A Reading Update

As you can tell, I'm sure, from recent posts, I've been reading tons and tons o' murder mysteries lately. And something about it is very satisfying. I like feeling like I'm reading with a purpose, and I like feeling like my reading is centered on something--some theme, some goal. Over the last week, I've finished the first Sherlock Holmes novella A Study in Scarlet and P.D. James's A Mind for Murder. Oh, I've also read Edgar Allen Poe's three tales of "ratiocination:" "Murders in the Rue Morgue," "The Mystery of Marie Roget," and "The Purloined Letter." And I'm feeling in this state of synthesis where I'm living and breathing and thinking mystery, you know? When I get really into a writer or a genre or a class or whatever, I find myself going about my life, almost constantly mulling it all over in my mind. And I rather like that feeling--it seems to give me a sense of purpose. So two of the Poe stories I could do without, but "The Purloined Letter" is pretty smart. And in A Study in Scarlet, Watson and Holmes refer to Poe's Dupin. And, I don't know, it feels cool and smart and interesting to be tracing the development of something. And intertextual references always excite me anyway. So all this to say, I guess, that I'm just having a lot of fun with work, and that really seems like how it should be.

"We Tell Ourselves Stories in Order to Live"

In "The White Album," Joan Didion opens by exploring why it is that we write.  And as I'm preparing for tomorrow's Freshman Comp class, I'm reminded of what Didion has to say:

We tell ourselves stories in order to live.  The princess is caged in the consulate.  The man with the candy will lead the children into the sea.  The naked woman on the ledge outside the window on the sixteenth floor is a victim of accidie, or the naked woman is an exhibitionist, and it would be “interesting” to know which.  We tell ourselves that it makes some difference whether the naked woman is about to commit a mortal sin or is about to register a political protest or is about to be, the Artistophanic view, snatched back to the human condition by the fireman in priest’s clothing just visible in the window behind her, the one smiling at the telephoto lens.  We look for the sermon in the suicide, for the social or moral lesson in the murder of five.  We interpret what we see, select the most workable of the multiple choices.  We live entirely, especially if we are writers, by the imposition of a narrative line upon disparate images, by the “ideas” with which we have learned to freeze the shifting phantasmagoria which is our actual experience.

Didion's is one of my favourite passages about writing, about why we write.  Maybe we don't write to live in a literal sense, and yet we write in the attempt to find meaning in a world that is meaningless.  Last night, I was watching Slings and Arrows a "dramedy" about a troup of Shakespearing actors who, in season 2, present MacBeth.  Some of them see a production of MacBeth at a local elementary school.  And as his wife goes mad, MacBeth thinks something like "I don't understand life.  It just goes on and on."  And as Didion points out, the attempt to find a narrative thread in our existence is the attempt to follow the thread or clue that could lead to some sort of meaning, we are searching for what MacBeth feels he's missing.  And "story" is a way to do so.  I always think this is so powerful and says so much not just about why we write but why we read and why the study of literature is important.  This seemed to be worth sharing.

Dorothy L. Sayers: Clouds of Witness

Last night, I finished the second Lord Peter Wimsey book, Clouds of Witness, and I very much enjoyed it.  Sayers is really quite a good writer, and although Lord Peter can get a little annoying at times, I basically like him as a character.  But here's what's interesting to me, at least at the moment:  Lord Peter is written as a modern, secular kind of guy, but Parker, the police inspector guy that Lord Peter runs around with, is all Christiany and traditional.  Inspector Parker reads commentaries on the New Testament as his bed time reading.  Now none of this is particularly interesting in and of itself, necessarily.  But here's the interesting piece:  Sayers herself was very vocal and "out" about her own Christianity.  She was certainly a scholar and an academic and a writer, and she made it clear that her beliefs and her faith motivated her work and informed her understanding of the world.  So, here's the thing:  in many ways, the middle-class, conservative, seemingly-Christian Parker would seem to be more like Sayers herself than is Lord Peter.  And I don't know what to make of this.  And I understand Peter's social class; after all, who doesn't want to read about a quirky member of the Peerage?  But why make Peter so markedly secular, especially in light of Parker's presence in the books.  I don't know where I'm going with the whole thing, but it seems somehow unexpected.

And So It Begins. . .

