January 4, 2011
Hi everyone.
I'm Dawne.
(a resounding, in unison chorus) Hi Dawne!
I'm an addict.
Books.
What can I say?
After family and pets, I love books.
A few dollars in my wallet and I am at the bargain book section of Chapters faster than you can say "Chai latte at Starbucks."
And today was a day for books.
Ones that were accidentally sent to the UNB Law Library that were meant for me.
Ones at the UNB Bookstore I had forgotten about.
The ones I ordered when I went a little crazy with my Chapters gift cards.
I had, in total, $211.00 in gift cards.
Shopping online through Chapters means cheaper books.
I had far too much fun.
So, some of what I ordered arrived today, but alas, I was not here to get the parcel, so I have to pick it up after I get Em from work.
And this is a gift that keeps on giving.
Because the rest of my order will arrive around the 25th of January.
My heart's desire at this moment is to abandon my work, my family, my responsibilities, go upstairs, put on my pjs, crawl under my uber warm covers (because again, I'm freezing today) put the books in a pile on Stephen's side of the bed, and slowly go through each and every one of them.
Looking at the front covers, the back covers.
Perusing the front pieces, table of contents if one is there, publishing information, or if it's fiction, read the first couple of pages.
Non-fiction means I head for the bibliographies first, in search of more potential reads.
And what titles have set my heart aflutter?
My stomach turning butterflies?
My brain buzzing with anticipation?
Let's see. . .
From Chapters:
Cannery Row by John Steinbeck
Silent Scream: An Anna Travis Mystery by Lynda LaPlante
13 1/2 by Nevada Barr
The Great Movies III by Roger Ebert
Ice Cold: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel by Tess Gerritsen
Wishin' And Hopin': A Novel by Wally Lamb
Above Suspicion by Lynda LaPlante
From the UNB Law Library (how they ended up there is still a mystery. . .to me and the librarian):
Crackhouse: Notes from the End of the Line by Terry Williams
Gang Leader for a Day: A Rogue Sociologist Takes to the Streets by Sudhir Venkatesh
American Dream: Three Women, Ten Kids, and a Nation's Drive to End Welfare by Jason DeParle
And from the UNB Bookstore, forgotten in the madness that was marking and Christmas:
Courting Disaster: Intimate Stalking, Culture and Criminal Justice by Jennifer L. Dunn
Shane, The Lone Ethnographer: A Beginner's Guide to Ethnography by Sally Campbell Galman (this is actually done in cartoon form. Tres unique!)
Twelve books, just waiting for me to undress them, devour them, enjoy them.
Eventually.
Because the adult me insists on picking kids up from work, making dinner, working at completing a mini exploration of films that can assist in explaining certain theories of deviance, coding data, preparing for the beginning of classes next week. . .
Things I love, to be sure.
But those new books are calling, calling, calling me. . . .
It is a day of adult decision-making.
Tomorrow, Stephen and I planned on hitting the road to Montreal to celebrate Ukrainian Christmas.
However, Mother Nature, in the throes of multiple personality disorder, wants to dump snow in random amounts, in random places between here and Montreal.
No matter how we planned it, we were hitting snow somewhere, both there and back.
And Stephen just didn't think driving in such unpredictable conditions was a good idea.
He is right.
I understand that.
But right and reasonable doesn't mean I have to like it.
We've had some horrific driving experiences in the winter while heading to Montreal.
During our first trip, ever, we were fine until we hit Quebec City and stopped for something to eat.
We were in St. Hubert's for one hour.
Sixty minutes.
And when we came out, it looked like someone had turned on a snow faucet.
On us.
The remaining two hour drive was perhaps one of the scariest we'd ever had.
The car kept veering to the right, making Emily ask, "Is that our exit?"
Mer, who had a cold, provided more than just the natural and expected crabbiness you'd expect from three kids in the back seat during an 8 hour drive.
She had a cold.
Every time she coughed. . . .
. . . .she farted.
And
it
was
putrid.
A stench that could peel paint from walls, bring small children to tears, make dogs howl as if in excruciating agony. . .
Yes.
It was that bad.
But worse was the captain of this crappy commute.
Combined with our less-than-winter-winter-tires, it was a drive that made the Van Every-Pidwysocky-Clarke record books.
Stephen was SO tense.
Once we arrived in Montreal, Stephen unfolded himself from the car.
Walked into his parent's house.
And before even saying, "Hello Ma, Hello Tat" asked for Tylenol.
The strongest stuff they had.
And a hot water bottle.
His back had completely seized.
Remaining so during our entire visit.
But we still had so. much. fun.
Setting a precedent for other trips.
Basha's for Lebanese food.
Simons for linens and such.
Purse shopping in the east coast mecca of purse shopping.
Strolling downtown, popping in and out of various shops.
Like the three storied Chapters.
The two stories HMV.
So, I'm all for reasonable and rational.
But not seeing Stephen's parents and Aunt Irene, not going to their church. . .
That shoves reason and rational aside.
We are a one car family.
Understanding and compromise are a part of our family repertoire.
For example, today was a day of errands.
Keith needed a visit to the optometrist.
A result of his foray into inebriated sledding.
I didn't really want to go to the optometrist that had been closed since December 24th and just opened today, meaning that everyone who had optical appointments or spectacle emergencies had descended making the parking lot full, the waiting room fuller, and me not wanting to wait the hour and a half it would take a technician to get to Keith.
But we did.
And oddly enough, it didn't take as long as I had predicted.
Before we headed to our next stop, I reminded Keith of the importance of compromise and doing for others.
And then we went bra shopping.
For my mother.
I figured we were tit for tat, so to speak.
As we both had to do something we weren't really looking forward to.
I love compromise.
You just never know what will happen.
Among our errands, Simply for Life.
Sort of across from the optometrist.
And while it wasn't an appointment day, I thought I could nip in for a weigh in.
I've lost another three pounds.
Which was actually disappointing for me.
Given the extraordinarily super-human effort I put into avoiding all the Christmas goodies I so wanted to gorge upon, I was hoping for at least 5 pounds.
I know.
I know.
I lost three pounds during the season of love, goodwill, fellowship, and weight gain.
I've heard.
But like a student who worked for weeks on a paper that only garnered a C grade I resolutely believe my efforts should have received greater reward.
28 pounds later. . . .
I'm happy I've lost more weight.
Logically, I know I'll lose more.
But logic and reason can't trump all the mincemeat pie, chocolate, shortbread cookies, chips, Quality Street candies I walked away from, turned my back on, gave the cold shoulder to.
Not even.
Title Lyric: Wrapped Up in Books by Belle and Sebastian
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