measure my time

I don't know my library card number by heart yet. I can feel my muscle memory on the keyboard number pad just starting to stir... But after a few weeks of blogging from the library computers, it still hasn't quite kicked in.

It's funny how I've started to measure my time in Adultworld. Between undergrad and momhood, or a second degree, there is no "start of fall term" to tell me when summer is over; there is no "winter break," or even "fall break," for that matter. There is no "putting my stuff in storage" at the end of each year, no semester transcripts, no midterms.

Instead, there is the start date on my lease; the anniversary of the day I met my first friend in this state; the day I suddenly realize, hey! I walked across the street into work on this day last year; the weird undefined period that marks a year since I first discovered Bishop's Coffee Co., but before I shook hands with Jason for the first time; my "6-month" dentist's appointment, which actually fell more than a year after my last cleaning; my contact prescription update; 5 years since I bought my last pair of glasses; the "time to make your next annual appointment" postcard from my doctor; the inevitable urge to refresh my professional wardrobe every time the weather changes; buying a new planner because I actually have stuff to start writing in it for 2013...

Most constant, probably, are bills. This is new for me. The bill from Delmarva (utilities) comes in Kristy's name every month, and we spend a good 5 minutes every time trying to figure out why it's so expensive, if we haven't run the AC in October. (It takes us that long to figure out that October's bill covers mostly our energy use in September, and September's covers mostly August...) I also have to manually transfer my portion of the rent into Kristy's account toward the end of every month, so we don't get saddled with late fees. Then there is my cell phone bill, which comes due on the third of every month, and student loan payments, one of which comes out on the first of the month, and the other on the fifteenth.

Student loans are a big one, because they mark not only months, but years; theoretically, the principal will shrink in some sort of measurable pattern as the years go past. If you remember, my student loan grace period ended on my birthday last year. You might also remember as my favorite birthday present ever. (Not.) The gift that keeps on giving. "Happy birthday, girl! Enjoy your gift: Another year of interest. Party it up! Love, Your Education."

Thanks to this lovely present, I am alarmed every time I check my balance only to find what seems to be no change at all. And for the first time, I'm really connecting emotionally with my middle-class American heritage: Indebtedness. Really makes you feel patriotic.

But even bills aren't so consistent. As you might imagine from that beast of a list, there seems to be another bill due half the days in the month. Or at least a week's worth of days. How can I measure time when the months overlap according to my different creditors?

How about this: How often I buy produce, and how many of my vegetables have turned inedible from neglect? How old are those leftovers, exactly? Using the principles of the hourglass, the level of granola in my awesome granola jar? Time to buy honey, or soap, or toilet paper?

Is it swimming day, Bose ball day, running day, Zumba day, or yoga day? Am I eating dinner with my family tonight? Am I going out with Jason, eating with the girls, or do I need to plan to cook for myself? When's the last time I spent my lunch break talking to Liz or Audrey or Mary on the phone? How soon will I need another book to read?

And then there are holidays. The official calendar "first days of spring/summer/fall/winter" are pretty inconsequential; the solstices and equinoxes are less of a big deal than whether the days are getting shorter or longer. More critical time-measuring holidays are the beginning and end of daylight savings, and how many hours of sleep I have to pretend like I am going to make up this week, or sigh of relief at the extra hour of sleep. Gone are the days when I watch the clock turn from 1:59 to 3:00am as I'm just getting back to my dorm room from being who knows where; now I care about my sleep schedule and how alert I will be for the rest of the work week.

But now it's fall, it's Halloween season, and it's the best. This morning I got up to go to the Brandywine Zoo with my friend Marina. Neither of us really knew where we were going, but we pulled into the parking lot within a minute of each other. Weird. It's in the middle of the gorgeous Brandywine Park, right on the river, which was sparkling autumn-gold. My favorite color, next to the deep, just-after-twilight evening blue.

The Zoo is small, but spirited -- like a lot of the Delaware that's stolen my heart. The gate was decked out with faux cobwebs, the staff dressed up in spooky Halloween finery. Little kids in costume swarmed the walkways. One of them looked exactly like a 3-year-old version of the adorable little girl from We Bought a Zoo, and even matched her temperament. (Great movie, by the way, and so fitting of today's excursion.)

It's the only zoo in Delaware, and not surprisingly it's not the most stunning zoo in the world; but it definitely made my Most Charming Zoos list. It hosts a unique collection of animals, from a coati to a cloud leopard to a python to llamas and rheas and a furry South Asian tree creature whose name I can't pronounce, but have never seen before. The staff are also exceptionally friendly and informative, humbly offering these random answers to questions you never would have thought to ask.

