But Call Me Betsy

Look, it's a coffee shop and so people should be allowed to engage in conversation. Right? It's not like we're at a library. If I were in a restaurant with other people, I wouldn't necessarily hear other people's conversations because I would be involved in my own. But...I don't really want to listen to two people hold court on the state of education for children today. Large woman with two colored hair, a black lace shirt, and a matching fat baby: "I definitely encourage you to um...think about how if a child's behavior is negative over and over, something is reinforcing that." Thin man, black knit cap, blue camoflague pants, long shaggy goatee and moustache, blue bracelet like tattoo on his wrist, and small round glasses. HATE HIM: "I am really interested in the possibility of pursuing an educational resource for small kids." (Sips coffee). That's not the best example of the dialogue, b/c I'm just typing what they're sayi

That is because of this well-known phenomenon known as "New Year's Resolutions" wherein you make a list of all the things you'd like to improve or things to stop doing or start doing or do more or less often. I tend to do well with resolutions when they are fairly manageable. For instance, I have kept three promises to myself, all having to do with personal hygiene and health. I now take a multi vitamin every day, wash my face with soap, and apply face lotion (this last one is all due to Miss Liz McElroy , who persuaded me to buy Vitamin E lotion in the Body Shop or somewhere. I haven't looked back since and boy is my skin moisturized !). It's the more intimidating promises that I never keep. I believe that every year, I write "learn to cook." The closest I've ever come to meeting that challenge is consistently listing it as something I should do. Meet up with KSK people at Ludwig's last night and I forced them to make their own lis

I took the train downtown with Shawn today and am now sitting in a very orange coffee shop/bank. They have a flat screen TV playing CNN and music that's too loud. The screens of the computers are positioned in such a way that you will have a terrible neck ache if you go past the thirty minute time limit. I'm already starting to experience vertigo. Today reminded me that I wish I still took the train to work. The people watching is great--we saw no fewer than 5 Ali G. look alikes in our car alone (I also saw two different men today blowing snot out of their noses onto the sidewalk. WHY is this okay? Does this behavior have to do with testosterone? I have never seen a woman do this unless she was on the last two miles of a marathon). Another thing about the train is the intimacy of it; public transportation is really the only time you're that close to people you don't know. You can read the titles of the books they're reading, hear the music on their Walkmans, o

How have I survived without writing down the miniscule details of my life? Christmas has come and gone again and I am thankful not to have to hear the incessant sound of holiday music for another 8 months (since radio stations start playing Christmas music immediately after labor day). Among many other things, Mom got me a sewing machine and sewing scissors in a clean metal box. and I promise I will actually try to use it, even if only to make pillows. Shawn bought me a pair of really nice earrings I wanted when we went to the NABR Fishtown auction. He also gave me Amy Sedaris' book, I Like You and will be taking me to get a bra fitting in Manayunk since I don't think I've worn the right size brassiere since I got my first one in third grade (not really. It was sixth grade). I told Amanda about it and she said she went to the same place and warned me not to wear a bra I like to the fitting. When Amanda went, the fitter woman forced her to throw away her comfortable cot

I think we have discovered why this new girl kitty is so friendly. She appears to be pregnant. She has all the signs. She's very friendly, her nipples are starting to appear, she's hungry and sleeps a lot, and she has somewhat of a Buddha belly. She will most likely hatch 2 dozen kittens in our bed while we are at work. I still think she has about six weeks to go though.

