Archive: September 2008

When I was young, we used to go to a tiny, local library to check out books.  The historic brick building was on an old country road, not particularly near anything, and it had a distinct haunted-house air about it.  As I recall, the main floor was all “grown-up stuff,” and it was musty and dark with an appropriately stern librarian at the desk.  I always ducked downstairs to the cheery children’s section in the basement.  The windowless expanse of books was a little paradise for me; it was where I got my first library card, signed up for the summer reading challenges, and logged my achievements with the All-of-a-Kind Family and the Boxcar Children.

There was a circle of small chairs and bean bags, but I usually set up camp on the floor in front of the shelf with my favorite author at the time: first Beverly Cleary, then Roald Dahl, then Katherine Paterson, and then Madeleine L’Engle.  For such a small library, the book selection was really excellent, and when my mom was done rooting out the books she needed for her latest project or interest, she would find me sitting Indian-style on the carpet, engrossed in the adventures of Ramona Quimby, the BFG, the Great Gilly Hopkins, or Meg Murry.  I was always a little sad to have to choose my books for the week and leave the others behind, but I knew I’d be back.

Once high school set in, I only visited the school library occasionally, and my busy schedule made trips to that childhood library a thing of the past.  In college, the library was only a place for last-minute, serious cramming, and even though I liked the architecture and being in the building, I associated it with feelings of anxiety and helplessness.  The allure of the library had dimmed, and I built up a nice relationship with online retailers.

JG and I have lived here for almost three years, but I have dragged my feet about joining the local library.  It’s not far from us, but it’s on a one-way street that only has street parking, I didn’t think I could get there during business hours, it looked awfully small, I had a ton of books on backlog that I still had to read — basically, I had a litany of lame excuses as to why I hadn’t gotten a library card.  I perceived just enough inconvenience to keep me away.

Then I bought the last book club book and thought it was just so-so.  I sadly added it to the “to donate to the used book store” pile and looked up the next one online.  Eleven bucks for the privilege of having a shiny, new copy of a book that I might not even like!  Kind of a raw deal, I thought.

Yesterday, I put two quarters into a meter at the parking garage and walked two blocks to the library.  Right away, the visit dashed my misconceptions because the library is open during the evening on most days and there’s a free parking lot in the back, so there really was no excuse for my dallying. I went up to the desk to ask about getting a library card, and I was astounded when I learned how the county’s online system worked.  I can get e-mail reminders of when my items were due!  I could renew and reserve things online!  I could arrange for books at other libraries to be sent to my local one!  I even got a handy little card for my keyring!  The library had come a long way since I sat on the floor in that old brick building back home.  I put a reserve on the next book club book (for free!) and walked back to my car with a spring in my step.

It’s good to be back, library.

On Saturday morning, I set off for a bridal shower at a restaurant about forty minutes away.  I zoomed along for 25 minutes, but a half-mile before my exit, there were signs for delays.  The right lane was closed, but I didn’t know another way to get to my destination, so I decided to wait it out.  I was still running on schedule, and I doubted that all of the girls would get to the shower on time.  It would be fine.

It was not fine.  I was sitting in a line of crawling traffic.  I kept glancing at the clock and calculating my tardiness; I was going to be ten, fifteen, thirty minutes late!  The worst part was that I could see no reason for the right lane closure.  There was absolutely no work happening on our side of the road, and the entire road was closed in the other direction.  Up to that point, the only signs of work were on the other side: five cement trucks rumbled by, two construction workers stood around and talked, and another worker drove by in a pick-up truck.  I counted.

Finally, after almost an hour of traffic, we got our multiple lanes back, and I skidded into the shower an hour after it started.  I was mortified, the bride was needlessly apologetic about the roadwork, and I had missed all of the icebreaker chitchat in the beginning.  No matter.  I was there.

I got an alternate route for the way home to avoid the closed road, which I immediately messed up.  All of a sudden, I realized that — oh no! —I was heading into the world of traffic cones and orange signs, and I panicked.  I quickly checked my blind spot to scoot over to a right-hand turn lane, but there was a red sedan there, so I halted and turned on my turn signal.  Right behind me, the driver in a huge gray pick-up pressed down his horn, and the long, angry blare echoed through my struggle to move over.  When I managed to change lanes, the truck pulled up next to me, and I set my jaw, determined not to make eye contact and increase my embarrassment.  I was wholly unprepared when the driver screamed at me, “Learn how to drive!”

Survival mode set in and I pulled into the back of a parking lot to regroup.  My hands were shaking as I reached for my phone to call JG to redirect me, but my purse had flipped over in the tumult.  I dumped it out, frantically groping for the phone and hoping it hadn’t disappeared into a crevice in the car, and I finally found it on the floor on the passenger seat.

“I messed up my directions and almost caused an accident,” I said, “I’m kind of shaky right now.”

“It’s okay.  Just pull over.”

“I’m in the parking lot of a Sam’s Club.  Can you get me back to the highway?”

“Yeah, hang on.  Are you okay?”

Deep breath, deep breath.

JG repeated, worried, “Are you okay?”

Then the floodgates opened, and I burst out sobbing over my steering wheel.  The whole day had been stressful and I didn’t want to drive home or ever again and I was sure I’d get lost or that someone would yell at me and I just wanted to be home and not in this car.