I've made it through the first two days of the semester.  And my sanity seems to be entirely intact.  I don't, however, expect this unaccustomed feeling of sanity to last much longer, as my allergies have been increasingly worse over the past week or so.  I'm good for the first eight hours or so after I wake up.  But then, suddenly my eyes are irritated, and all I really want to do is sleep, or maybe intermittently read and sleep.  Or maybe just zone out in front of the TV for a while.  But that's really not what I'd planned to say in this post.  What I really wanted to say is that I'm somehow both relieved and satisfied to be back to work.  It feels healthy and like working and teaching and reading and writing is what I somehow need to be doing.  But just now, I feel so completely exhausted that I think I could collapse.  I don't particularly enjoy the first day of class; I always end up going over my over-long, overly-detailed syllabus, and it's just not all that interesting, especially when I find myself doing it for the third or fourth time in two days.  Nonetheless, I do consider it important and worthwhile, but still boring as anything.  But I'm teaching such fun, fun stuff, and for the first time in a long time, my workload feels manageable.  For these things I am thankful.

Dorothy L. Sayers: Whose Body?

I'm just finishing Sayers's Whose Body? And yes, it really does have the question mark in the title, as you can see above.  Isn't this a really great, retro cover?  I have really enjoyed this book for a number of reasons.  I read one or two of Sayers's Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries some years ago, and I have seen two different actors portray Lord Peter, courtesy of the BBC.  But now, I've started at the beginning with Whose Body? and hope to read as much as I can of the series (in order, of course) over the next couple of weeks.  OK, so this book is set in England in the early 20s, I think--it was published in 1923.  And one thing that we discover about Lord Peter (a younger son, without land or a title) is that he suffers shell-shock.  I'm interested in how the World Wars affect English culture, and especially English cultural identity.  And--I don't know--I'm always interested in England between the wars, particularly.  But one really cool think about this novel is the ways in which the narrator keeps reminding us that it is, in fact, a novel, a work of fiction.  Over and over, Lord Peter makes remarks like, "well, if this were a Sherlock Holmes story, instead of real life. . . "  But of course, it's not real life and is much more akin to a Sherlock Holmes story.  Towards the end, the narrator tells us that Lord Peter, as an detective, albeit an amature one, has been affected by Holmes and other literary detectives.  And of course, Peter is, in a way, the literary offspring of Holmes.  Lord Peter himself is quite bookish and quotes poetry and that kind of thing a lot, which makes it all double fun!  I'm sure that Sayers's The Mind of the Maker would be instructive here, would allow one to make connections between literary creation and the real world, but I don't remember much about it all.  I'm sooooo enjoying Sayers, anyway.  She's a remarkable person; she was a scholar who, among other things, translated Dante's Divine Comedy, into verse, I think. (Lord Peter, by the way, purchases some rare edition of Dante and reads Dante in the novel.) And she's a really good writer--better, I'd say, than Agatha Christie, who writes during the same period and seems to be much more popular, at least now.  Anyway, I realize that this isn't so like super insightful  or super academic or anything.  But I'm just really enjoying this novel and am especially intrigued by the intertextual references and how they suggest we might read / interpret the work.  Oh, plus, the book opens with a man's finding a naked corpse, wearing only glasses, in his bathtub.  And it takes quite a while to decide whose body it is, hence Whose Body?  And really, that all by itself is great!

I just went upstairs to photocopy syllabi, but the photocopier jammed, which isn't unusual, and I'm waiting for the staff to fix it.  This means that I have a bit of free time.  I've realized last night and this morning that I'm super excited for the semester to start in some ways.  I'm teaching a course that I'm calling British Detective Fiction, and it's just feeling super fab and fun and interesting.  And maybe this is why I have the job I do, because where else would I be getting paid to reading and talk about Sherlock Holmes and Inspector Morse and Albert Campion and Inspector Dalgliesh and all the rest?  Really, what could be better than that?  And I'm looking forward to all the little things, like rereading The Hound of the Baskervilles and, even better, watching all the adaptations I can get ahold of.  The one with Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee is the absolute worst / best.  It could qualify for MST3K, and if you are really interested, Netflix has a great trailer for it here, which gives a good sense of the tone and production quality of the whole thing.  And it just seems like there's so much to read and talk about and look forward to.  As I've been reading and thinking about this course, it's come to my attention that all these people I know, especially my colleagues, are sort of in the closet about reading murder mysteries, and it feels great to feel like there's actually this whole community of us indulging in this reading and that, I don't know, we don't have to keep being in the closet about it.  And I keep thinking about  mysteries and detectives and popular culture and official culture and medievalism.  And I keep watching more and more of the Midsommer Murders, which are grand, and plan to start at the beginning and watch all of the BBC's Inspector Morse, who is probably my favorite.  And it's nice--finally!--to feel interested in something again.