I just discovered this morning that I can get to Northern Liberties on my creaky British-made bike from Shawn in less than ten minutes. It's a whole new world over here in Liberties Walk. Fishtown: One coffee shop that serves burnt coffee, has slow service, and plays the same whiny emo music over and over. NL: I'm sitting in Shot Coffee--a clean and friendly place that give you gigantic cups of good coffee and plays contemporary, slightly pop though nevertheless upbeat music. They have a bowl of water set out for the dogs that may visit with their people. Fishtown: Good luck tying your bike up to a dying and lonesome tree. NL: Bike rack. Fishtown: Stray, starved dogs roam the streets in ragged packs. Abandoned cats dart across the road. NL: Just petted the biggest, fattest black dog I've ever seen tied up outside one of the stores. He is obvioulsy too well-fed. Fishtown: Streets and curbs are lined with a thin layer of trash. NL: Wide streets, trees, and clean sidewalk

I am preparing myself for the inevitable growth in my popularity and general fame across the United States and probably also in Germany. It's going to be difficult sneaking out the back of our house, and climbing the fence to avoid the throngs of fans outside of my front door. I have purchased a blond wig, gigantic sunglasses, and a floppy hat--did not wear them out today, as people in this neighborhood are slow to catch on to the latest thing. It's the same old story--person gets book published from small academic press that circulates three hundred copies on obscure Web sites and her life is never the same due to the overwhelming response of the nation. I am in Rocket Cat again, listening to the inane conversation between the barrista (not the mean one; this girl is nice, she's just loud) and a slight bearded kid in a hoodie. The girl is one of those people with a big voice who periodically does something really theatrical liking yelling, Ta-da! when she pulls a bagel o

Got a call on Tuesday afternoon from some woman with a soft Southern accent telling me that I won the Katherine Anne Porter literary prize for fiction. I was like, Oh, that sounds good. I thought she meant that one of my short stories won a prize. I send out work sporadically and so couldn't remember what I'd given them. She said, So your book of short stories will be published by the University of North Texas Press this fall and we'd also like to invite you to give a reading here. I get some prize money and royalties on every book sold. Please buy many, many and give them to your friends and neighbors. As well as entertaining reading, the book can serve as an excellent door stop. The other cool thing is tha I get to pick or suggest my own book cover. It has to be really, really good for all the shallow people like myself who actually do choose books based on their cover. Just an aside: what does the word "japed" mean? I also get to choose a back cover photograph

I am now for sure a person who posts numerous photos of her cat. It's not totally my fault--Shawn continues to take them. I feel bad for Henri, the red-headed stepchild, who is often neglected and made fun of for his fatness. Still, admire the cuteness that is Ernesto.

He was in my old shoebox. I do not have an update for One Tree Hill because Carrie was over last night and we talked and talked. One of the things I did observe in passing is that it's difficult to distinguish the teenagers from the parents. Many times did I wonder why that one blond woman was walking down the hallway in the high school. I first assumed that she was there to attend a PTA meeting, but then she put on a cheerleading outfit and so I guess she's meant to be a student. Perhaps there was a plot line I missed where she was a high school drop-out who decided to pull her life back together at 30 and enrolled in high school. Or maybe she's an undercover cop posing as a student in order to bust the rampant popper problem at the school. I vaguely recall from this episode--oh, yes, now I remember! After replaying the ridiculous events from the final five minutes of last week's show, they opened with a scene from It's a Wonderful Life . For the rest of the time,

I have 14 thousand meetings today. I hate meetings. No one really wants to be there. I also hate doing interviews (and we have one of those today). It's so fake. It's the worst kind of equivalent of a first date without the meal. I hate asking the stupid questions as much as I ever hated answering them: Question: Where do you see yourself in 5 years? Honest Answer: I have no clue. I don't really have a plan at all. I just really want this job so I can make some money. Question: What would you say is one of your weaknesses? Honest Answer: I procrastinate. I like to surf the Web and sometimes feel like work gets in the way of that. Question: What are your strengths? Honest Answer: I can tell you pretty much anything you want to know about Paris Hilton. Question: Why are you interested in leaving your old job? Honest Answer: I'm bored and want to make more money and I hate my boss. Question: Why do you want to work at XXX? Honest Answer: I have no idea. I looked at t