When the torrent was spent, I dried my eyes and picked up pen and paper to take down JG’s directions.  The drive home was uneventful, thankfully.  The highway was fairly empty, and I contemplated what transpired. I fully acknowledged that my escape maneuver was ill advised and very unsafe.  It wasn’t my only option, and if I had been thinking, I could have avoided the closed road with a lot more grace.  But still.  I do my share of indignant gesturing, and I might honk someone, but surely the sheer meanness of that other driver was unwarranted.  The image of the truck’s hood bearing down in my rear view mirror and the utter humiliation of being reprimanded so viciously reverberated in my head.

And then I got stuck in traffic again, twice.  When I finally got home, I curled up on the couch.

Deep breath.

#81

Since school started, I’ve taken the lead in meal planning because I have the time to do it.  I’m also the Master Calendar Keeper, so any meals need to conform to that schedule, anyway.  For a couple of weeks, I e-mailed JG the events for the week and my ideas for who would cook what, and he responded with his revisions.  I printed out the plan and put it on the fridge, and we created the subsequent shopping list.  Nice job, team.

Then I started wondering about a more long-term solution that would allow me to not only exchange meal suggestions with JG, but also track the frequency that we ate certain items, the cooking division of labor, and grocery bills.  If we’re in the position to cut back on our spending, our monthly food bill is definitely an area where we can afford to scrimp, but we won’t have any data on that point unless we start collecting it now.  Of course, I had no choice but to make a spreadsheet and, and subsequently, hit a new low.  Or high, I guess, depending on one’s perspective.

My spreadsheet helps to address a lot of my needs, especially being able to share the document with JG and tweak electronically as the week progresses.  I have a slot to plug in this Saturday’s grocery bill, and I’ve noted that Wednesday’s frozen chili dinner only produced one serving of leftovers.  Even so, making the transition from week to week and having a historical account of what has happened is clunky. I know I’m trying to create a database from a series of tables, which is never graceful.  In an ideal world, I would like a piece of software or an online interface that would:

• Sync with my calendar
• Allow me to drag and drop recipes into certain days of the week with the day’s events and notations visible
• Have a separate menu option for party planning or mass production
• Contain a searchable database of recipes, including the cookbooks I have at home, online sources, and allow me to import recipes from other sources
• Allow me to tag recipes that are favorites, easy, or create a lot of leftovers
• Automatically populate a grocery list that I can sort by grocery store section (produce, dairy, meat, etc.), recipe, and day of the week
• Archive my meal plans from previous weeks and provide trending information on frequency of dishes made and ingredients bought
• Keep account of grocery bills over time, including a notes section for unusual purchases or stocking staples

Of course, there are a few sticky logistical details to hammer out, like getting all of the recipes from every single source, granting licensing permission, and coding each ingredient, but just go with me, here.  Are there any programmers out there who want to make my meal-planning, recipe-filing, personal finance-tracking life more efficient?

What’s that?  I’m thinking too hard about this?  Oh, fine.  My spreadsheet and I will just carry on with planning for the week after next, thank you.

Mission: Put Together is back for a fantastic fall edition!

In two weeks, OPH and I hope you’ll take on the challenge to be PT every day in October and post  photographic proof to the M:PT photo pool.  Plus, we’re excited to unveil fancy new headquarters and buttons!

As with the M:PT challenge in May, the photo pool is NOT intended to be:

• A forum to criticize others
• A source of pressure to appear to be 100% on the ball 100% of the time
• A motivator to go out and spend a lot of money

However, we do want the pool to be:

• A way to share and gather fashion tips
• A motivator to be thoughtful and creative with everyday looks
• Fun!

OPH and I want everyone to have fun with the photos and re-energize that community of comments, but for this round, we want to channel the massive amount of positive feeling from this project.  In May, there were over 34,000 views on the photos, and almost 2,900 comments!  What if that energy went toward the greater good?  This time, think of it as Put Together with a Mission!

• The main charity we’d like to support is Dress for Success, whose mission is to “to promote the economic independence of disadvantaged women by providing professional attire, a network of support and the career development tools to help women thrive in work and in life.” DFS really is M:PT! Donations of professional attire can help women gain confidence to return to or join the workplace, and financial contributions support the organization as a whole.
• In a more general way, we want to encourage M:PTers to purge closets and donate to their nearby Goodwill or Salvation Army. Oh, it’s painful to give up sentimental clothing items, but take a picture of your dearly departed pieces and we will commiserate with you!
• For even more fun photographic evidence, consider parting with your beloved prom dress with local affiliates of DonateMyDress.org.  As their website says, “Once you’ve had your dream night, you can give another girl hers!”
• If you choose to donate clothing and/or money, let us know! Your individual contributions will never be disclosed, but we would love to share how many shirts, pairs of pants, and dollars went toward a good cause this month.

That said, we want to be firm in saying that M:PT is not a back door into your wallet.  We want to enjoy the pool without imposing pressure to donate, so if all you do this month is post pictures, that is completely fine.  Really!  Just think, though — wouldn’t it be great if something really big and positive came out of it?

Anyway, OPH and I are looking forward to seeing everyone who takes on the challenge to be PT and have fun doing it while you keep the following housekeeping items in mind:

• If you don’t have a Flickr account, e-mail your photos to me or OPH with any notes or description, and we’ll submit them for you.
• M:PT extends beyond the work day!  Show us your looks for tailgates, trips to the pumpkin patch, hayrides, and apple-picking!
• Yes, Halloween is the last day of M:PT.  Regardless of what that means for your workplace or your evening plans, please keep it clean in the photo pool, okay?

Spread the word —  M:PT is coming!  Bust out those corduroys, coats, sweaters, and scarves!  Fall is my very favorite season for fashion (and food!), and I can’t wait to see how everyone rings in the chill in the air.  See you at the pool on October 1!