being mobile's not so bad for la donna.

I wish I could work at a coffee shop. (and by “work,” I mean “write.” I realize one could well quibble with my definitions, after seeing what I write and how I don’t get paid to do it. But for purposes here, I mean “write.” Ahem...)

I wish I could work at a coffee shop. (doesn’t La Donna e Mobile start something like this? Yes, I’m inspired by Verdi. He looked just like our plumber, Yank. Ahem...)

I know it’s a cliche, the whole shtick of the earnest scribe, with laptop, in coffee shop. I’ve seen it plenty of times myself, and I always think, that’s cute...look at you...what a cliche...hope you have better luck than I have. But I’ve also tried it. More back in the day when I had two conditions present--children in school, and husband at work. Now that I am a companion almost 24/7, you would think that--at the very least--such circumscription would afford me ample freedom to write. And it does, in theory. But as almost everyone who has tried to work at home knows--sometimes home is just not the easiest place to achieve mental clarity. It is true that, with writing, you cannot let lack of mental clarity be a stumbling block. (If it were I would have scarcely written a word by now.) But the weird thing is...writing in a coffee shop really works. Maybe it’s a combination of factors: You’re out and in public which brings a fresh sharpness to the thinking process, yet it’s a comfortable setting where most distractions can be safely ignored. I have had some breakthrough moments in that setting. Not that you would know, reading my stuff...Show me, please...just where is it that you broke through?...Well, that could be the wrong metaphor. Maybe they were more like finally getting my rubber rain boot yanked out of the mud moments. It may not have yielded something pretty, but at least I could stick my foot back in and resume trudging. And drink coffee.

eReading

Let’s deviate from existential angst and situational bellyaching for a spell, and give 3 cheers for technology.

I’m aware that not everyone--self-proclaimed Luddite friends, and frustrated relatives being notable exceptions--will want to cheer, but I’m going to do it anyway. Ok, I know that Amazon is big and unwieldy, is taking over the world, and will soon change it’s name to Buy-N-Large (or Monsanto...not sure which,) but--for the moment at least (or until I notice they’ve implanted a chip in my brain via “Whispernet,”)--I’m delighted by my newly discovered ability to share already-purchased Kindle books between the Kindle itself and my iPhone. Using free-to-download Stanza software.

Here’s why I experienced a minor note of insignificant frustration prior to this discovery: Kindle downloads are roughly $10, minus a cent or two. Certain ones--sometimes very large files or very new and popular titles can exceed this amount, and others (such as the complete Les Mis) can be dirt cheap. But, having acquired Stanza software free on my iPhone, I observed--upon scanning the online catalogs for books of interest--that most ebooks that are not public domain, are carrying a price tag in the $26 echelon.

So today, as I was scouting for a downloadable edition of something that has caught my eye: Fingerprints of God, by Barbara Bradley Hagerty, I was also contemplating whether I’d prefer to Kindle it, or try it out on the iPhone reader (which has the advantage of being with me at, essentially, all times, but would not serve well as distraction on the elliptical trainer. That is the Kindle’s job.)

For $9.99 I could instantaneously download the title onto my Kindle. For $27 I could get it on Stanza. Not such a tough call, but a curious dichotomy that set me to googling why. And I google-stumbled across the previously-unknown-to-me fact that Amazon bought Stanza, and if I simply download (free) Kindle software onto my iPhone, then I can also access everything I’ve already purchased for Kindle. (seems fair, true.)

Anyone who’s wondering whether this kind of stuff is all I have to worry about maybe doesn't know me. What this kind of stuff provides is a fun distraction from the other stuff, and I share it here with the tootly fanfare of a digitized trumpet, as is appropriate given the subject matter.

Yes. I admit in all dorkiness and apologetic contrition and tendency to create redundant phrases just because they sound cool that I’m an iPhone junkie now. (who, for example, could not love a device on which you can play a game called "Ragdoll Blast," where you complete physics puzzles by shooting ragdolls out of a cannon?)

Regrettably though, even if I turn out to like the new book, I have no way to share it with you.

potluck...

Nihongo is a no-go for next semester, I know. The vital energies are just being demanded elsewhere, it turns out. In fact, I’m about out of juice already in the mental kana generator. Oh, for sure, I’ll keep it from totally rusting with a bit of Rosetta Stone here and there, but sometimes you’re like a shrub, hunkering through the dry season, and you’ve gotta know where to lop the excess branches.