For example, condors are the only birds whose gender is distinguishable without close inspection. They are the largest of the world's flying birds (I could go into this more, since it is the national bird of Ecuador, but I won't). The thing I found most fascinating is that they spread their wings in the sun to dry them off, after burying their bald heads in carrion and rinsing off in a stream or pool of water. Gross, but who would have thought?! We also got to touch cloud leopard, python, and anteater skulls, and see a tiny brown bat skeleton. Haven't seen one of those since the educational pages of the kids' book Stellaluna, where I decided not to be afraid of bats since they are one of the most closely related mammals to humans -- evidenced by their "five-fingered" wing structure.

Speaking of measuring time, the informational plaques at each enclosure spelled out the habitat, offspring, and lifespan of each species represented at the zoo. Rheas live, on average, 20 years in the wild; in captivity, they live 40. River otters usually live about 23 years. And the prize for the longest lifespan goes to...

The blue-and-yellow macaw, which can live to over 100 years! I know what animal I definitely will not be choosing as a pet...

better shared



***This post dedicated to Mary & Jason: Commence the "Like" race! Thanks for sharing many, many good things with me.



<3 is everywhere



Good things are better shared.

For that matter, almost everything is better shared, if you ask me. Bad things become easier to bear with the relief of shedding their secrecy and working through them with someone else. Good things become even better, more beautiful, and longer lasting as their memory outlives the actual flavor, aroma, vision, experience.

My mainstay Mary Lynn just texted me that she got back safely to Alexandria, where she now lives, after a weekend of sharing things with each other.

I love hosting friends. I told her as we set out yesterday morning, "I'm excited to share my life here with you, because I've worked really hard to make it good." She replied, "That's very apparent." And as we sat on the jungly patio of the Blue Parrot at brunch this morning, she marveled at how thoroughly and well I have adopted Delaware as my home and made it meaningful.

She also said about a billion times over the last 40 hours, "I love Delaware."

I couldn't hope for anything more.

Yesterday I drove my sisters (Asha and Yana) to their friend Kat's house, their HQ for the Homecoming Dance. Asha had a date. Weird. I haven't seen pictures yet, but I'm sure they looked beautiful, because every day I'm amazed at how old and gorgeous they are.

I like sharing people with each other most of all. I like sharing my family with my friends, and my friends with my family. I like sharing Jason with everybody and everybody with him. (...But not in a creepy, let's-all-date-each-other kind of a way.) I love throwing parties because I love sitting back and seeing people I care about interact with each other. It's really just the best.





Case in point.





Mary and Jason got along ridiculously well. Walking around Old New Castle with the two of them all day yesterday was strange because every time we walked past something cute (a baby, or an animal) they both did a major double take and exclaimed in stereo, "Kitty!" or "Awww!" There were a lot of babies and puppies and kitties out yesterday.

There's a guy who sets up tables outside the old courthouse and fills them with produce from his farm down near Middletown. I didn't catch his name, but it starts with a T... Every time I see him I'm reminded of the crew from Tiny Planet Farm in St. Croix Falls last summer. He is a regular fixture on that corner, and the lady who walked past with her little curly-haired dog knew him by name. He was telling us how he rescued the last bushel of wax beans, but lost most of them to Friday night's frost, as the dogwalker leaned against the leash to keep her dog from laying waste to the vegetables.

"He loves a good salad!" she said, dragging him off. "I'll be back later to see what you've got left." As she stepped off the curb, though, the little dog made one last leap at the radishes laid out in a crate on the ground and snagged three of them in his teeth.

The five of us parted ways, laughing. Jason and Mary and I set off to Jessop's Tavern for dinner and meant to come back before 7 to get some veggies, but sadly we missed him.

Jessop's is a colonial-style tavern with ship models in the windows, crooked wooden floors, heavy wood tables and heavy silver dishes. The staff dress in full colonial garb and the room is crowded and dimly lit. The host set our table with a stack of literature about the extensive beer list. Needless to say, we were all pretty excited about it.

And we were completely satisfied. I got the shepherd's pie, which will feed me all week. At least 2 more times, and even 3 wouldn't be too much of a stretch. Plus it was delicious, and the beers were HUGE, in tankards and two-pint bottles.