I’m trying to write a story about organ donation and it’s impossible. I know a thousand horrible, engrossing stories from working at an OPO. I could write about a family whose three month old baby died of SIDS, about the hostile doctor who didn’t want to pronounce brain death and about the family on the other end—the family with a baby who needed a heart transplant in the next twenty four hours or would likely die. What else? The twenty year old at a football game who kept ingesting something which he thought was innocuous but what actually contains cyanide. If you were to have maybe ten of these things, you would be fine, but he ate them by the handfuls and died. A teenage who accidentally impaled himself on a sharp instrument trying to stimulate himself by sticking it where it shouldn’t have gone. Dozens of pedestrians and bicyclists who weren’t paying attention or driver’s who were talking on their cell phones and didn’t even see it coming. Drug overdoses, suicides, drive by sho

My friend is dating a guy who is doing almost everything wrong. I came up with an initial list of things that are immediate deal breakers. You must break up with him if he: 1. Refers to sex as "making love." 2. Burns you a CD with love songs on it and a cover he made himself from scratch ("see the paper? I cut down a tree at my parent's cabin and made it. Then I took a newspaper and carefully scissored out the letters to spell 'Our Love is King' and then I Photoshopped the images on top of all of that. I had to buy Photoshop to do it, but it was worth it"). 3. SHOWING UP UNANNOUNCED IS NOT ACCEPTABLE. 4. Says "I love you" before you've known each other a minimum of three months. 5. Buys you jewelry--even if it's a Christmas gift. I'm sorry--guys do not know how to pick out jewelry. In fact, I don't even know how to. Same goes for the following Christmas presents: any type of underwear/bra/nightie (ditto anything uber sexual like

It is probably not fair to snarkily critique a WB show geared toward preteens and it is also probably embarrassing to admit that I even had the channel turned to such a show. However, the other choices included: Some stupid and very aggressive game show led by Captain Kirk, a reality show about fat people, and Jericho which requires that you have been watching it since the season premiere, which I have not. So, while playing Solitaire on the computer, I did have One Tree Hill on in the background. And actually, I faced the same conundrum last week and had it on then too, so I kind of knew what was going on, not like you would need too much background to understand it. Suffice it to say it’s a show about chiseled high school basketball players and their pretty cheerleader girlfriends, all of whom speak and act as though they are thirty-five years old. Well, apparently, the star player, a black haired hunk we’ll call Tyler (or Ty or Ty-Bo), owes money to some older bad guys who want it

We spent the holiday sanding the living and dining room floor. And when I say "we" i really mean "Shawn." I helped move the furniture and pounded the nails into the wood to avoid sparking a fire with the sander, and I helped sweep and sanded for about 15 minutes, but the rest of the time, I sat outside smoking cigarettes and solving Suduko puzzles until it was time to help him move something else. It's back breaking work, especially when you do the edging because you have to crouch over the whole time. Shawn did very well. He wore a mask and kept pretending he was an astronaut by breathing heavily through it (or he might have been pretending to be Darth Vader, I'm not sure). Above is the living room before--not our decor, but the decor of the previous tenants. Below are the floors, half not sanded, and half sanded but with no polyurethane And here is our beautiful new room! And here I am, not working.

We are not going to any family outings this week or weekend in celebration of the pilgrims eating a meal with the Indians after invading their continent closely followed by the subsequent slaughter of thousands of Native Americans. Instead, we are at Rocket Cat right now--Shawn using my laptop to research how to repair squeaky floors and I using the coffee shop computer and procrastinating any fiction writing. Tonight, we have reservations for a prix fixe (sp?) dinner at Astro Plane. You get appetizers, entrees, dessert, and coffee for a mere $36 each. Then tomorrow, we will venture to Home Depot to rent a sander and scary the living BeJesus out of the cats by shaving off part of our hardwood floors. I have this great hardcover home book that tells you how to do almost anything to your house short of building your own out of Lincoln Logs. I "oh" and "ah" over the projects, but can never imagine actually hot-gluing embroidered daisies to a handmade shower curtain,

