books n books

I discovered this incredible website today, bookshelfporn, and have spent the last twenty minutes poring over all the different ways that you can display books--stacked, shelved, strewn, by color, by title, by author, on racks, on the floor, on ladders, and (my favorite) as a stairway. can you imagine? "to get to the bathroom just walk up the books. careful on the fourth step; that's first-edition flaubert."

Right now we've settled for a lovely (truly) Ikea bookshelf and way too many stacks of seven and eight books in inconvenient locations throughout the house. as gorgeous as the stacks in this photograph are, you can do a lot more with sleek design and fashion coffee table books than with short and chunky philosophy volumes or every copy of pat conroy you've ever seen because you might have one more friend you haven't given his books to. those just aren't the prettiest books out there.

luckily, though, i now have a decorating scheme for my pied-a-tierre on the champs elysees.

You know you're a westmont graduate when . . .

I love lists - lists of any kind, really: the visual impact of orderly rows, the space between items, the neat collection of like things into one meta-thing. And I read something earlier today that made me think about things that westmont graduates have in common - so, this list! It'll probably be most applicable to people who graduated in the handful of years around mine.

SO, You know you're a westmont graduate when . . .

- You have more Save the Date magnets than space on your refrigerator
- Someone you know was totally entrepreneurial your sophomore year and created a recipe book of secret treats you could make with ingredients from the dc
- You were probably shushed by BP in chapel
- The fire was an awful tragedy, but you're secretly a little jealous of all the students who got their rooms rebuilt with modern conveniences like air conditioning
- Giving directions to campus almost always ended with, "You know what? I'll just meet you at Starbucks on Coast Village; it's easier."
- You could make prank phone calls by dialing someone's number from your room phone. Those were good days. (For st & kp)
- Blowing off a week's worth of class and homework for spring sing was not unheard of
- Getting tests and papers moved because of spring sing was not unheard of
- The best way to spend an afternoon was playing hooky from class, getting blenders, and laying out at butterfly beach
- Of course, you always ran the risk that though it was 80 and sunny on campus, butterfly was fogged in and 32 degrees.
- Theories circulated, from the benign to the grotesque, about the origin of the smell emanating from outside the study - grease trap, sewage, compost - but it remained a mystery
- Your friend group still has at least one member living in santa barbara, and you're probably a little bit jealous
- All of your friends are married. Except for the fifty percent who aren't, but it feels like all.
- Your coffee shops and your bars are the same place
- You're well accustomed to telling distant relatives or curious friends that no, West Point is a different school altogether and yes, Westmont is a Christian school but it's not like what you may be thinking. (Super conservative)

Fun thoughts. I always like thinking back on my time at Westmont. I'd also like to note that the items on this list do not all naturally flow from their leading statement, for which I apologize. Sorry. (Not really)

name changing

i feel like i've had a lot on my mind lately, not the least of which is my constant self-nagging to get to the social security office and make an honest woman of myself. really, though, wouldn't my name-change make such a lovely 25th anniversary gift?

in the meantime, lots of good things coming up. coming down the pike. coming through the door.

kristy and alex.
corrie and bowman.
adam and emily.
san clemente.
belize.

in the meantime, i loved this dress from the met. yes, it was weeks ago now. still, i love it. curiously underaccessorized, however, which is a disappointment:




















Diane Kruger was probably my favorite of the whole Met because 1) Pacey and 2) her dress, wow! Not many people could have pulled that off. Sadly, Tina Fey, you are the Worst. Really, let the models and the crazy people wear the jumpsuits. You keep wearing pretty strapless dresses, and we'll all be okay.

The boat

I think that, in life, most people have certain things that they struggle with (or against) for years. My mom will talk about your 'words' - the idea being that everyone has two or three words that stay with you and that you find, to your chagrin and frustration, come up time and again. Depression, anger, gossip, discontent, fear . . .

One of my words, for as long as I can remember, has been anxiety.

I remember at seven years old, starting second grade and feeling so afraid to enter a new world that I would cry in the morning, feeling panicked and alone and unable to explain to my concerned parents why going to school felt like such a terrible weight.

In eighth grade, I remember very distinctly a moment by my locker on the first day of classes when that familiar tingling and stomach-churning sensation took over, and I felt sure that I would not make any friends that year, that I would be alone every day in the cafeteria and have no one to walk the halls with between classes or sit next to on the long bus ride home.

Starting college and my family's moving to another state at the same time felt like too much to bear; I still can't remember a time in my life that felt more acutely anxiety-producing than those first few weeks in Menlo Park and at Westmont.

And regardless of how these events turned out, the beginning was always, without fail, awful. Marked by a sense of dread and a certainty that I was alone on my journey, I wandered through the haze of those times totally unable to find anything good in my days. The summer before college, I went to a therapist for the first time. She was pretty woo-woo and nurturing and didn't like the word 'challenge,' I remember. But she also gave me one of the most helpful images that I've ever received, and I carry it with me now.