Ok, so I haven't posted much lately--here's a quickie update.  I'm feeling less depressed / anxious, which is good.  I've been busy with prepping for the new semester--classes start Monday.  I always kinda enjoy getting all organized and putting together syllabi and planning out my semester, but it's always a little maddening too.  For example, yesterday, I discovered that three novels I'd planned to teach this fall are out of print.  That really hadn't occurred to me as a possibililty (silly me!) and wasn't an eventuality that I'd considered.  And it was just somehow so frustrating.  I mean, it seems especially ridiculous (or something) that in a series of detective novels, all but one would be available, especially when it's the one that everyone seems to think the best.  And yes, they can be purchased used online for really very reasonable prices.  But that sort of isn't the point.  I guess it was an unexpected bump in the road, or whatever.  And I've been working a lot--mental work, not physical labour--and I've been tired but not able to get to sleep.  And the whole insomnia thingy is always maddening in its own way.  And then, I've been really craving a good cheese burger, which is unlike me, mostly because I don't normally eat dead cow.  So I guess I just don't really know what's going on with me other than to say that I've been working a lot and I'm tired but I'm somehow satisfied.

I don't know where to begin.  I've been back from CA for nine days now, and with each passing day, I've become increasingly blah feeling.  With the exception of yesterday, it's rained every day since I've been back.  And maybe that's part of my current listlessness.  About four days ago, I had several nights of wicked bad insomnia, and that affects my mood too.  And maybe it's just that I'm ready to go back to work; after all, it's been about three months since I've really worked.  The only other summer I've not taught was the summer I was working, nearly feverishly, to finish my dissertation.  And that counts as work, doesn't it?  I had grand plans, at one point, to get lots and lots of studying and prep and writing done over the summer, but somehow that didn't happen.  Until I left for CA, I did get lots of crafting and yoga and fun reading done, and it seems like that's really, really what I needed to do with my summer.  (And wow, when's the last time I wrote a "what I did with my summer vacation" essay?)  But now, on the other end of things, I feel icky, that whole I-haven't-accomplished-anything feeling, coupled with creeping anxiety, the paralyzing kind.  And apparently Netflix is having technical difficulties, so I don't have anything good to watch.  *sigh*  I'm just feeling kinda lonely and lost and purposeless.  Not good.  But starting next week, I'll just have to get a lot of work done, in anticipation of the new semester, and really, maybe that's good for me.  I'm looking forward to it.

Oi.  So I haven't posted in ages, and there are lots of good reasons for my silence.  But they really aren't that interesting, I suppose.  I was in California for nearly 2 weeks.  It was a good, if somewhat exhausting, trip.  But I think I'm glad to be home.  My semester starts in less than two weeks, and I'm feeling pretty anxious about it.  I don't know why I'm feeling anxious, but it's a really unpleasant (at best) kind of feeling.  And so it goes.  I'm at work today, attempting to pencil out syllabi and plan for the semester; classes require more advance planning than most people suspect.  It feels good to be getting organized and sorted and all that.  It seems that I only have really banal kinds of things to say.  Oh well.

T13: Things For Which I Feel Thankful Every Day

I've probably said this before, but I'm convinced that at least part of the key to contentment is truly appreciating the small, everyday kinds of things in our lives.  And lately, I've been very much aware of the things and happenings and people for which I feel truly thankful each day.  And so I offer this list, hoping that I can make it to thirteen.  Some are obvious, some mundane, but always counting our blessings seems like a healthy practics.

1.  Dishes.  Some of you know that I own more than one set of dishes.  And I enjoy them all.  I love having what I consider just the right bowl or plate for each occasion and each meal.  And I want different bowls for oatmeal and soup and ice cream and salad, and I enjoy them all.  The same with tea cups and mugs and tea pots.

2.  Dogs.  Quite literally, every day I am so thankful that each one of my dogs is a part of my life.  Each is different, and I have a different relationship with each.  But each provides so much love.  And my life is absolutely richer because of Guinnie, Polly, and Fenway.

3.  Books.  I read at least something each day.  And my life, again, is more full and rich and meaningful because of books and books and more books.

4.  My yard.  One thing I love about this time of year in Vermont is that every day there's something new and different to see in my yard.  Taking the dogs out each day is like a treasure hunt.

