Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read.

My little brother is…gack…THIRTY-TWO today. How can he be that old? That makes me ancient! Happy birthday, Drew (not that anyone in my family has this blog URL).

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At Nadav’s birthday party yesterday morning, Jude wanted to go down into the yard to play, but to do so, he had to pass the dog enclosure. He came back up, planted himself in my lap, and said, “Dogs eat me, no!” Whereupon Deb’s dad pointed out that as they were Jewish dogs, they wouldn’t eat him because he was trayf. Jude didn’t much benefit but I thought it was hilarious.

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Often I feel very out of place at Deb’s parties because usually I am 1) the only non-physician, and while I am very satisfied with my librarian career, it can be a bit intimidating, and I often feel dismissed (most likely just a product of my natural inferiority complex, not a comment on Deb’s friends) and 2) I am often the only Gentile, and since I don’t speak Hebrew I feel that much more out of the loop. Deb and I have been friends forever and she knows things about me I hope she never reveals, and I adore Deb and her husband -- but it can be weird. Yesterday was the exception, maybe it’s because her family and other friends are starting to know me. Noam’s mom was so sweet, and I must say, I have MIL envy. I know everyone has their own issues with their in-laws and I would not presume to understand or get in the middle, but all other things being equal, I wonder if Arlyn would adopt me? I understand that much of my MIL longing is caused by the fact that my mom is gone and has been for years, but I do seem to wistfully wish to be adopted by various other moms an awful lot. My brother’s MIL is a gem and while she’s fond enough of me, I suppose, she does have five children of her own. Alas, Arlyn has three children of her own and very nice grandchildren to boot. The only one I would have hope to love me the way my mom did would be my MIL and it’s obvious after ten years of marriage that that will never be the case. Despite the fact that my MIL has a heart of mostly gold, she and I are simply not simpatico. And I do want to be loved like someone’s daughter, and that just doesn’t happen when these wonderful women have wonderful kids of their own, you know? I might be loved but not the way my poor little orphaned soul desires : ) Anyhoo, enough pathetic-ness.

I had a lovely conversation about books with Arlyn, and Deb’s dad and stepmom. Arlyn has read The Sparrow and I was so excited to have someone to discuss it with! She had even met the author while in Seattle a few years ago and she confirmed my thoughts that Mary Doria Russell seems to be a very down-to-earth and interesting, intelligent woman. I do love talking books. What a great morning.

The other bonus is that Deb’s is the only place I ever get to eat all the smoked salmon I want. Bagels, cream cheese, smoked salmon, and red onions – another perfect breakfast, topped off with hot coffee and delicious chocolate cake from Whole Foods.

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David and Marisa’s party was lovely. The chocolate fondue was quite the hit and I think I ate all their pineapple. And I love the new dining room set, it’s gorgeous. I meet the funniest and strangest people at their house, too – it’s nice to ease back into that theatre culture for an evening. No one looks at me twice if I swear a lot, and I forget how blunt and vulgar theatre people can be after my daily sojourn among academic librarians. I miss it sometimes.

I think I should probably tone down the mostly-pseudo ex-professor bitterness around David’s university colleagues however; it’s a good riff but I think some of them took me seriously. I had one prof who I hated (and trust me, the feeling was sooooo mutual). But that was fifteen years ago, and now it’s just amusing. I don’t want anyone thinking I actually even still care (although at the time, I did, desperately), so the Cletus riff has to go, alas. But really, what sort of grown man in a position of authority tells a twenty-one-year-old that she has the emotions of a fence post, and that the only reason she’s graduating is because they don’t want her around next year? (Note: for my own pride, I must point out that I graduated with college and university honors, and a 3.5 GPA. So it was *not* my grades.) OK, maybe it still bothers me a little; what can I say, I was scarred : )

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I am lining up vacation books. I will be away a week, so I need to bring at least five. Here’s what I am considering at the moment (bold ones are definites):

Vanity Fair - Thackeray
In Harm’s Way – Douglas Stanton (I *know* what I said about shark books at the shore…)
The Game – Laurie King
Son of the Circus – John Irving
Green Darkness
Children of God
Whatever magazine issues I get in the mail the week before we leave

I just started Michel Faber’s The Crimson Petal and the White so if I am still working on that, that will go too.

It’s the BabelBabe Fresh Air Fund for Books.

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Gina, I miss you.
We’re thinking of you, see?



And maybe you'll find a nice man while you're there (although I think you'd hesitate to date any single man who was at Disney...)



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My new life motto:
Where is human nature so weak as in the bookstore? - Henry Ward Beecher