She drew a picture of a little boat - a canoe, probably, with two wooden planks stretched across for seats. Next to the canoe was a dock. The boat, she explained, was me. I was the small canoe, facing a vast waterfront of possibility and anxiety. I sat next to a dock, still tethered to it but floating far away. One small breeze, it seemed, was all it would take for the rope to slide off of the dock and into the water. And that dock, that was my family. It was everything that was familiar to me - our home, the kitchen table that looked out on our backyard, my mom's banana bread and dad's story-telling voice and our dog. And this little boat was about to go out on its own to explore.

So not only was I moving, but my dock was moving, too. It would be in California with me, which was nice, but what I really wanted was the white dock with red shutters in Hoffman Estates. What I really wanted was home, known, ragged and known and so known that I could run my fingers over it, eyes closed, and trace its shape and call it home. Because at home there is no trace of anxiety, there is only presence.

Catherine of Siena said a lovely thing, a thing that makes sense of this boat-and-dock life that we all live, and that reminds me that anxiety does not bring freedom.
"Make for yourself two homes, my daughter. One will be your actual cell . . . The other will be a spiritual home which you carry with you always, the cell of true self-knowledge where you find withing yourself knowledge of God's goodness. This is actually two cells in one."

The harder I try to get rid of anxious thoughts, the more I fail. But as I accept them, and know that anxiety may always be one of my 'words,' the less power my anxious thoughts have over me. The more I am captain of my ship, steering to the old dock when I need to see familiar land and taking heart in the God who brings me to new land, and with whom we build a new dock.

puppy diddle

i cried over dog pee last night.

zack and i had just gotten home, both from wonderful weekends in different places. we had missed each other, but i was moving quickly toward my sunday night freak out, where i realize what i didn't get done that weekend and how much lies ahead on monday morning.

and our adorable, energetic, frenetic five month old puppy (see above) had, quite predictably, lost control of his inordinately large bladder during the four hours we left him at home alone and peed on the kitchen floor.

it's a lovely kitchen floor--spanish tile, raised, so that anytime you spill a glass of water, it forms little rivulets that run like streams down the grout to the back door. no big deal when it's water, but extraordinarily tricky when it's smelly puppy urine.

and i saw it, and zack didn't, and he thought he had already cleaned everything up. he was proud, glad that artie had stuck to his little pee pad. but he hadn't, and i pointed that out with just a little bit of i-can't-believe-you-didn't-see-that-this-is-somehow-your-fault in my voice. and that's when i started to tear up. the hot and stinging tears of frustration, of disappointment in yourself and exhaustion and a five month old puppy and GOOD GOD, how will you ever be able to have a child if a dog drives you to tears?

but, there they were, sliding down my face and collecting underneath my chin, and then after awhile they dripped off and i was there, with my tears and the smell of diluted bleach and the dog trying to lick my toes, and then all of a sudden it was our house, a very very very fine house, and the dog pee was gone but it would come again. you know? it always comes. it's always something. but it's our house, and life is easier with you. someone cleans the dog piddle, and someone cries, and then the next day it's someone elses turn to cry while the other one cleans the piddle.

do not rent me anything.

otherwise, this happens.

i had no idea that DEBT COLLECTORS came after you for overdue library books. i thought that librarians just glared at you a little more harshly, or you would drive an extra ten miles to the branch library out of sheer embarrassment, or you would get a medal one day for returning your books after they were 60 years overdue and everyone had a good laugh and your integrity was remarked upon.

nope.

i think i have some kind of gene that precludes my ever returning a book or dvd on time. honestly. would that hold up in court? otherwise, i'm takin' it on the lam!

'heartbreakingly succinct'

. . . this was probably the best description i have heard of the oscars in my extensive online debriefing.

it was an okay ceremony. nothing about it was superlative. where were the bjorks, in their dead swan dresses? the nicole kidmans in their chartreuse dior? the fact that they cut out the 'best song' live performances was compensated for in time and pain by the interpretive dances for best score and the glossy recaps of the TEN best picture nominees. alec baldwin and (especially) steve martin were great, but they got such little screen time that it almost didn't matter.

in a word: meh.

Of course, i don't really mean that, because i LOVE the oscars and couldn't sleep the night before they were on and i totally have letdown symptoms today. it just wasn't a lively ceremony. gabourey sidibe was the only person there who acted totally excited to be there and not movie-star smug.

the real disappointment for me, thought, comes in the fashion. let's be honest, zoe saldana's dress was a lavendar nightmare, but at least she took a risk! in the words of my good friend rachel, when something is boring, it is BO-RING. and the dresses this year were just that.

nevertheless, i will not refrain from commenting, judging, and generally playing joan rivers. let's get started.

PENELOPE CRUZ

so, so, super classy.

it looks like it's the color of every red wine ever made. also, 'burgundy' would work. i love the diagonal ruching, the asymmetrical top, the length, how it probably swished when she walked by you. . . . it's the perfect "i'm nominated and i know i won't win but i am classier than anyone else here and i am dating javier bardem so bite me" dress. and really, what more could a girl want? she looks incredible.








