But Call Me Betsy

Liz and Luke are at my house right now, staying over so that we may celebrate the New Year by going to a party in Fishtown with C & P. I had a little time this morning to write the last pages of my current notebook, something I really wanted to finish b/c Jodie bought me this nice, new, big journal (and a DVD player. Thanks, my bitch), and so I ended up writing about the important or significant events of the last 12 months; working at Drexel, new regular writing gigs for two publications, the summer of dating two people at once and getting migraines from it, the fact that no one I know or love died this past year (the most shocking death for me was the suicide of David Foster Wallace. And I didn't even attempt to read Infinite Jest), that I didn't get ill or sustain any physical injuries, that I didn't get any more cats or incur additional debt. In fact, this has been my most financially prosperous year to date, and I have made big strides toward paying off my credit ...

Jodie was in last week and she commented on how much trash we have lining the streets of historical and non-historical Philadelphia---pop and beer bottles, cigarette butts, diapers, the weird random white tennis shoe, a syringe, a penny. Not ALL of Philly is like this but A LOT of Philly is. My street is no exception. How does this happen? you might wonder. First, it's because you have lots of renters who don't take pride or ownership in their place (I am guilty of this--it's not like I sweep my front step every day) and second, I have seen many, many city dwellers just drop their shit on the ground. You could blame this in part on the fact that we don't have a lot of city trash cans around or the fact that we are lazy mo-fo's. I saw a man do this today while waiting for the Market Street line. He had a piece of paper that he just let flutter from his fingers onto the subway tracks. Yeah, hey, who cares, right? Why bother to walk the twenty feet to the garbage can w...

My new Maven piece is up. If you're an ardent, ardent follower of the blog, you've seen this before b/c a version of it was briefly posted as an entry here. I wrote it this summer at the Rosemont College writing retreat. It's called " How to Become a Slut: Part I" (Part II will appear in January). If I have time this afternoon, I'll post my South Philly window photos...

Okay, so another feature of this i-touch thing is that you can download books to read on it for very little $ and so I took advantage of this feature and bought a set of mysteries to read, including one called The Circular Staircase, an Edgar Allan Poe piece, and a Sherlock Holmes mystery, among others. I wanted to see if I would actually read the things or if I had misused my $3. I actually have been reading them while on the subway, though somewhat self-consciously--feeling slightly over-gadgeted. You know, who needs her book to be on a device? Why not just bring the book? At the same time, the story I'm reading is pretty engrossing, so I enjoy it and often wish I could read it while walking down the street. This is dangerous though, so the other day, I thought, Why don't they invent a book that you can read while you're walking? For a little while, I was thinking, Yes, genius, that would be great, and it would also be fabulous if you could continue to read while you'...

Another scintillating topic, I know. Here is how exciting my life is: most nights, I go home, listen to NPR for two hours while on the computer, maybe make something to eat from a box (I am happy to stir a spoon in hot water or push buttons on the microwave, but I don't really like the idea of any other kind of preparation to make a meal), and then turn on the TV at 8 and work on one of these holiday projects I've got to get done in the next 72 hours. At 8, really the only thing going is House or one of the Law and Order's . I usually pick House because I love the Hugh Laurie character (though I do wish they developed more plot lines where he was romantically interested in someone. I know this goes against his cactus-y persona, but it would still be nice). And I hate commercials, so usually, I'm not just watching this one show, I'm watching House and sort of watching another show for two minutes in between the ads. The in-between shows are mostly all reality pro...

Word on the street/suite at work is that people here tend to buy each other presents for the holidays. I decided this weekend to get all of that taken care of and to do it in an assembly line style. There are 6 people in my immediate area. I bought everyone some little individual gift (small stuff like coffee or Burt's Bees stuff or a journal) and then burned CDs with my favorite holiday songs on them, then worried that maybe it's not appropriate to include Marilyn Monroe's "Santa Baby" or Bright Eyes' slightly painful-sounding"Blue Christmas" or--okay, here's the list. Two of the songs are unattributed, but what can you do; didn't have time to research them. Let me know if you want me to make you one a holiday mix too. It's easy: Santa, Snow and Reindeer Glow, 2008 1. Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow! –Frank Sinatra 2. Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)—Death Cab for Cutie 3. Santa Baby—Marilyn Monroe 4. O Come, O Come, Emmanuel—Bel...