After dinner we ran over to the Amstel House for Hauntings & History, New Castle's ghost tour. It's only $10 per person and tours start at 7:00, 7:30, and 8:30 on Friday and Saturday nights until the end of October. The hauntings were not the scariest I've heard (French Quarter trumps all, so far), but I love history, especially local history, and the group was an engaged one. We learned that libraries used to be membership-only, even until the 1930s; and also that Betsy Ross's father-in-law was the first reverend of New Castle's Anglican Church, shipped over from England. Bonus trivia: The first "graveyard shifts" were worked by gravediggers and cemetery maintenance workers paid extra to wait by fresh graves overnight, listening for the bell attached to recently deceased fingers in case of accidental burial. Creepy. Worth $10? I say yea.

Between registering for the tour and go-time, though, we had 20 minutes to kill. So we walked back up the street to Nora Lee's French Quarter Bistro for a quick round of beers. That place is really pretty convincing: full of dark, rich colors and macabre skeletons dancing from ceiling beams. Everything in the old town is dark polished wood and lovely.

big boy, little espresso

Our original plan was to leave New Castle early and head back to Little Italy for dinner; but after a turn around Battery Park we stopped for coffee at the Penn's Place cafe, Traders' Cove. Their back patio is beautiful, with mosaic tabletops supported by cast iron detail. They support local artisans, some of whom do tarot card readings in these October evenings, related to the ghost tours. They also make delicious mini espresso brownies (mini for a good reason), delicious recommendations to add cinammon to a soy latte for best results, and delicious beer recommendations (a Yards Thomas Jefferson Ale that turned out to have an 8% alcohol content, but was rich and hearty and fruity with just a hint of hops--perfect!).

Anyway, it was the coffee shop crew who told us about the ghost tours, and we decided to stick around town, get some food and drinks and wait for the sun to go down.

It's nice being able sometimes to just let things happen.

I think part of what makes this possible is being where you want to be. I mean this figuratively: If your feet are solidly grounded, if your eyes are set on the prize, if your arms are linked with other strong, lovely arms, you have a beautiful freedom to recognize possibilities.

If our perfect trio yesterday held on stubbornly to our schedule rather than to our company, we would have missed out on some priceless experiences. I suppose we would have done something else wonderful instead--but therein lies the beauty of it. Experiences are better shared because they are shared no matter the experience. More sensically: It doesn't matter what we do because we are doing it together.

Here's the rub, though. Those linked arms are possible because I put so much energy into discovering the hidden joys of my new home. I was the most versed person in local history on our ghost tour because I have loved drinking up the rich past of this place. I have drunk it because it's rich, and it's rich because I've drunk it.

And every person, or every group of people I share it with, it becomes richer and more delicious.

Bring on the feast, world. My people and I are ready to eat, drink and be merry.

more things to fall for, or why delaware might actually be kind of COOL

G-g-g-greetttings, readers, from the frigid state of Delaware! (...Whaaaat??)

Yeah. It's cold here. I was well aware of that from the moment I woke up, with my bedroom window wide open. (Typical.) I drove to the Y for my regular Monday morning swim, only to find the insulated winter pool closed for maintenance, and instead the outdoor pool open for business. It was supposed to be 81 degrees, and clouds of steam rising off the top supported that theory.

But when I jumped in after dancing across the icy concrete on my bare feet, the breath exploded from my lungs in classic gasp reflex form.

I'M IN DELAWARE, PEOPLE. COME ON NOW!

 All said and done, it was actually a refreshing way to start the week. Nobody could say I wasn't awake when I got to work today.

My roommates and I have been saying for at least a month now that we'll be around more, and have an easier time planning things, and maybe even SEE each other every now and then, now that summer's over.

So far this hasn't fleshed out. We literally have to clear our schedules for a simple hangout months in advance, and just so you all know if you want to get the three of us together in 2013 you'd better make the call now. Because right now we're scheduled through mid-December, and that's not counting Christmas. So good luck ever seeing us.

Here are some key points I'm looking forward to for the rest of the year:

• I've invited some of my besties from all over the Northeast and Mid-Atlantic to Wilmington for a birthday extravaganza mid-November. So far only my roomies and boyfriend (OK, and Mary and Lisa) have RSVP'd, so I'm a little worried about having space for everyone at the party... Ha. Ha.
• Then there's Thanksgiving and my actual birthday. This year, I plan to finish and ship the fruitcakes BEFORE the holiday season. Stay tuned for the second annual fruitcake saga.
• On the second Saturday in December, Old New Castle opens its historic doors to tourists. There are sales in the shops, tours of old Revolution-era mansions, toasty drinks and snacks, and festive music. You might recall the Spirit of Christmas as my first moment of endearment to this tiny old state.
• In that same post I mentioned the Santa Crawl, which I am DETERMINED TO DO this year. I swear I have been waiting since that moment to get in on the fun. This year, it's not on the same day as the Spirit of Christmas, but the week after.

