Needle in a haystack.

I have spent the past 45 minutes going through news sites: CNN, washingtonpost, msnbc, tallahassee, NYtimes... Then I moved on to the weather and my favorite blogger, Catherine Newman. I checked my sister-in-law's site (which she hasn't updated in months!), and now, still, I'm looking for something. Friendship? Well, if that were the case, it seems I would go to Facebook and deal with that whole mess of people talking about all kinds of random things. Inspiration? Maybe, but surely I'm smart enough to know that news sites aren't the place to go for that. I don't know what I'm looking for, but I am confident that I haven't found it yet.

Now, I'll get dressed and wait for the carpet guy to get here to clean the carpets again because he did a terrible job the first time. Yes, I will some day get rid of this damn carpet. Maybe I should spend my time on the Web looking for a good architect to orchestrate the remodel that will get rid of the carpet!

Ah, shopping.

I took a mental health day today. Went to a psychiatrist for the first time. My dean recommended him and got me in the door because he's not currently accepting new patients. (Connections really are everything.) At the end of our meeting, he dictated into a little recorder for his staff to create my chart. His dictation included a long list of characteristics about me including "no impulsive buying." Which of course made me laugh. He clicked the recorder off and asked, "Impulsive buying?"

"Well," I said, "it depends on who you ask. I like to shop. It's fun. It lifts my spirits."

"How much?" he asked.

"Not much. A hundred here, a hundred there. I like shoes."

"Oh," he said." that's nothing. Shopping makes me feel better too. I like to buy shirts."

That cinched it. I like this guy! Carter, of course, is skeptical.

Do you think I can get a prescription for shopping? My co-pay would go a long way right now. Everything is on sale. I know this because I spent several hours at the mall today. Got some great deals, and believe it or not, didn't buy a single pair of shoes.

j

Butterflies of fall.

Fall is my favorite time of year. There is something about it that is completely intangible that somehow captures the essence of me, my life. It is a time of metamorphosis and potential.

The quality of the light, the crispness of the morning air alternately gives me butterflies and puts me in a melancholy mood. It brings with it the excitement of new fall clothes and football games; the anticipation of new places, new friends, and new experiences; the promise of snow; the beauty of dazzling color; and the joy of the second trimester. It also seems to carry the faint ghosts of unsettling wanderlust, harsh loneliness, and anxious change. More so than my birthday, or the new year, or the beginning of spring, fall is the time in my life when things start over. New cities, new schools, new relationships. The newness has both the thrill of novelty and the burden of adaptation.

How complicated we all are. The creation of our childhood and maturation. The amalgam of relationships gained and lost. The fusion of the bits and pieces we take from every experience. The definition at the end is so contradictory and intricate. Its evaluation makes me appreciate my complexity and the sophistication of the people I love (and it leaves me wanting to take on only the simplest of tasks today).

Cheers to fall. Its cool breezes, beautiful leaves, and whispers of years long gone.


j

So not a "mam"

This morning I interviewed a new person for our college's director of development. Two minutes into the conversation, I had already decided she'd be great for the college and great for me. She's young, spunky, motivated, and super organized. She reminds me a little of me at her age. Then, she called me "mam." Seriously? I cannot have a 25ish grown woman calling me mam! I was definitely the hipper of the two of us in my gray Banana Republic sweater dress and gray reptile print platform heels. What gives? She's currently a fundraiser for the Boy Scouts, so maybe I can just chalk this up to ingrained good manners.

But I'm not even sure I'm buying that.

Damn acorns.

I have been exhausted the last few days though I've been in bed for my usual 7 or so hours. Last night I realized why. Acorns. Falling from my trees, rolling down the roof directly over my head, and landing on the deck. Who knew a little acorn could be so freakin' loud. They wake me up all night long. And not the kind of waking up where you just roll over and go back to sleep. The kind where your heart starts racing as you're jarred out of sleep by a strange sound. I'm thinking that the days are numbered for that tree hanging over my bedroom. I'd take it out with my bare hands right this minute except that it's a huge, towering oak tree. Damn it!

I wanted to write about my family this morning. But one of my family members who woke me up at 5 a.m. and is still yammering away behind me is making it very difficult for me to recount all the warm fuzzy feelings I was feeling yesterday. Aack! It's often like that though, isn't it. I go from one day of wanting to just gobble up those children—from kissing them on their heads a hundred times a day so that I can drink in their smell—to the next day of wanting to wring their little necks. Sigh. I imagine in just moments, this little one flooding me with his stories of airplanes and baseball will do something to melt me again. Until then, I'll just nod my head and feign complete fascination with how his airplane is disguising itself as a duck and is about to crash into a house. Maybe if I close my eyes for just a moment, he won't even notice I've drifted off to sleep.