Behold Frosty in neon lights, which ironically, would melt Frosty. Santa and another Frosty who looks as though he's about to doff his hat. He seems to be a bit of a British Frosty. You can imagine him saying, Cheerio, Father Christmas! A window filled with Santas. I don't know why a person would buy a statue of a Labrador Retriever to display on his/her front doorstep, but if you are going to have one, you might as well decorate it for the season. Little doll girl whispering to a reindeer. I kind of hate this window and love it at the same time. I'm not a fan of Disney characters, but you have to give these people credit for going all out. I mean, look, they have made floating Mickey Mouse heads out of styrofoam balls. This is just an elaborate display of gold and silver and the little baby Jesus. Okay, this is out of sync, but it's the window of a nursery school place that I would've loved to go as a kid. Tons of toys and books and dolls and fun stuff. You sort ...

I've been meaning to post these few pictures from Friday night's girl happy hour...Celia is usually the photographer at these events and there would have been more photos, except she had given blood that day and started to feel vomituous after two beers. We went to Mantra again and the same waitress was there, Brie, though she had dyed her hair a darker brown. She seemed to remember us--recalled that we'd left her a stack of quarters as a joke, so that was nice. In any case, here's lovely Ann with her stigmata. And Irina, not wanting to get her photo taken. You may recall she exhibited similar hostility in the previous photo shoot . She (and others at the table) had had a pretty difficult week. And Celia, a bit wan but otherwise cute as ever. Minutes after this photo was taken, she disappeared into the bathroom and when she returned, she said she had to leave. We really do need to plan another night out soon rather than waiting four months between seeing each other. Oh...

Last night, I went to this lecture about urban sustainability and landscape with Carrie and this other dude at some random warehouse in Fishtown. I had no expectations, except that I thought it might be interesting to learn a little more about saving the planet somehow. Unfortunately, the building we met in, though cool in an Andy Warhol aesthetic, didn't have any heat. And then secondly, the first person who lecture was very nervous and not at all a public speaker. He kept pausing....These really long....painful...pauses. The longest pause was 21 seconds. I counted. Carrie said later that she had to turn around to look back toward the projector at him because she thought he had narcolepsy and was possibly asleep on his biodegradable laptop. The only real sustainable thing I learned was that if I contorted my body, I could manage to keep from suffering from hypothermia, but just barely. It also occurred to me that I don't fit in with hippie hipsters (a particular brand of hipst...

I love how every magazine/blog/newspaper/radio program etc. now features ways to tighten your belt this holiday season and how many of these ideas are either (1). still too expensive ( Oprah magazine, for instance, has a list of gifts under $100 that offers suggestions like $90 stationery, $89 bath oils and $99 chocolates made by dwarves ). (2). kind of weird or (3). d.i.y. projects that would require you to quit your job to even have a chance to finish them before next Christmas. Here are a few of my ideas for super saver gift-giving this year: 1. A bag of cat fur. Save up all the cat fur that is shed over the next few weeks (in my case, about 2-3 pounds). Bag it in fun holiday bags and add festive index cards with suggested uses for it (pillows and/or cushions, could also add it to a regular sweater you're knitting and pretend it's angora). 2. If you are a woman, save all of your tampon applicators, decorate them with markers or paints, and give to children to use as telesc...

Paul Skoles and Piper were fairly well-behaved except when Paul Skoles licked the top of the pumpkin pie. And the butter dish. And then turkey. John McGovern, law school student extraordinaire. Carrie and Ionia laughing at something. Piper grooming Paul Skoles. He likely needed it. Miss Carrie! Padhraig preparing the butternut squash with walnuts that I declined to eat. He called me fussy. That was the second time in a week that someone said I was fussy. I don't think I am! Seems so innocent. The spread. How about a list of things so I don't have to go through each day: 1. Best thing about Thanksgiving: this delicious key lime pie that Carrie's friend Sarah made with a heavenly meringue topping (though there was also some debate about it one should put meringue on a key lime pie). We also played Charades (who do you think forced that on everyone?) and almost every single one of Padhraig's choices included a cat, so that he could just point to either Piper or PS wit...