5.  Soup.  I really love soup.  There are so many variations, and regardless of the time of year, I find it to be such a satisfying meal.  Plus, it's a really good excuse for bread and butter!

6.  Creativity.  I like the sense of living creatively.  I like feeling like the mundane things I do, I can do creatively.  I mean, when I cook or get dressed or whatever, I'm always looking for opportunities to do these things creatively.

7.  Textiles and Fibers:  I've been sewing and crafting lately, and it's just so wonderful.  And although small things, I feel so blessed by fabric and paper and yarn and ribbon and all kinds of materials.  Just a small spool of grosgrain ribbon, purchased for less than a dollar, can afford so much sheer joy.  A skein of yarn can produce absolute bliss.

8.  Scented candles.  Again, candles aren't so important in the grand scheme of things, and yet the enjoyment they bring far outweighs their monetary value.

9.  Clean sheets.  I love the feeling of freshly laundered sheets.  There's nothing quite so perfect as getting into bed when the sheets are just right.

10.  Tea.  My doctor has suggested that maybe I should cut back on my tea consumption.  And in theory, I suppose it's not a bad idea.  But in practice, I just am not ready to cut back.  Tea, again, provides a satisfaction that is difficult to describe.

11.  A perfect turkey sandwich.  Lately, I'm in love with this sandwich that they sell at the deli of my local grocery store.  It's turkey with cranberry sauce and stuffing on a cibatta roll. And it is just delightful.

12.  Yoga practice.  Yoga practice provides a state of relaxation and well being that I've seldom found elsewhere.   Again, it's something that's difficult to describe yet, like tea, something I just don't want to live without.

13.  Friends.  Daily, I feel deeply, deeply thankful for my friends.

So maybe this list is sappy and predictable.  I mean, who doesn't care about friends?  It's just that at this single, precise moment, all these seem really important, and I feel so much deep gratitude for all thirteen.

A Perfect Meal

There's something exciting and wonderful and so satisfying about having an ideal meal, you know?  It's like sometimes the culinary planets are in perfect alignment, and the meal is just right for the situation.  And that makes me so totally happy.  I just had a late supper of a small bowl of lobster bisque and a glass of Riesling.  And it somehow seemed just right (call me Goldilocks) for this steamy summer evening.  And the soup wasn't homemade, just something I picked up from the grocery store take-out section.  And it doesn't seem like a cream soup would be so perfect for my sticky, hot state.  And yet, it all seemed just right.  It's getting close to 9:00.  I plan to get in bed early, finish my wine, and watch Bravo while reading Jasper Fforde until I'm ready to sleep.  It almost feels like all is right with the world.

I Heart CA

Lately, all I can think about is that I wish I were in California.  And I'll be visiting in a week, but that's not what I mean.  I want to be living someplace that feels like home, not like some different culture where I'll never quite find my place, because that's how New England feels to me.  It's been hot the past few days, but not that dry, desert heat that I associate with home.  It's been warm but wet and rainy and it feels like there's nowhere fun to go, nothing fun to do.  I take that back:  there's lots fun to do right at home, but nowhere to go.  I want to be where there are real malls and Targets and Gaps.  Is that just superficial?  Oh, let's not forget Trader Joe's and Mexican food.  Really, is that asking too much?  I''m tired, at least for now, of this sodden but oh-so-green summer.  I want the desert.  And I want to be with friends.  And I want to feel like I'm a part of something larger than myself.

A Crafting Update

I've almost finished this dress--I still need to hem it.  And although it's kinda boring in the picture, it's cute on.  It's Simplicity 2846.   It's made of a fairly light weight cambric.  And my idea is that I can wear it now as a summery dress and later with a turtleneck and tights as a jumper.  But what's really exciting is that I've been researching how to alter patterns for a fuller bust--apparently it's called a FBA or a full bust alteration.  And this dress is my first experiment with it; it turned out really well, and I'm quite pleased with the fit.

Also, I've been working on some hand embroidery.  This is a pink creamer motif on a tea towel.  It's from Aunt Martha's Hot Iron Transfers 3890.  I really love the vintage quality of this piece and plan to do a tea towel with a matching sugar bowl, although that may be a while in coming.



So, with one project and another, I've been a busy stitcher.  And it makes me very happy.  Such fun, and so practical too!

Success (For Real This Time)!