Shawn has been gone to Syracuse for work since Tuesday and I remember now what it's like to be single. The up side--I get the whole bed. The down side--no Shawn and no one to play with Ernesto and so he walks on my head and chirps in my ear when he wants me to wake up at 8 a.m. Today, he stepped on my face. It worked; I got out of bed. I'm teaching Ernesto to fetch using this little rubbery mouse we bought in CA. I've been reading this book about how baby animals learn, and the author talks about how, with the right reward system and reinforcement, animals can obey commands. She also writes about how animals learn by watching other animals perform tricks. I know this must be partially true because Henri knows how to sit for a treat and it only took me about three times to get Ernesto to do the same. So, Henri was watching me throw this mouse back and forth and watching Ernesto showered with praise when he returned with the mouse, but then I tried to get Henri to go

Not as many hipsters in here today as there usually are. The fashion item for today is men in black knit caps. I spy four of them right now (there are only about a dozen people present). Also a couple of ironically ugly sweaters (I'm hoping they're ironic). My least favorite barrista is here. She never, ever, never smiles, wears a blank, expressionless face, moves with absolutely no sense of urgency so that you wait for a minimum of ten minutes to get a cup of coffee even when there's just one person ahead of you, and uses the least amount of words possible to complete the transaction no matter how nice you are to her: Example: B: Yes? Customer: Could I please have a cup of coffee for her? B: $1.25. I'm sure if she could manage it, she would just stand looking at you until you pointed at what you wanted, thus requiring no real interaction at all. Here's another exchange Liz and I once witnessed with her. (Confused man standing at counter). B: Yes? Man: Uh...how

And I thought we had a connection! I was sure he was going to give me a rose! Here's the extent of our conversation: I was on the floor petting his dog before I knew whose dog it was. The dog was really sweet and just laying there like a fallen deer. Andrew said, Yeah, be careful, he's a real killer. I said, Yeah, he's super aggressive. Then Andrew said something about the tile, how it wouldn't stay up without him or something. That's it. That is my entire brush with faux fame except for later when I asked him what the dog's name is and another time when I mentioned that my notes on the different wines were unintelligible. He said, Well, that's good. That means you're having fun. And yet somehow, it just felt right...It just felt like we shared something meaningful , you know? Luckily, I was au natural--no make-up, ill fitting shirt, baggy jeans, wild hair, and pit stains. I was my real self, the self I never want to be in front of anyone remotely attr

I cannot possibly recount everything we did in California since we went to about 5 kajillion places. Highlights, only in the order upon which I remember them: 1. Aquarium in Monterey . We saw lots of otters frolicking and playing with balls and penguins standing in the faux sun with their beaks in the air. I touched a bat ray and wasn't stung. The most beautiful exhibit had to be the jelly fish--even though they gross me out a little because they are so alien looking. Do they have eyes? Brains? 2. Sea lions. Shawn kept calling them fat Henri's. In fact, any animal we saw that was even slightly fat, he compared to a Henri. 3. Trying on clothes at Buffalo Exchange in the Haight district. I know that is totally lame to go a Buffalo Exchange when they have them here, but I am in love with thrift store bargains, as you know. 4. Seeing the big fat round moon through the telescope in San Fran. 5. HDTV (sorry--shallow again, but we got to watch several episodes of the new Laguna Be

Now we're in Santa Cruz--staying at Zena's friend's house with their two cats and rat named Sparky (?). One cat is a fat gray animal with one blind eye and the other cat is MIA--she's a Henri type cat--very shy and easily upset. Zeus, the gray cat, is a love. I suggested they buy an eye patch for him. My suggestion was not received with much enthusiasm. Zena and I spent most of the afternoon driving down a highway with the ocean and cliffs on one side. I told Zena that I was glad she was at the wheel. She asked me why and I explained that I would surely veer off a cliff if I were in charge. We stopped at a Mexican restaurant where we had good tacos. Okay, now we're leaving for dinner...Tomorrow, Monterey.

