Bibliophile

In kindergarten, I failed to learn my alphabet in a timely fashion and there were those (aka my teacher and grandmother) who worried something wasn't quite right with my brain. They may have had some slim reason for concern as I had been quite ill the previous year and hospitalized with pneumonia. Nowadays, docs reassure over-anxious parents such as myself that high fevers do not actually delete brain cells . . . but moving on. The summer leading up to 1st grade found both of my teacher parents toiling with me and a set of phonics books. Their hard work and dedication (and my resilient brain cells) persevered and I learned to read. And they'd be the first to tell you that I haven't stopped reading since! 
I thought I'd take you through a tour of the current stacks of books littered about my house. Yes, fascinating, I'm sure. The above pic features one of the piles with actually completed books -- well, one at least. The Irving novel, A Son of the Circus. He's a favorite of mine and this bizarre novel is no exception. The others represent my slightly eclectic tastes these days -- a little Victorian Bronte, spiritual searching and of course, what therapist would be without a book on schizophrenia. 
This delightful stack is currently on my kitchen counter. Did I mention the other was on my dresser? It is. (And one by the bed and another in the closet and a third on yet another dresser. I may have a problem. Do you think there's a 12-step group for obsessive book collecting?). Clearly this stack is all about work "stuff" and rather than continue to bore you with those, I took some pictures of some of my most nostalgic oldies . . .  
Ah, Gene Stratton Porter. She authored the little gem on top of the stack -- Girl of the Limberlost. My grandmother (the same that thought my brain had gone to mush) discovered all three of these volumes in her garage and I hoarded them and read them and have placed them in positions of honor in my bookshelves for over two decades. I'm such a nerd. 
Old books are beautiful. I love the feel of worn pages and soft, used bindings. You kinda want to reach into the picture and thumb through these pages, don't you? You'd enjoy it. I promise! 

The reality is that currently, I keep stacks of books about to remind myself that I do actually intend to read them eventually. I'm afraid to put them away. 'Course truth be told, I'm out of shelf space . . . but if I had the space and I tucked them neatly away, I'd forget I wanted to read them! Probably the best thing would be to quit collecting them to begin with. I should be disciplined - complete one before beginning another. That's what I tell my kids about their toys. That doesn't work either!

This weekend's task, among other things, is to finish Flow. I'm nearly there and then I can tell you all about it;) You know you can hardly wait! 

Back to the Grindstone

Albeit only for 3 days, I'm putting the harness back on and getting ready to dutifully plod my way to work this morning. Being the dutiful worker bee that I am (like how I mix the metaphors?), I've already checked my email and will likely check voicemail in the car . . . its amazing how quickly things can go awry in one week! I'd like to think that little ol' me is holding it all together and my absence constitutes a general falling apart at the seams but that ain't so. More likely, this is the level of chaos that generally exists in community mental health and I'm just stepping back into the current after a little reprieve. Despite my general angst at leaping in fully clothed, I love this job. There's never a dull moment. Each day is unpredictable and the stories I could tell if I could tell them . . . :) 

I can tell you a story about a patient my friend and I overheard while waiting in the ER. If you have a thing about spiders, prepare to be eeked out. This gentleman stumped his way into the ER with a full leg cast that had some serious damage. It looked like someone had first taken a saw to it and then desperately went about trying to rip the durn thing off with his hands. When asked by the solicitous nurse what brought him into the ER today, he said, and I nearly quote: I woke up about twilight and saw a HUGE spider crawling into my cast. I think he bit me. I feel light headed. My friend and I exchanged horrified glances and spent the rest of our visit wondering what exactly had occurred, whether they would find a spider inside the cast and really, what would we do in a similar situation. I'd like to think that I'd remain calm (not so likely) and drown the sucker with a hose. Don't you think that's work? I mean, the cast is coming off anyway. My husband is less optimistic about my ability to problem solve with a spider camping in my leg cast -- he thinks it's more likely that I'd follow suit with the saw or whatever tool came handy to my hand. 

In other news this morning, we are only 3 days away from our trip!!!! Suitcases are out and partially packed, lists are being checked, anticipation is building. Tomorrow I get me a fake spray tan. Hey, I'm a little vain and I'd like to wear my swimsuit without perpetually asking my husband if he thinks I'm fat. Now there's an entirely different blog entry! 

Cheers and happy Tuesday!

Mini Saga #2 -- Baby "Six"

Baby "Six"

Little Sis opened the Christmas package to find a new baby doll. Nana asked what the baby's name was. "Six," said Sis and the name has stuck. Big D commandeered another baby doll that he insists is "Seven." Where are "One," "Two," "Three," "Four" and "Five?" No one is talking . . . 

Mini Saga #1 -- "Pets"

Going back to the book I discussed yesterday, A Whole New Mind, and the 6 senses the author describes . . . You're on the edge of your seat, aren't you:) He describes "story" as an integral means of understanding our world and our experiences. He makes the case that "facts" and "details" are easily managed in our electronic age but that narrative still relies upon our human creativity. Story is not merely objective but also subjective, putting the details into the context of emotional experience. This harkens back to the idea of universal myths -- hero stories and the like. 

This strikes a chord with this defunct high school English teacher and I am inspired to try the exercises he recommends for developing my own sense of "story." Well, I should add the "story" is integral still in my profession -- I listen to and help clients rework their own personal narratives, discovering their strengths and innate abilities to craft a life that is whole and healthy and happy. But I think I am ready to explore more of this "story" ability by writing my own little, mini actually, stories. 

The goal is to write an entire story in 50 words . . . . so here goes my first!

"Pets"

Big D found two adventuring earwigs and made them his pets, dubbing them Charlie and Crystal. He fed them applesauce and stared forlornly at them in their glass cup, complaining, "Mommy won't let me have a dog." Reluctantly he freed the near dead bugs into the backyard grass. Farewell bug pets.