I'm so very pleased to say that my basement is just about in the shape I've always wanted it to be in.  I've spent several hours each of the last three or four days working away.  I'm just so excited--it's been just over two years since I've had "organize basement" on my list of things to do.  There are just a few more changes I think I want to make.  First, I think I want a second table to work at.  Right now, I have a 60x30 inch folding table for crafting, sewing, cutting out fabric, whatever.  But I think that purchasing a second, inexpensive folding table would be wonderful, so that I can have more than one project going at a time and still have space to spread out.  I figure if I position them in an L-shape, I can roll on my office chair from project to project.  Second, I think I want to paint the walls, although I'm not sure what color.  I think it would be super fun to do a wall or part of a wall in chalkboard paint.  I mean, wouldn't that be great to be able to write notes and such on the wall?  I'm also thinking about buying some of that primer filled with iron filings for a part of a wall; it's this great product that makes the surface such that magnets adhere to it.  Again, that seems both fun and practical.  But we'll see--there are other paint projects around the house that I may want to tackle first.  One of my goals in organizing the space was not to purchase anything--shelving, storage bins, whatever--but to only use what I already had on hand.  I'm pleased to say that I met this particular goal.  So things are good--this feels really great.

Success!

Well, maybe "success" is too strong a word.  But I feel like I'm approaching it.  Sometime last week, I know I wrote about how I feel so defeated by my basement.  But today, I'm pleased to say, I did spend some time down there organizing stuff and making it a more comfortable, usable space.  And it feels really good to feel like I'm making some progress.  Don't get me wrong--I still have a long way to go.  And it may never be perfect.  But at least I'm doing something and not just allowing anxiety to get the better of me.  I realize that part of the problem is that I really have more stuff than I have usable storage for.  And I suppose that part of the solution is to stop acquiring stuff that I can't really store and ultimately don't make use of.  I know this is pretty obvious, but I feel like it's something that I need to remind myself of.  (Oh dear, I ended the last three sentences with prepositions--bad, bad, bad!)  Anyhow, I do feel good about simply facing the situation and taking some sort of action.  I plan to reward myself by opening a bottle of my favorite everyday wine, Ravenswood Vintner's Blend Zinfandel.

Ian McEwan's Atonement

So last night, I started reading McEwan's novel Atonement.  When the movie came out (was it 6? 9? months ago), I had zero interest in the film.  This may be because of Kira Knightley's presence, or it may be because there were lots of war scenes in the TV commercials.  Either way, the movie wasn't appealing to me, but the novel sounded interesting.  So I started it last night.  I've read about 60 pages, and it's beautifully written.  And the same events are told from several different perspectives--I like that in a novel.  Something about it reminds me of V. Woolf, although it's not terribly stream-of-consciousy.  But it's interesting and well written.

Frustration

Ok, so I have a fairly large finished basement.  It's a really great space in a number of ways.  When I first moved it, my idea was to use it as a study.  And so I have my desktop computer and lots of books down there.  However, a little over a year ago, I started using one of my upstairs bedrooms as a place to work and read and write and all that.  And my idea was that the entire downstairs, or most of it anyway, could be used as a dedicated crafting space.  And it's a great space for that kind of thing.  And I can't tell you how wonderful it is to have a big table where I can leave out my sewing machine and fabric or paper and stamps or whatever else I'm working on.  This kind of space is, of course, any crafter's dream.  But here's the problem.  My basement is this total disorganized mess.  It's become this messy catch-all storage place.  I have bins of old clothes that I want to get rid of or refashion or just store.  I have stacks of paper and stickers and cards and paper crafting supplies.  I have bins and boxes of fabric and patterns.  I have ink and stamps and markers and dominoes everywhere.  And try as I might, it's like I can never get the space organized.  Part of the problem is that I don't have storage for some of the stuff that would allow it to be accessible.  The other part of the problem is that I simply have too much stuff, and that frustrates me, so I just tend to avoid having to deal with it.  And it's really bad.  Anyone who's seen it in recent months could verify that it's a mess, that there's too much stuff, and that it's probably hazardous, for some day I'm going to trip on something, I just know it.  And it's such a shame because I have this great space that I'm not using.  I'm convinced that if I could get organized and maybe get another table, I'd spend more time creating and that, consequently, I'd be happier.  It's so frustrating, and I don't even know where to begin.  Arrgh!

