Going Inkless

     In the week following my trip to the emergency room, I've been to and from the doctor's office a couple of times.  I've submitted to tests that were inconvenient and unpleasant, all while recovering and trying to maintain something like a normal life at home and work.  It turns out I have a combination of conditions that can be addressed and overcome, or at least endured.  Things will ultimately be OK.  However, my last doctor visit was a bit turbulent.  There was the anxiety of discovering a new ailment, the process of absorbing information and weighing treatment options, considering what path might work with my current insurance.  I was sent off to fetch medicine only to be turned away by the pharmacy because the insurance company would only work directly with the doctor on approving this treatment.  That meant a second trip to the doctor that day, and a long explanation of the circumstances.  I'm still waiting on the arran...

     Human beings are creatures of habit.  So are other creatures, as far as I have observed, but since most of the creatures who read this blog are humans, I'll focus on that angle.  We all develop routines.  We do things in the same way or at the same time over and over, day in and day out.  The patterns repeat without interference from our brains, and that's the point.  When you've worked out the mundane stuff and you can just follow the routine, your mind is free to work on more interesting things.      Even someone like me who appreciates random surprises will fall into habitual patterns.  I still wake up at the same time each morning.  It doesn't matter if it's a weekend or vacation except that on those days, I may get to roll over and take an immediate nap.  The internal alarm clock still rings at 6 each day.  Each morning, I follow the same steps to get ready for the day.  I drive the same route to...

One of the advantages of my work is that I get to see what people are reading.  In the course of handling requests, I get a feel for what's trendy at a certain time, at least among readers in my area.  I'm exposed to new ideas and reminded of old ones I may not currently be considering.  There is not, contrary to what some may think, any time for reading while working in the library.  However, you do get a dose of serendipitous mental stimulation through titles, blurbs or cover art as the books pass through your hands.  A few days ago, a group of Christmas craft books crossed my desk, including one that was solely about holiday decorations made from felt.  Seeing the cheery but simple ornaments displayed on the cover reminded me of my daughter's first Christmas. She was a day short of one month old then.  My first husband and I were young parents, scraping to get by on the type of salary being young affords.  We were living in a tiny ramshackle ...

As blogs go, mine is a simple one. This is intentional as I think it suits the content. The essays you'll find here are basically an extension of the written journals I've kept over the years. The blog is just another box to stuff with thoughts and meditations, and though I may hope that others find them comforting or useful in their own lives, these thoughts are not meant to be a grand display. Bells and whistles were unnecessary . Still, I love the flexibility Blogger offers, and I love even more seeing what people have done with it. Individuals and groups all over the world have used this tool to record their lives, to display their art, to imagine and to remember. There are photography blogs full of unique visions, poetry blogs of unique voices. Some have created simple diaries and others, elaborate scrapbooks celebrating an important event or endeavor. Still others use their blogs to keep in touch with loved ones while away at college or if their work has taken t...

Today, I took a train into the city to visit one of the museums there. The trip began before sun-up, my plan being to arrive just before the doors opened; So, my breakfast and morning intake of caffeine was minimal. After exploring one floor of artifacts, silently absorbing the art and dreams of bygone cultures, I decided to stop in the little cafe for a small cup of soup and a large one of coffee. There was a group there, breaking for lunch in the middle of their visit, and somehow my meal ended up tacked onto their bill. We recognized the mistake immediately, but the leader of the group, concerned about the look of anxiety that flashed across the cashier's face, cheerfully agreed to cover the mistaken charge. It surprised me, and I repeatedly offered to pay him for my meal, but he wouldn't have it. All I could give was my thanks. Now, I have made similar gestures myself on occasion, and I know others who make a sport of anonymously paying for lunch or groceries for un...

"What are we having for dinner?" he asks. "I hadn't planned anything. Who are we feeding?" "It's just us tonight." "Oh, we should be able to throw something together from what we have lying around. There's leftovers from earlier in the week and some canned stuff..." "Hmm. I'm kinda hungry now. Do you want to order a pizza or go out?" "That would be OK, I guess." "OK, pizza or restaurant?" "What do you feel like?" "I asked you. What do you want?" "I don't know. What do you feel like having?" "I don't know. You want Italian or Chinese or something else?" "Anything is fine." "Fine? Not great? What do you really want?" "Seriously, anything is fine. It's all good." "But what do you want? Something has to be better than the rest. Pick a restaurant." >sigh "Well, I guess we'll want to go somepl...