Office furniture normally doesn’t send me up the river, but I’m thrilled about this acquisition. Â Our filing system (I use that term very loosely) was a mess of the first order, and we desperately needed more drawer space. Â The cabinet came in a box, of course, so Scott had to channel his inner carpenter and put it together. Â I have to say, there is nothing more attractive than watching your husband competently assemble a piece of furniture you have wanted for a very long time (unless, of course, you are watching your husband uncomplainingly wipe up your child’s vomit in the middle of the night in a tent in a state park. Â On the scale of spousal irresistibility, that’s hard to beat.) Â I had Â a very happy busy night labeling hanging file folders and organizing and sorting and recycling. Â It was a long process (I went to bed after one — aiee!), and in the process of shifting folders around I managed to pull some muscle in my left shoulder, but it was worth it. Â I’m not going to say that this is the magic bullet Â that suddenly makes my life a model of order, but I do feel that if I needed to find some paperwork from my past (my S.A.T. scores? Â A resume from 1998?), I’d stand a fighting chance.
2. Â I’ll admit that I’m struggling a bit with it being August already. Â (How did THAT happen?). Â One of my teaching colleagues used to say that June is like Friday, July is like Saturday, and August is like Sunday … and she’s right. Â Sigh. Â I really do like my job … but, like most working folk, I like vacation even more.
3. Â Culinary observation of the day: root beer floats are really, really good. Â They scream “summer,” even when it’s freezing cold Â (the Bay Area seems to be the only part of the United States that has not received the “Summer of Sweat” memo).
4. Â I was a very happy gal at Mass yesterday, because the choir sang this arrangement of the Litany of the Saints.
I adore this piece, and when there is a trumpet player adding his lovely embellishments (as there was yesterday), it’s enough to make me want to weep at the beauty of it all. Â It reminds me of my boys’ baptisms, and of my changing attitude towards the Â saints, whom I’ve come to think of as my homies — people who weren’t perfect, but who managed to integrate their quirks and struggles into an overall search for goodness. Â As Robert Louis Stevenson once wrote, “Saints are sinners who kept on going.” Â
Amen to that.