Shrink Wrap Your Windows

One of my roommates is a self-proclaimed Christmas decorating fiend. Yesterday, the day we arrived back after Thanksgiving away, she proceeded to decorate our entire apartment with her Christmas decorations. The CD player is now full of Christmas music, we have a small, silver tree in the corner of our living room, and all of our kitchen towels have miraculously turned blue with snowflakes on them. I have generally not decorated my apartments and dorm rooms when at school because I don't really like to decorate until about a week before Christmas - and then leave it up until the beginning of January.

But I did my own sort of November decorating today - I went to the hardware store and purchased window insulating plastic. So far I've only done the bathroom window. I want to wait a bit before doing my bedroom in the chance that we get yet another warm front and I want to open it for some reason. Although I want to be warm, I'm not quite ready to block myself off.

I really enjoy putting the plastic up, however - especially the part where you use a hairdryer. There is just something satisfying about the plastic forming itself to the shape you've designated for it. So, don't call me to help decorate for Christmas before Dec. 15th, but if you need any help shrink wrapping your windows - I'm the woman to call.

Losing touch

Every once in a while, depending on how I sleep, my middle finger on my right hand loses some of it's ability to feel. I've talked to the dr. about it and it's a minor case of carpal tunnel syndrome. It doesn't really impact my day at all, I just notice it from time to time, particularly when typing.

I've been given some exercises to do (and no, none of them include extending that particular finger in someone's direction), and it really only comes when my hand falls asleep while underneath my head. (A side comment - It's intriguing to me that while I'm asleep, my body parts can fall into further sleep).

This slight loss of touch really reminds me how much I appreciate touch. When I'm having a bad day a hand on my back or a back scratch is so comforting. A hug, or playful roughhousing can be invigorating. As I look towards a future in which I do not know where or with whom I'll be 6 months from now, it makes me want to soak up all the touching I can. I'll be losing touch then too. I just need to find the right exercises so that I can re-aquire it.

Suit Yourself

I purchased my first official suit today. With a major interview coming up and the possibility of many more in the spring I finally purchased one that wasn't from the clearance section of the juniors department. It's simple, black, has good lining and a good line. It will be appropriate in many circumstances - but - it has no pockets.

My 8th grade biology teacher used to wear these jumpers and skirts with really deep pockets. She kept any number of things in there - and I specifically remember her one time pulling out a chloroform frog wrapped in plastic. When I thought I was going to be a teacher I envisioned myself with such pockets. I love being able to stash what I need and just pull it out. In high school I kept my driver's license in my back pocket with any money I might need and my keys in my front pocket. It took me until after college to even own a purse I would carry.

But, now, due to my suit's deficiency, I am pretty much required to carry a purse - which I now don't mind and even enjoy. Yet, to have to because my suit does not have pockets is aggravating. It just means my life is more high-maintenance.

Primary Wonder, the base

As indicated in the heading, my blog is based on the following poem by Denise Levertov,

Days pass when I forget the mystery,
Problems insoluble and problems offering
their own ignored solutions
jostle for my attention, they crowd its antechamber
along with a host of diversions, my courtiers, wearing
their colored clothes; cap and bells.

And then

once more the quiet mystery
is present to me, the throng's clamor
recedes: the mystery
that there is anything, anything at all,
let alone cosmos, joy, memory, everything,
rather than void: and that, O Lord,
Creator, Hallowed One, You still
hour by hour sustain it.

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May you too be enriched and comforted by this poem.

Writing Bloc

It seems that every time I sit down to write a paper a million other things just pop up to do. There are a "host of diversions" as my lovely title poem states, and I fall prey to them. This being one, in fact.

I have nothing poignant to say, I have only time to kill as I procrastinate.

And this is all I have to say.

Fear

I'm more frightened of what my president is cabable of and will do in the name of my country's "values" than what certain radical religious groups might do in the name of their faith.