Random (Mid)Summer Thoughts...

The Scapegoat book club I had hoped to form with the girls has been unanimously shot down. "I know where this is going, Mother...it's about the messy living room...you know whose fault it is..." Fine. I'll read it to them.

An example of my life of irritation: My prayers go out to God and his saints for the Pope and his ailing wrist. People get that wrong a lot. If I were shot dead in the street tonight, some well meaning soul would blather to Channel 9 News that his prayers go out to my family. Right. Keep on praying to my family. I can't even get most of them to remember to empty the dishwasher, but maybe you all can have better luck.

While our thoughts are on the Pope and our prayers are going out to heaven...Do you wonder if anyone gets to sign his cast?

All this Cash for Clunkers stuff I hear is offensive. Does anyone consider that some people drive older cars because that is what they have for transportation? I'm not driving a '94 Jeep Cherokee whatever (correct me here, Fran, I can never remember exactly what we drive) because I want to bollix up the world with my clunker. It's my car. I paid cash for it. It is well maintained and it gets us to church, Target, WalMart and other necessary locations. It is what it is and we're happy to have it. Don't call it a clunker.

The 23 Quadrillion at the Quickee Mart guy makes my accidental near payment of 1,200.00 to North Shore Gas look paltry. Luckily I caught my error in time so I wasn't in 23 Quadrillion's position of having to negotiate a refund of my overdraft fee.

Two and a half foot African Savannah Monitor just miles from my house. On the prowl for weeks? Finding that would put me off of gardening forever. African lizards aren't supposed to be prowling this area. That's why we like living in the topsy-turvy climate of the Great Lakes region. That's why we rejoice in January.

First Things online survey of religion at America’s colleges and universities sounds interesting. I could not participate. There was no place to rant about one's alma mater being "out of business" and the Madames of the Sacred Heart having started running the place off the rails back in their polyester pantsuited heyday.

Dress for the Job You Want. Or the job you have. It's all the same here. When I was at the ALA conference, I saw two women wearing the same (albeit different colored) dress that I wore to work yesterday. Last night Martha invited me to go along with her to Half Price Books. I must have been looking a bit morose because the family not only actively encouraged me to go, but also pressed some cash into my hands with a, "Get yourself a little something." And it helped. Even though I haven't integrated all of my ALA freebies into my shelves*, book shopping had a tonic effect.(I caught you knockin' at the bookstore door / I love you, baby, can I have some more?) A man asked me where to find the legal books and I told him where I thought they were, along with the disclaimer that I didn't work there. He thought I did. Must be the dress. A bookish dress. I can take a hint.

*still looking for good, cheap bookshelf for my bedroom. Then I can give Lilyanne my dainty one-of-a-kind mini-hutch and get my room organized. If our place were only a foot bigger in all directions, there would be no problem.