Last night Torie and I watched Blades of Glory on TV, a ridiculous way to waste an evening, but some things are like holes you fall into and then you get sucked in completely by Will Arnett and Amy Poehler. It capped a good day, which was a tremendous departure from Angry-and-Depressed-Day-Before, and I have come to a place of deep gratitude for those types of days.
I love having my daughter here at the house, by the way. She’s staying with us only while her husband is in Iraq, but that’s all the way until next October, so I’m soaking in this time gratefully.
I’ll also enjoy the day I have the house to myself again, since I DO so relish walking around at all hours talking to myself, or not talking to anybody at all. I keep thinking that I’ll set up the Spare Oom as a writing room, but the truth is that I’m the type of person who needs to move around a lot in order to keep from feeling stagnant. One week I’ll write at the kitchen table, with natural light pouring in from the big window, the next week on my bed with the heavy curtains drawn. The week after that I’ll be on the couch with the TV on, the sound barely discernible, simply as background.
The day before yesterday my son Jess came by and we all went to Goodwill. I love thrifting and am not ashamed to say so, obviously, since I talk about it incessantly on the blog. Anyway, I had one of those experiences that makes me hope that maybe, possibly, oh wouldn’t it be nice if, there is a God/dess who loves me. I was combing the bookshelves and had been thinking of one book in particular. In fact, I regularly think of this one book whenever I go to used bookstores because I really loved it when I borrowed it from the library and I like to own the books I love. (In case you’re wondering, it’s The House Next Door by Anne Rivers Siddon, her only more-or-less horror novel.) Anyway, I had just been thinking about it when suddenly, b’gosh, there it was right in front of my eyes. So I swooped in on it. Finding that made me happy, but imagine my expanding balloon of happiness when I also found Anatomy of the Spirit by Caroline Myss and – coup de all coups – Finding Your Own North Star by Martha Beck. I’ve wanted to read the former for awhile, but the latter has been on my List of Bald Desire for ages upon ages and the thing is, I absolutely freaking need it right now. That particular Goodwill is like a little pocket of bibliophilic heaven, because that’s where I found Vikram Seth’s A Suitable Boy, as well… another novel I’d been searching for forever.
So, I’ve been deep into Martha Beck’s book and hoo boy, I’m SO EXCITED. The subtitle is Claiming the Life You Were Meant to Live and the entire theme of the book is discerning the difference between the social selves we use in order to get along with other people and the essential selves we generally neglect despite the fact that they represent who we really are. The thing about Martha, who is a life coach and my BFF – seriously, we’re like THIS only she just doesn’t know it – is that she’s not only brilliant but hilarious, so it’s an utter joy to read her books. I have a large stack of library books, thirteen to be precise, to wend my way through and believe it or not the thought actually makes me hyperventilate a little. I don’t think I’m catching on to the essential self idea as quickly as I’d like.
Also, I’m on my bed and I just looked over at our mirrored closet doors, which are open in such a way that I can see only my legs from the knees down, and to tell you the truth, I’m a little freaked out by my bare feet. So that’s what I’d look like if I were dead and laid out on the bed. Hm. Have my toes always… I don’t know… been like that?
Have a great weekend, everyone! Love! xo