Gli Colori

On road trips while Mr. Bibliotecaria drives I like to paint. Here are my beautiful little colors, crying out to be used up in marriage to paper and light.

Paintings to follow... but here is a link to my friend's website, Padre Bruno, from whom I learned to paint...

A Garden

I have a terrible sin to confess--I am constantly envious of those around me with private gardens. I physically ache for a garden, to grow vegetables, flowers, succulents.

I want to play in the dirt with my children, I want to make a special home for birds and insects.

I believe that children and those who care for them should spend at least half of the day outside; but this is difficult for a mama of 2 busy boys and a baby girl. Yes, we constantly visit public parks, the seashore, botanical gardens. And it is good in a way that we can't just plop down in our own little patch--it keeps us out and visiting these beautiful jewels of out cities. California has so many wonderful parks of all sizes, so there is really no excuse to remain in doors.

I guess it doesn't help that The Secret Garden, written by Frances Hodgson Burnett, is one of my favorite books. I've read it so many times as a child and as an adult that I think perhaps it informs and contributes to this ache in me, because I think that a garden is more than just a place to barbeque, but represents a place to discover encounter the Divine and friendship and healing. Obviously there is the Garden of Our Origin, Eden, and then there is Carmel.

I get this same heavy feeling in my chest, from my very favorite part of this Burnett's novel is the first paragraph of Chapter 21. I'll finish with it, this pit of salve for my heart:

One of the strange things about living in the world is that it is only now and then one is quite sure one is going to live forever and ever and ever. One knows it sometimes when one gets up at the tender solemn dawn-time and goes out and stands alone and throws one's head far back and looks up and up and watches the pale sky slowly changing and flushing and marvelous unknown things happening until the East almost makes one cry out and one's heart stands still at the strange unchanging majesty of the rising of the sun--which has been happening every morning for thousands and thousands and thousands of years. One knows it then for a moment or so. And one knows it sometimes when one stands by oneself in a wood at sunset and the mysterious deep gold stillness slanting through and under the branches seems to be saying slowly again and again something one cannot quite hear, however much one tries. Then sometimes the immense quiet of the dark blue at night with millions of stars waiting and watching makes one sure; and sometimes a sound of far-off music makes it true; and sometimes a look in some one's eyes.

Ducks in a Row

I am ready to apply to graduate school. I need to brush up my essay a bit, and e-mail my former boss to make sure it is okay to list him as a reference. But, thanks to Bob at City College SF, I have all my transcripts--except for my record from U. C. Berkeley Extension.

image from here.

This grade isn't posted yet, as I still have to post a story and possibly an essay, but it will surely boost my g.p.a (which should be sufficient, but now that it is time to act I am wondering if a Higher G.P.A. would be better?)


I submitted my FAFSA awhile ago, hoping that if I get my application in on the earliest possible day, I will possible have time to apply for scholarships and grants. I haven't crunched all the numbers, but I hope I can afford school.

I guess it will be good timing as Mr. Bibliotecaria will be finishing school. If he applies to grad school and we have to move north, I can transfer (right?) to the other good library school in Seattle.

I just hope I don't lose my mind. Baby Bibliotecaria will be almost old enough to be cared for by someone else. Ideally Mr. Bibliotecaria will be working from home or have a flexible enough schedule to care for her. Second Son Bibliotecaria will be in school, and of course First Son Bibliotecaria will have school.

I am hoping to be able to handle the maximum amount of units per term.

You can see French the Cat is still in his bed, and Fern Fern sits next to the basket on French's table in his kitchen. There is also a little stack of bowls on the table, and a small red pitcher on the floor beside the sink.

Shake 'n' Pour

Okay, so this post could get kind of hairy. It involves possibly shocking details about the General Mills is Betty Crocker. Are they one person; is this like a trans-gender thing? Don't ask, don't tell.

I was at the large chain store which I affectionately call WhiteWay looking for bisquick-- just regular old Bisquick. I was horrified to see this thing.

It is called the Bisquick Shake 'n' Pour. Note, there was no regular ol' box of bisquick on the shelf next to it--just the betty's pancake mix, which to the untrained eye would appear as a lesser quality product than the tried and true Bisquick. They're actually the same exact thing.

So do they really want to you buy this petroleum product, non-recyclable thing called Shake 'n' Pour, instead of a box of Bisquick? I already have a Shake 'n' Pour: it's called a pyrex measuring cup. Bisquick has reached an entirely new level of slackerdome.

Donnie Darko

Yes it took me awhile to finally see this movie, but I was presently surprised. The theological under/over tones, coupled with dark '80s music and paranoid schizophrenia, Graham Greene --what a winning film!

Several of the plot twist kept me wondering about the movie for awhile, and the lack of scientific reality of the whole time travel concept didn't bother me at all. It isn't really a sci-fi movie at all. It is more of a thought experiment, where one accepts something totally unreal as real for the sake of learning/exploring a greater idea--the nature of sacrifice and well, there is some cool joy division.

Not for children, I still have a hard time looking at rabbits, even after a few days. Rent it today!

I plan to go to school to obtain an mlis from sjsu and become a librarian. this is the occupation of the year 2007.

When telling oldest son this, he asks if I will then wear skirts.

Yeah, right. I totally dig this whole wifewomanmother thing and wearing skirts and modesty, but I need to sprint after two very fast boys--frequently.

Just how are you going to make the escape from the black-hatted via horseback in a skirt? I'm talking survival here.

I try, but my life seems to involve too much danger for skirts and purses. I'm talking survival--so you should always be able to run fast and far, survive all kind of extreme heat and cold, and oh, yeah--

have your hands free to brandish a knife.