What is wrong with me? I like a nice view--I prefer a nice sweeping, star-studded sky with a full moon to, let's say, looking out the window to see a dumpster and a brick wall. At the same time, I am not like Shawn who will climb a hill to see the view of the seven sisters Victorian houses in San Fran or who took 503 pics of the skyline from various angles. I do like a view if it includes animals. We went to the waterfront the other day and stood watching the fat blobby mermaid sea lions bark at each other and bask in the sun on floating rafts near the dock. I could've watched them for a long time. Yesterday, we rented bikes and rode them up the hill to the Golden Gate bridge and then rode all the way across it. That was beautiful and amazing. I wondered before we got on the bridge if you could really kill yourself by jumping in b/c it didn't look all that high, but once we were on top of it, Shawn said, See what I mean? And yes, you look down and the water is a far,

i've not been writing about this vacation at all--we've only been here one night and one day, but I still feel bad about not recording something--not writing down the flight here, the flight where I sat for 5 hours next to a very large woman. The seats are small as it is, but even worse when you're crunched next to Large Marge. Shawn said he felt like he had arms like a brontosaurus, you could only make small arm movements. We made it. Zena picked us up at the airport and then we drove into Berkeley--love that city--lots of hippies, lots of green. Zena showed us the campus and we took an elevator in Barrowes ? Stepped into the elevator with an older man who was seriously irritated by the fact that we pushed the fourth floor button instead of seven. As we exited the elevator, I waved my hands in the air, "omigod, I have so much research to do!" The professor didn't notice. Zena lives in an awesome apartment with hard wood floors and bulit in cabinets. We had

Well, about ten people showed up, maybe 15? Not many. No one wants to come to Fishtown because it's hard to get cabs from our neighborhood and also because Haley lives across the street (my mom e-mailed me today to tell me not to be too specific in my blogs b/c Haley's mom or someone else might read my journal and tell on me. This is why I never write about work or about anything too too personal. Now I am being a defiant daughter). After I saw Padhraig in the coffee shop, we drove to pick up Liz and Luke at the bus station while Shawn went across state lines to buy beer and wine and alcohol to make punch. Then we went shopping for food and for costume ideas and then back to my fav place in the entire world, Circle Thrift. I was making fun of Padhraig b/c when he was claiming he could go as a French aristocrat and lo and behold, he did it. He found a white George Washington wig, a ruffled shirt, a tie, and leather leggings. If we had prizes, he would've won. I'l

We're throwing a Halloween party tonight and I am very excited to see how it is that Shawn and I will be able to stay awake to attend it. Last night, Shawn went to a work happy hour and arrived home promptly at 4 a.m.---a full eight hour work day of drinking and socializing. I was fine with him being gone until about 12:30 when I still couldn't fall asleep and hadn't heard from him since 8:30 p.m. when I called him and he said he'd be home in about an hour. At 2:30, I called his cell phone. No answer. At 3:30, I called him again--no answer again. At 4, he stumbled in, soaking wet because he had decided to walk home from downtown (in the rain) which took about an hour and a half. I was relieved that he wasn't dead (kept thinking, if he had been hurt, who would call me? Would anyone know to call me?), but livid that he was so late and that he didn't call at all and that it kept me up until 4 in the morning, especially since we're having a party tonight tha

You would think I was from small town in the Midwest (well, I am), the way that I behave sometimes in this city--as though everyone is looking out for me and has not intention of bad vibes. For instance, I decided while at Rocket Cat this morning (took today off as a personal day), that I had to go to Circle Thrift next door. But I had a problem--I wanted to return to the coffee shop afterwards but didn't have enough money to buy yet another coffee. The solution? Leave my laptop and jacket on the table and trust that these nice city people won't steal anything of mine. I did a bit of speed shopping at CT (which is quite difficult with everything I must look at, try on, touch, contemplate). I came back here about 35 minutes later--laptop still in place. Still, I don't think it's the best idea to expect the employees/patrons of the coffee shop to watch my stuff. A similar event occurred on Tuesday when I went out with Kelly and Amanda. Since the new stupid smoking ba