Ruminating on Feminism and the Third Wave and Marriage

Ok, I know this is a topic that I keep rehashing here, but it's because I keep rehashing it in my head.  I've been really trying to decide what it means for me when I say that I'm a feminist.  And really more to the point, can I be a feminist and really like crafting and glittery eye makeup?  Some might say no.  The third wavers might say yes.  I'm becoming increasingly frustrated over this topic, and I don't know why.  But I'm ready to throw up my hands, quit my job, and get pregnant.  Just kidding.  What I'm discovering more and more is that being single, living alone, not having the kind of support system that might come from a partnership is really difficult.  And I wonder if single men feel this way.  I mean, I certainly don't fool myself into thinking that all my problems would magically go away if I were married, but it does seem like some of my problems would be easier to face, you know?  And what does this mean about me in terms of feminism?  I mean, I think that marriage is a wonderful thing, and there are manifold reasons that marriage, as an institution, has stood the test of time.  But is there something wrong or somehow unfeminist of me to believe that at least some things would be easier if only I had the right kind of man in my life?  It all gets very discouraging in that as I get older it seems like there are fewer and fewer options out there; it's harder and harder to meet men whom might interest me.  Ok, so here's where someone is supposed to jump in and suggest eHarmony.  Ha, ha.  Seriously, something about their TV commercials kinda freaks me out, you know?  I mean, it feels too kinda system-ish or something, like they will assign you a quotient and then match you with compatible quotients, and suddenly we're all just numbers.  Actually, just out of curiosity, about six weeks ago, I went to the eHarmony web site and filled out their questionnaire thingy, just to see what they'd say.  And you want to know what they said?  They said that they couldn't help me--mind you, this was after I'd answered any number of crazy questions.  They couldn't help me.  So now I'm an eHarmony reject.  That's Ok, eHarmony, I didn't need you anyway--I feel like the woman scorned or something.  I keep telling myself that if it's meant to be, I'll meet the right man.  I also keep hearing the voice that says, "You just gotta put yourself out there."  I'm never quite sure what that means.  Is it so different from saying "You're really out there."  This digression, of course, is reminding me of Fox Mulder and "The Truth is Out There," which as a kind of zippy tag line, I find quite useful.  I'm going to stop now, as I've wandered away from the proposed topic. 

Thursday Thirteen: Thirteen Things I Never Leave Home Without. . .errr. . .Without Which I Never Leave Home

Was is Master Card that had the "don't leave home without it" ad campaign?  Well, I've been thinking lately about the ridiculous amount of stuff that I feel like I have to tote around with me.  Some of this seems really superfluous but I tend to have this irrational panic that I'll get somewhere and not have the thing I need.

1.  Lip gloss.  OK, this is totally a necessity.  I usually have more than one color in my purse.  One day, I went to a lecture on campus and found that I'd left my pencil case in my office.  But I had 8 different lip glosses with me.  Priorities.

2.  Pencils and pens in a variety of colors.  In spite of once arriving at a lecture without a writing implement, I normally carry around a couple of pencils and, maybe, eight pens.  I like to be able to color code things.  Plus, you never know when you'll need to write, which leads me to. . .

3.  Several notebooks.  I carry a tote bag that always has at least three notebooks in it, usually five or six.  I love the old school marble covered composition books.  And I have different notebooks for different things.  One's a general journal.  One's my monthly budget (really high tech!).  One's devoted specifically to lists of different sorts.  I know it's kinda OCD of me, but I feel like I need to have at least some of my notebooks with me at all times.

4.  A book.  I often think that the single most useful thing I learned in graduate school is to take a book everywhere one goes.  If I'm stuck in a waiting room or in my office or wherever, I can always read.

5.  My iPod.  This one is self evident, no?

6.  My blue turtle beady buddy.  Maybe about 10 years ago, beady buddies were all the rage with the younger set. My brother made me one, and I promised to carry it with me always.  Hence, it's always in my purse or my school bag.

7.  Cell phone.  Again, self evident.

8.  Library card. 

9.  Hand cream.  Really, when don't you need moisturizer.

10.  A spare pair of socks.  Yes, I always keep those in my tote bag.  Again, you just never know.

11.  A variety of stickers.  I am especially fond of Hello Kitty and company.

12.  The instruction booklet for my pedometer.  I'm not sure why this is in my tote bag or why I never take it out.

13.  My tiny, purse size mirror with the Wife of Bath on the back.  This is a momento  from the Huntington Library where the Ellsmere manuscript is housed.

A New Pic of Mama's Baby Boy

Ok, ok I know that I kinda go overboard with the doggie pics.  But here's a new one of Fenway.  I just think he's such a handsome guy.