Fortunately all of these things are scheduled to happen before the Apocalypse on December 21, so that's positive. Still debating if I should even bother to buy Christmas presents this year...

BUT. We all know I am not the kind to live in the future. Sort of. I refuse to put all my stock in the next two months, so instead I am predictably doing fun and interesting things left and right.

It turns out PR kicks into high gear in the fall and winter, so I'm suddenly throwing myself into my daily checklist, scraping away at it all day long, and never quite getting to the end of it. The best part of this is how many new things I'm learning about every day, from trendy high-end products to cultural rituals to economic and industry patterns and concerns.

After leaving work late almost every day, I go grocery shopping, to Zumba with my roommates, out to eat. On Wednesday Jason and I checked out Ernest & Scott Taproom on North Market Street. It's been on our radar for awhile, since they advertise in the same magazines that all our other favorite places advertise, and their selling point is a ridiculous number of delicious draft and craft beers.

We were not disappointed. Its burgers were rated #2 People's Choice in Wilmington, second to Union City Grille right around the corner from my house. I will say, Union City had some killer burgers, but Ernest & Scott's was unlike any burger either Jason or I had ever tasted before. We also tasted some pumpkin beers, and since I'm planning to write an entire post on pumpkin beers by the end of the season, I won't go into it, but I will say this: DO NOT miss a chance to taste Wolaver's Organic Pumpkin Ale. It's #1 on both of our lists so far this season.

While we were waiting for our food, and then while we played a half-hearted version of the debate drinking game (we basically just drank when anyone said "taxes"), the manager Elvis stopped by our table to talk about the business. It's new, refurbished from what used to be Public House, which I hear had a bit of a sleazy rep toward the end. Before that, it was Delaware Trust. The inside is super spacious and elegant, high-ceilinged, with beautiful antique detailing everywhere. It's named for Hemingway and Fitzgerald:

The contrast between Hemingway– the macho, gritty and somewhat disheveled character and Fitzgerald- the stylish refined aristocrat, parallel the available offerings at Ernest & Scott and aims to capture the spirit of both writers. 

Romantic indeed. Anyway, we promised we would recommend it, and I have. I do now, in fact, for great food, great beer, great ambiance, and the opportunity to support local business.

On Friday I got done with work and as I left had one of those terrifying driving moments where you realize you may have just missed a red light, or a stop sign, or one of those important things you should note while driving. So I convinced Jason to go out to Shellhammer's, which also had a delicious, if oversalted, burger. And, of course, good beer. Their Facebook page is a pretty fun one to follow. Not quite as clever as Dead Presidents', but they post tantalizing specials that make you want to go to Happy Hour every day. Yum.

We stopped at RedBox on the way out, and picked up What To Expect When You're Expecting. With an all-star cast, it looked decent. Substantial enough but mostly funny, a little romantic, but not mushy. When we put it in and started the previews, I got hooked on the preview for Friends With Kids, and decided I would FAR rather watch that, so we went on a Harold-and-Kumar adventure to every RedBox and Blockbuster Express and spin-off insta-dollar-DVD rental in the area.

An hour and a half later, we finally started Friends With Kids, which turned out to be one of those great, agonizing movies about two people who are obviously supposed to be together but everyone can see it except them, and they just keep missing each other. Cast includes some SNL staples (Kristen Wiig, Jon Hamm, Maya Rudolph) and the movie tackled the modern family/parenting issue with just the right amount of humor and reality.

And when it was over, we decided to watch the other one, which was considerably less good, with less developed characters and storyline and less substance. But funny nonetheless.

On Saturday night, the most thrilling part of my weekend, Jason borrowed a friend's season tickets to a Philadelphia Union game (soccer). I like soccer, the way the chants sound more European, the constant motion on the field, the flopping...

Plus, Union won.

This weekend also marked the first writers' meeting, the one I've been looking forward to since before I knew it existed, since I even thought about setting foot in this state. I met up with my mom there (at Panera) and got my first pumpkin spice latte of the season (smashed Dunkin Donuts' overly sweet pumpkin sludge into the ground with its goodness) and a french toast bagel. Yummm.