We are about to descend into the holiday season in just a few short weeks--sooner, probably, if Hallmark has anything to say about it. The season of cliches, Target, and the little baby Jesus and another year of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, Frosty, the Snowman, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and other slighty terrifying shows produced in the early seventies that continue to return again and again and again, no matter how much you might hate animatron or little green monsters who mistreat their dogs. I suppose they might play Nightmare on Christmas Street or whatever that Tim Burton movie was called, but it seems that the film reels from the olden days will sustain, especially now that all those people who were kids when the TV programs appeared now have kids of their own to watch them with. Here's the thing about Rudolph: I don't like the way he talks. I know he has a problem with his nose, but why does he have to sound like he's stuffed up? Can't he just blow his n

Three nearly identically dressed thin twenty-something guys with brown hair. They are all wearing hoodies , jeans, and sneakers--one with a black knit cap tight against his head. All are artistic and by "artistic" I mean effeminate (cross their legs, gesture with their hands, speak with a certain drawl). We also have a husband and wife and their blue jumper clad eight month old--a bald headed baby boy (also wearing a hoodie ) who is behaving pretty well aside from his persistent " aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh "- ing . Seems like everyone knows everyone here--how do they meet? Should I introduce myself loudly to the room? "Hey, guys, I live just down the street and I like interesting things and will wear quirky clothes on occasion." I could brag about my recent publishing accomplishments even though they are not based on anything I did really recently. Philadelphia Stories is republishing "Wonderful Girl" in their first anthology and I jus

As uttered by some white t-shirted kid on the corner down the street from me last night while I was attempting to watch ER and knitting a sweet little baby blanket (not for me). At first, I thought the noise was coming from the TV (when you knit and watch TV, it's more like listening to a radio program b/c your attention focuses on the task at hand. Most TV shows now don't require a visual component anyway, particularly not ER or Law & Order where the dialogue usually just supplements the action for those viewers who may be really, really dumb or toddlers. Example from last night's Grey's Anatomy : "So you're saying you don't want to have the double mascetomy because you feel guilty about being mad that if you hadn't been breast-feeding, you wouldn't noticed the lump in your breast?" Mom: "Yes! Yes!" (a nod would've been fine, but a nod might be too subtle. Example from any episode of Law & Order: "I get it. You

I blushed yesterday for the first time in about 15 years. As you may know, I have a slight addiction to Sims II, a PC game wherein you basically play life--creating characters who then have to fulfill mundane human needs like eating, sleeping, socializing, going to the bathroom, and having fun--which you fulfill endlessly at the expense of your own appetite/social life/bladder. And because I love my Sims so much, I had to buy the latest expansion pack as soon as I came out (it's about pets. I love pets!). I went first to Best Buy and was looking around at the PC selection but didn't see it. I approached an employee and before I even opened my mouth, he said, Let me guess. You're looking for Sims Pets? That is when I blushed. What was it in my appearance that hinted that I spend a not insignifcant amount of time playing a simulation game most popular with pre-teens? Was it my Hello Kitty purse, my ponytails, or my I HEART THE SIMS tee shirt? They did not have Pets yet. I lef

Or maybe Will did--I'm not sure. I was still asleep, but after they left, I went down to the kitchen to get my own breakfast (a cup of coffee) and saw a skillet out as well as some pepper and a spatula. Being a brilliant deducer of clues, I quickly figured out that someone quite possibly may have fried an egg or two. The other smart thing I accidentally did was to not notice that Ernesto slid out the door some time last night and so consequently, he spent the entire night outside where it was very cold. Hasana spotted him the morning, clinging by all fours on the top half of the screen door. Why was this smart of me? Because now he will never want to go outside ever again. See? Tricky! I'm sitting in Rocket Cat Cafe which is why I'm able to get on-line. Always an interesting mix of people here. Currently, we have a guy with intentional Elvis hair (slicked back, long sideburns. He is being ironic. He also wears Dickies jeans and has a chain wallet), an older man in a Re