Ender's Game - Book of the Month

Sunday night I sent an e-mail to a dear friend of mine with the Subject line: "Curses on you."  The curses was because I had a number of things to get done on Sunday: grocery store, clean house, cook, spend time with cats, spend time with Blair, prepare for the work week, balance my checkbook, exercise, etc.  and none of it got done.

Why? Because I spent all day Sunday reading the book my friend had given me. What is in fact my new favorite book of the moment, Ender's Game.

This is not a new book. I believe the first printing came out in 1977. It's also Sci-Fi, a genre I don't read a lot in. But oh. My. God. SUCH a good book. I was hooked early on and never looked up except to forage occasionally in the fridge for food. Planted myself on the couch and pretty much didn't move from 10 AM on.

I love days like that. I don't have many of them anymore. It's been ages since I've found a book that's had a strong enough hold over me to keep me reading for hours at a time.

So if you like sci-fi, even a little, and are looking for a good read, pick up Ender's Game. You won't be disappointed.

Signature Scent

I like the idea of having a signature scent. A soft smell that lingers in the air after I've left a room. When I was little, I loved how my Yaya's sweaters always smelled of her perfume, even just hanging over the back of a chair. So...yes. A soft, delicate, feminine scent. That's all I want.

As it stands, it's a miracle of God I don't go up in a hail of flames every time someone lights a match around me. That's because everything I own is scented, from my peppermint foot rub to my kiwi leave-in conditioner. My deodorant is "powder fresh," and my toothpaste is mint. My facial scrub smells like citrus and my shower gel is coco-honey. My leg shaving gel reeks of melon while I have the choice of lavender, strawberry, or raspberry body lotion. I gargle with Scope (minty fresh!) and floss with cinnamon-flavored wax. My shampoo is green tea and my body scrub is jasmine. When I run trails, I spray "no-smell" OFF bug repellent on me, (which retains its own distinct odor).

On top of all this, I add perfume. Why? Because I want to smell good.  I've got spicy, tangy, fruity, lavender, soapy, and mild scents. I've also got quite the collection of perfume samples that I will never wear, but they're free, so I have trouble throwing them out. (Maybe one day I'll want to smell like White Linen. Who knows??)

I recently bought Lovely, the new scent by Sara Jessica Parker. It is lovely--very light and effervescent. I wonder though, given the myriad of scents it must compete with, if there's any hope of anyone catching a whiff of Lovely coming off my body and identifying me with that scent.  My fear is that every time my nieces and nephews smell OFF mixed with too-strong strawberry-creme hand lotion, they'll think of their Aunt Dena.  What a sad state of affairs that would be.

Maybe I'll quit worrying about me, and just start spraying my clothes with the Lovely. That way there's at least a chance for someone someday to pick up my sweater and say, "Mmmm."

Just like I did with my Yaya when I was little.

People Watching In Grocery Stores

I ran out the other night to Food Lion to grab some bananas and milk for breakfast the next morning.  In front of me in the checkout line was a young couple with a baby. The baby was barely visible inside the super sized VERY PINK carrier riding at the front of the cart. Pink fabric, pink ribbons, pink bows, pink blankey, pink bottle... it was tempting to lean forward and ask, "So, is it a little boy or girl?"

But the baby wasn't what interested me. It was the parents. So very young. The girl was slightly pudgy in a pleasing way with a cute and good-natured face. She also had an intelligent look about her and if I had to guess I'd say she did pretty well in school. And school couldn't be far behind. I'd be surprised if she were 20.

The husband looked even younger--one of those men who will still look 18 when he's 40. Thin, buzzed blond hair, faded t-shirt, gangly hands and arms that he looked like he didn't quite know what to do with. A slightly surprised look about him, but not sullen looking like so many young kids around here. He smiled shyly but easily as his wife talked with the cashier.  He was also obviously enamoured of his wife, like he couldn't quite believe his good fortune that she was with him and that was actually their baby.

They were buying some cleaning staples, milk, and bags and bags of Roman noodles. There must have been at least 15 different colored bags of noodles the cashier swiped through.

The cashier wished them a good night and they smiled and wished the same back to her, then slowly pushed the cart out of the store, the wife reviewing the checkout list as they went.

I watched them leave. I had a flash of what I imagined their life to look like--sparse, run-down apartment that they're very pleased with because it is THEIRS.  Hand-me down furniture. Wedding gifts or presents or even cards still proudly displayed. A happy life with each other. Excited about their new family, excited to be "grown-ups" with an apartment and jobs and a baby. Still find it fun to wake up next to each other "just like married people."

Will the happiness last or will eating Roman noodles and struggling for money quickly lose its "us versus the world" appeal? I hope it lasts, but the odds are against them. They're just so young. I wanted to wrap them up and protect them--keep their happiness safe.

I'm not going anywhere with this. The couple and their noodles and their smiles have stayed with me, so I thought I'd share. That's all.

Guarding My Office Privacy

Our home office is filled with my stuff. I have a white board filled with article ideas, phrases I heard that I liked and might want to use someday, reminder notes, tasks to be done, etc. I have a huge wall calendar with deadline dates circled in red and mini-completion dates inked in green. I have a stack of books on writing the perfect novel, the perfect query letter, the perfect book proposal (writers are big on the perfect "something"). I have my file folders set up with client names printed neatly on each label. To my immediate left there is a cork board where I have inspirational quotes posted, my 2007 goals for the year (including my monetary goals), a marathon-training schedule, postcards from friends, and websites I might find useful.

In short, to sit at my desk is to get an immediate sense of who I am and what I'm about. Which is why at the moment I'm feeling kind of creeped out based on the fact I let someone else sit in the space.

It's no big deal. Our designer needed to check e-mail and the B&B we had her in didn't have wi-fi. So we offered our computer to her.  Only after she left did it occur to me that my goals for the year were listed in full sight, my half-baked article titles were chalked on the board...

For better or worse, I try very hard to present a "finished" picture of myself to the world, and I am left feeling so unsettled that someone saw "behind the curtain" as it were, to my hopes and not really thought through plans. It gives me a creepy-crawly feeling to think about it.

Anyone else out there private like that? Or do you not care who sees or knows almost anything about you?