More to the point, we got to talk craft with more than just each other. We met some monster/comic/experimental writers, which was new for me, but well-timed for the Halloween season. I miss talking about writing for fun, and I think my mom misses it in general. She really does love to learn new things, and to write, and unfortunately she's been doing it in a vacuum for awhile now. I, on the other hand, get to talk about writing and to write every day at work. PR: Where writers go instead of journalism. I love my intellectual, grammar-freak, word-nerd work crowd. But it's good to talk about monster writing and graphic novels and where to start when writing fiction every now and then.

In college, the question is: "So what's your major?" In a group of writers, we ask, "So what do YOU write?" I say I blog, and that theoretically I write poetry although that's taken a backseat recently, and they say about what, and then I am inevitably surprised that some writers blog about things other than their own lives.

...What?!

By the way, stop by second set of baby steps, the Facebook page, and click "Like" to get an update every time I post. I waffled over posting other, related items, but I've decided to mostly keep that to a minimum. So blog only.

***

ALSO, check out our claim to fame! Last week's #WednesdayNightDateNight got us into Spark magazine, the "what's happening in Delaware for mostly young people" guide with infamously bad grammar (which I keep misspelling...) Our claim to fame:

good-lookin' couple

things to FALL for

Happy October, dear readers!

I have always said fall was my favorite season, and while I am becoming disillusioned by the fact that fall is also pretty nasty allergy season, and I'm appreciating summer more for being nice and warm, and the romance of winter (for a few weeks, anyway), and the relief of spring, I can't deny that fall still holds something special for me. In the fall everything seems sharper: the coolness of the air, the edgy yellow of the sunlight, the leaves on the trees...

I remember a conversation with my friend Elaine in college, about making the most of changing seasons. I would be willing to swear that every time winter approaches, for the rest of my life, I will think of Elaine because of this one moment. And for the life of me I couldn't tell you which year it was; it could have been freshman year or senior year. It really is just timeless.

It probably started with me saying something about how I don't really like snow, and that I can't help thinking in November how tired I'll be of winter by the time February rolls around. I remember feeling as though I was dancing on the edge of feeling differently about winter, though. When Elaine put words to the feeling it sounded so profound, the way truth sounds when someone says it right as you are coming to the same realization, but before you have thought to put words to it.

I think at that moment we made an unofficial vow to ourselves, with each other as witnesses, to henceforth make the most of every season.

And since, then, I have. First year half our dorm rallied to go sledding down Thorson Hill, on caf trays or sleds or tubes or cardboard boxes or whatever we could find. When my air mattress popped, we hauled it out there and stacked a 7-person pyramid on top of it and squeezed a little more life out of it. For example.

And this year I enjoyed my summer like I was raised in the Arctic Circle, even though I didn't have a summer vacation for the first time. (Last summer didn't count, because Sunny V had an expiration date.) And even though the summer went by so fast I hardly had a chance to see it, I'm actually really excited for fall.

I've been dancing around whether it's here or not, but this morning I hit the Y for my Monday morning swim and discovered that the outdoor pool is closed for the season. I could see the steam rising over the lane lines through the complex gates, and then headed down to the newly enclosed bubble pool, which still smelled like musty plastic and was far too warm for my taste.

Speaking of pools, I also helped my neighbor hang her inflatable pool up to dry yesterday afternoon. "We had fun splashing around this summer," she said, "but I think it's time to put it away." She seems really nice and I'm excited to get friendly with the neighbors: the younger women and their nontraditional families on either side of us; the older Italian ladies still in their family homes, who put out orange traffic cones to block off their parking spaces, much to my dismay; the young dad a few doors down who I've only nodded to when one or both of us was on our way to work or to work out.

Aside from the bittersweet end of pool season, fall also means more hours spent in the yard raking leaves or picking up chestnuts. My mom has been leaving chestnuts by the road in buckets, hoping neighbors will take them off her hands. She has been learning about them this year, though: about the blight that took down most of the chestnut trees in the region decades ago, about chestnut soup and the price per pound and how people swarm to parks on weekends to pick up chestnuts from underneath the trees.

I also learned, after seeing the strange cauliflower-y green balls scattered along my most traveled roads, that osage oranges grow around here. Last summer, Ann and I spent at least a month scouring grocery stores for them to ward off the spiders that bit Ann in her bed while she slept.

