes left when that bomb dropped), my brain felt like it was melting, like celluloid touching the projector’s bulb. After a good sleep, I hope it returns to its normal thinking self and forgives me for what I subjected it to.

Dear Brain: I’m sorry. I’ll read an extra book this week to make up for it, I promise.