Now I’m trying to figure out how to sleep. I’m pretty good at the basics, mind you, but the game is getting a bit more complex, what with aging equipment challenges, and I’m finding myself faced with decisions other than just how early to bed and how early to rise. I was a stomach sleeper up through the child-bearing years. As a kid, balling up face down gave me a sense of virtual carapace, and stuff (you know, stuff) couldn’t get me. When my back started to hurt, I compromised and went with side sleeping. A 5 foot body pillow has been my helper for years, but now the shoulders say no. Bursitis? Rotator cuff? I don’t know, but a little online research suggested that by careful placement of 3 pillows, I could fashion myself a sort of arm and shoulder channel, thereby taking the crunch off. Tried it. Maybe it’s just that I’m in an acute phase with the shoulder pain, but it still hurt. The best solution seems to be on my back, 2 head pillows, and a chest pillow for my arms, to keep the shoulders in unstressful alignment. As for the gradual segue to more “vulnerable” positions, (back up, side up, belly up?) I guess I may have to just get a scary pillowcase for my chest-top pillow.

Here’s what’s funny when your person is in the Medicare Part D “donut hole.” You go into the pharmacy requesting the bare minimum of pills to carry you through to January 4 (the first business day of 2010, when the health plan resets,) and even though you’re only trying to obtain a month and a half worth, the counter lady still looks at you pityingly, because she knows how much each of those stinky little pills costs. And you explain that it’s okay--that’s why you’re only getting the bare minimum, and not 3 months worth.

Highlight of the day: The owners of the Good Life Organic Market now have daal and rice on the hot bar! It was lunch. Yum.

maybe?

Weirdness. I’m actually looking, with potential interest, at a service called “Comfort Zone,” currently being promoted on the latest Alz. Assoc. email. Makes your AD person (who, of course, has to have the transmitter on him) trackable online via GPS and a mapping site.

Not that my person wanders off. As of presently, this has not been a problem. But I’m interested in the technology’s potential to be employed in “travel” mode, when--should we become separated in a place other than our hometown--I could googlemap him.

Well...let’s see if a) Gabe has a situation for next Fall, and (if “a” is true,) b) it actually appears that we may accomplish travel. Other than to a college dorm and back. There are also “safe return” bracelets, which are imprinted with info needed to contact a nerve center, whence the responsible party may be contacted. I never did this with my kids. (didn’t exist.) Well, we’ll see...

where to go, where to go...

Paul-san and I had the briefest of pre-Japanese class conversations on the matter of whether we’d be signing up for semester 3 in the Spring. We wondered jointly about why--of all things--we’re studying Japanese. He does not figure that he, at roughly 70, will do much traveling to the Orient. (I don’t know why not--we didn’t get into that,) but he supposed that I was young enough that I might indeed have such a future. Again, we didn’t get into it, but I merely demured that I can’t see it. And I can’t. I would not choose Japan as the user-uber-friendly kind of excursion I’m willing to take Jeff on.

I think there are plenty of good relatively low-stress options, and I’m looking forward to trying a few, but surely a place where they have special subway people whose job is to push on commuters so they’re more compacted (so as to get the car door shut,) is not our number one choice. Small towns of New England? Maybe.

anchors aweigh...but only if there's wind

please, s'il vous plaît, por favor, doozo...someone from a college which Gabe could possibly function at--especially Mitchell--tell us something. Tell us you have all his stuff. (because I don't even know if you do, and have no other way of finding out.) Tell us you want him. Tell us anything. My Myers-Briggs J is doing a little berzerker dance all around the kitchen floor.

See, I don't want a next year that is the same as this year, and that means moving things (and by things, in this case, I mean Gabe) along. Plus, once I have a clue what next year could possibly entail for him, I can latch onto that like a terrier onto a pants-leg, and plan and plan and plan. Planning, you see, is the opiate of the perpetually anxious. You can overplan, you can triple plan, you can make plans A,B,and C thru Z, and it feels like doing something.

Indeedy, I am a ship which has utterly lost its ballast, and that is why we stay busy--we are busy getting lunch/running errands/studying Japanese--because if you just weigh anchor and float, then...whoaa (not to mention avast...) you notice you are listing heavily to port or starboard, or perhaps just taking on a bit o' water. Whereas if we skitter about with the bilge-rats, we're less inclined to notice that the crows are about to fall out of the crow's nest.

Anyway, those college peoples would be doing me a big fat favor in terms of serotonin bursts to drop me a tantalizing piece of acknowledgment, and I'd be as grateful as a rat can be!

such a gifted avoider

I’m thinking I can’t take Japanese and get writing done concurrently. Hence I think I will have to decide to give myself a chance to get the writing done after this semester. Why? Isn’t it silly? Probably, but the condition of silliness does not exempt it.

Or maybe it’s the flagging and revival of my enthusiasm and its shifting emphases. Sure I like Japanese. I like languages in general, but the story wishes to get writ, and I know I throw myself obsessively into language acquisition the same way that (at other times) I heave into a crossword puzzle. It’s escapism. Not writing saves me from writing crappy. But crappy will do. And no...I do not want a 5 night stay at the Marriott Singer Island resort for the special price of...whatever the special price was. Don’t call back. Thanks.