On Saturday my family went apple picking. I don't remember the last time we did this, but I can tell you I wasn't driving yet, and most of my middle school youth group was still intact (so I couldn't have been older than 15). My mom had been dropping not-so-subtle hints that she wanted to go to the orchard, so finally we took her for her birthday, and left with almost 100 pounds of apples that will become applesauce and baked apples and caramel apples (I hope) and school lunches. Jason's favorite part was the apple cider donuts. Yana enjoyed the great, colorful, American apples-and-pumpkins tradition and took plenty of photographs, and I couldn't help but notice that the place was swarming with adorable small children wearing fall-themed outfits and face paint.

Speaking of pumpkins, I was psyched last year to discover that Punkin Chunkin is a real thing -- not just what my roommates and I did in college when we needed stress relief and a break from studying. In fact, it's an international thing. AND, the annual world championship is held in Delaware! I would love to go this year, but if I end up being able to go to a very important wedding that weekend, I will put it on my bucket list for my future in this highly underrated state.

Also speaking of pumpkins, this year I am jumping into the delicious world of pumpkin beer. Last year I jumped on the bandwagon too late to really get any, so I want to urge you all earlier in the season to GET SOME! GET SOME NOW!

Yes, like all beers you will have to try several different kinds to find out what you like. Sam Adams does a pretty classic one; so does Blue Moon. Around here Dogfish Head Punkin Ale is the coveted brew, for obvious reasons; and there's Pumking and the Flying Dog one which I have yet to try. But so far? I'm all for Long Trail Brewing Co.'s Imperial Pumpkin Ale. It's heavier, darker, and sweeter without being sickly sweet. Rich and spicy. Mmmmm. I want some now!

Oh, and not a pumpkin ale but one of the best beers of my life: Iron Hill's Abbey Dubbel. Also of the dark, rich, fruity-spicy family, and so, so delicious. I am starting to think that fall beers are also my favorite. So long, summer!

So, the weather is cooling off drastically. The figs and peaches are gone from our backyard, although I noticed the patio scattered with dried-out peach pits. They're actually very pretty, but I haven't come up with anything to use them for yet. Suggestions?

I ended up on the patio yesterday because, since the fruit is gone and it is colder out, the bees and flies have also gone their merry ways, and I needed some sunshine, and I had a book to read: Catching Fire, by Suzanne Collins -- the second installment of the Hunger Games Trilogy. By now I have finished it, and put a hold on Mockingjay at my local library, and I have to say, I am not disappointed in the least. People have told me that the second and third books were disappointing after the original, but the book is fast-paced and daring and just the right amount of dark. It's well-written, too, with an intricate plot and brilliant setup. No shame: I definitely set it on the shelf with Harry Potter.

It's good to get reading again after four years of lit-heavy college and the refractory period during which I sometimes actually shuddered at the touch of a book. It's like being 10 again and spending my whole summer in hammocks and armchairs, oblivious to the real world happening around me. I'm glad not to have TV or internet or even a computer (although I might do more writing if I had one... theoretically) and I'm glad to have to find new things to do. Right now I'm blazing through easy, lively YA fiction, but for once I'm not opposed to more academic reading. I like reading articles and blurbs for more invested specimens (and I want to get my hands on JK Rowling's and Junot Diaz's new books!)

And I like listening to NPR. In fact, I'm addicted. I am like a werewolf hungry for knowledge. Or maybe what I like about NPR is that it's framed around stories, more developed than a news ticker or a 11:00 news sound bite. I'm hungry for stories. I learn about new books and music (like Ben Taylor, son of JT and Carly Simon), and about world politics, and the upcoming elections, and scientific discoveries, and even sports and the fact that this week is the 50th anniversary of James Bond hitting the big screen. It's rad.

This morning I was all over a story about the CD turning 30, maybe because I am one of the few people I know who still listens to CDs. In fact, I'm in the even smaller pool of people who still buys CDs. This is partly because I don't have a computer, but also because I am nostalgic and maybe a small amount of hipster.

The story was well-timed, 36 hours or so after I stocked up on discount CDs at Best Buy, and danced around the aisle with a guy looking for a Nas album. He doesn't trust digital music, because it's easy to lose. He likes having hard copies of things. So do I, after all the mp3s I've lost through various accidents.

As for me, I enjoyed making that random connection with a kindred spirit of sorts. I've done a lot of that lately: I met the digital mistruster, my next-door neighbor and her boyfriend, a lady at church who just retired from 18 years of being an executive chef. I asked her how she spends her time now and she said she volunteers, teaches kids how to cook, takes water aerobics classes at the Y. I want to end up like that. Never still. Having to carve out my free moments. Like my grandparents and adopted grandparents, who always say, "We'll slow down when we're old," and never seem to get there.

Life is far too full of things to fall for, too full to let them pass without a glance.