DIANE KRUGER





i just do. not. understand.

she is gorgeous. really, SO pretty. and i do love black-and-white dresses. and the accordion pleating at the bottom, and then WHAT THE HELL is going on in the middle? and more importantly, WHY is it going on? what a totally awesome dress it would have been belted ONCE, right around the middle. i'm not picky. waist, hips, under the hips for the mermaid look, above the waist for the empire . . . but it's like Karl Lagerfeld ran out of fabric, threw up his bejeweled hands and covered up the middle of the dress with his goddaughter;s christening dress.




FAITH HILL





i hoped against hope that she had learned from the 'my-little-pony-rainbow-mermaid' dress a few years ago. should have known that she doesn't seem to learn from her mistakes, though.

the 'bra' here looks like it was an afterthought, picked up from the dumpster outside catwoman's house and more than a little too narrow for comfort. and the rest of it . . . honestly, it just makes me think of my grandma's old nightgowns, the ones that my sister and cousin and i would pose in and clip in the back because there was too much lace, except more revealing and less flattering.

also, it's just boring to wear black to the oscars. even this black. and she's so pretty . . .





CAMERON DIAZ


wow.


SERIOUSLY. wow! cameron, almost reliably, shows up to shows like these looking like she walked straight off the treadmill and slathered on some bright red lipstick. her dress choices aren't awful, on average, but this oscar de la renta is heads and shoulders above A) most of her past choices and B) most of the other dresses at the oscars on sunday.

i hate myself for saying this, but she is reminiscent of grace kelly. in looks alone.







KATE WINSLET




mallory said on sunday night that kate looked better as a brunette. while i initially disagreed, i'm coming around right now . . .

however, that is neither here nor there. because, look! kate winslet managed to wear THE MOST BORING THING EVER to the oscars! as another apt blogger pointed out, helen mirren or meryl streep could have worn this down the red carpet and gotten nothing but respect. the point being that, last time i checked, kate winslet is not sixty years old and NO ONE SHOULD EVER SHOP AT CHICO'S, where i believe all of this came from. chico's probably custom-made it for her. it feels kind of sad - have fun with it, kate! you are impossibly beautiful! and these are the oscars!

also, the skirt looked a little bit like harem pants sometimes.




SANDRA BULLOCK

first of all, let's address the fact that sandy dressed LIKE an oscar and she WON an oscar. i don't think it was a coincidence. i think when they academy saw her, and realized how good her dress would look on that stage with the little man next to it, and saw meryl, whose dress was reminiscent of celine dion's backwards pantsuit, they just called an audible. they crossed out meryl's name (don't worry, it's happened like 14 times) and gave it to sandra, in all her raven-haired, red-lipped, sparkly golden glory.

really. she looks fantastic. she makes some bad decisions at times - remember the purple dress at the golden globes this year? - but she is so beautiful, and radiant, and for the combination of perfect hair and makeup and OMG that dress, i think she officially wins best-dressed at the 2010 oscars. not counting my new best friend, gabby sidibe. but seriously. just look at her! how could you not?




ZOE SALDANA

. . .

good
good
good
cute
nice
huh?
hmmm
okay,
i could
get used
to . . .
WHAT
THE
HELL?

seriously. what the hell. this dress starts off well. golden, sparkly, warm - follows the motif of the best dresses of the whole night. and then it ends like a bad joke! or like an explosion of paper mache! lots of purple sponges! a parade float, toilet paper, loads of tiny shih tzus dyed all shades of purple? a royal pinata? help me out here, you guys.

for this awful thing, zoe receives the FIRST ANNUAL "Oh, honey, no," award. as i don't know her personally, i will not hand it to her, but if i were to, please picture me shaking my head disapprovingly and clucking as i did.

okay, i'm kind of wiped. there are so many still to talk about! but for now, i will leave you with this CRAZY recap from the lady who kanye'd that other guy:


BURKETT: What happened was the director and I had a bad difference over the direction of the film that resulted in a lawsuit that has settled amicably out of court. But there have been all these events around the Oscars, and I wasn't invited to any of them. And he's not speaking to me. So we weren't even able to discuss ahead of the time who would be the one person allowed to speak if we won. And then, as I'm sure you saw, when we won, he raced up there to accept the award. And his mother took her cane and blocked me. So I couldn't get up there very fast.

CHARLIZE

oh my gosh, you guys. i can't believe i was totally ready to go without even talking about this one!!!


Two things:

1) Her hair that way? Kind of makes her look like Kate Gosselein.

2) Boob rosettes.

I mean, REALLY? What did she think, that differently-colored fabric on her boobs, in the shape of little roses, wouldn't make people be like, whoa, charlize! your boobs! because that didn't work. she has rosettes. on her boobs.

finally, this dress (minus the b.r.s) looks a lot like my prom dress senior year of high school, long sash in back and all. and while that was a beautiful dress, i was seventeen years old and living in hoffman estates, il. you can do better, sweetie.