I'm not sure what to do with today. Will be going over to Carrie and Padhraig's, but that's not for a few hours. I didn't really sleep in today--I perhaps need a new hobby. Or a baby. I told A. that if I got the Pew Fellowship, I'd use it to buy a baby just like Angelina Jolie. I think that's why people have kids, in part, out of the boring sameness of every day and then as a reason to keep waking up in the morning, a way for their life to be meaningful. Like, as long as their kid turns out okay, doesn't kill himself and others in a drunk driving accident or go on a shooting spree, if he just grows up to be a responsible adult, then life will have meant something. Does it matter that my cats are well-adjusted and friendly? (Well, and that's not entirely true. Henri still sometimes runs from me and only just got used to a guy being over occasionally. He did show himself when Liz was here a few weekends ago, which I thought was so cute. He remembers her!)....

Many awesome windows in South Philly and they will only get awesomer as the holiday descends. Below, please find a snow person on the verge of giving a Bronx cheer. And then a pull back to reveal the entire window--Santa cavorting on the other side. Teddy bears are big in South Philly. This is a "click me" type photo so you can see it better. It's decorated to celebrate someone's wedding. Pretty autumn window. The two windows below are from the same house. Both are almost nice enough to qualify them for the Marshall Field's/Magnificent Mile holiday window extravaganza in Chicago. I think this family did sort of the same thing last year, but this seems like a lot of work--gigantic ornaments, lights, dolls, presents... Ma and Pa bear wishing you a very happy Thanksgiving.

These little girl and boy plastic pilgrims are quite popular. I have managed to capture two window displays using them. I like the attempt at symmetry here with the Phillie flags also in each upper pane. Devil dog peeking out of the window panels. I bet he sits there for hours during the day. On my block, I believe we have one dog owned by this hipster couple across the street from me. I am not complaining...It's better to have none than to have a bunch of barking Chihuahuas. Happy bus. Clearly, someone has time traveled from 1965. Elaborate Thanksgiving extravaganza display. Lights, turkeys, scarecrows, dead wreaths--everything you could ever associate with fall and abundance/death. Pilgrims Progress again. I remember in elementary school that we made little cylindrical place settings of pilgrims just like these out of construction paper. I don't remember hearing much about the Native Americans. In third grade, my sense of history ran something like: God created worlds, Jesu...

Omigod, Brooklyn Liz sent me a link to this site where you can see what your high school year book picture would look like if you were born in a particular year. It's called Yearbook Yourself . Here I am in 1972, 1960, 1990, 1954, and 1964 respectively. 1972 turned out the best, though think I look slightly retarded. 1960 doesn't quite fit, but you could see how a bob just doesn't fit my face and 1990 is not far from how I looked in high school. In 1964, I appear a bit African American or Asian or some other ethnicity. Don't you think?

Re-re-re-realized the other day that I've been keeping a blog since 2002 and probably a year or two before that time because I used to have a xanga blog in the very, very beginning. The earlier blog(s) I wrote in even more sporadically than I do now--like maybe a few times a month. Lately, I haven't felt much like keeping up with writing here, even on the weekends when I have the extra time. I still write in my journal most mornings for fifteen minutes or so, and I used to make lists of blog post ideas at the conclusion of those entries, but I just don't feel like it so much anymore. Maybe it's cyclical and I'll come back to it soon. It is gratifying and interesting to me to go back and read old posts, you know, from when I lived in State College, especially since I have such a spotty memory and so can be surprised again and again by the same information (in fact, in another couple of months, you'll probably see another post that reads, Gee, I've been keepi...

I have long thought that there must be some reason I pay $60 a month to watch TV, though before this weekend, I couldn't tell you what exactly the reason was...I don't watch any of the network shows--can't stand the crybaby face of Meredith on Grey's Anatomy and don't find Desperate Housewives with its cloying voice over narration to be anywhere near as clever as it thinks it is; don't have the patience for the humorlessness of CSI and, though I do like Hugh Laurie in House , they haven't seemed to run any new episodes in the last two years. But then this weekend, I happened to catch an episode of It's Me or the Dog on Animal Planet. Dumbest title for a show ever, but it's so a sweet little premise--this slight British woman with a long ponytail and bangs comes into houses and teaches dog owners to manage their pets and all of the peace and harmony is restored in the house. It's like Supernanny for dogs. I watched three episodes in a row, whi...