A Single Layer

Some things you weren't interested in knowing: 75% of my blog readers use Firefox rather than Internet Explorer or Safari. If you're in the minority there, you might consider finding out what all the hype is about. Funny, none of them use Opera. But then, who does? Perhaps it is the same 75% using Macs rather than PCs. Clearly my blog is geared toward a Portfolio-type readership. Hmm... I can also determine the screen resolution of my readers. And the keywords they may have used to find me. All this, but I do not know their names.

pretty book covers

Oh dear Jesus, the Holocaust is in the hearts of men.

Nathaniel, my DVD keeps skipping! 'The Pickwick Papers', to be specific. On episode three, which is apparently important because the part it will play shows the insidious actor making off with the country gentleman's sister - whom we all know is meant for the portly fellow traveling with Mr. Pickwick! Can you return DVDs to Amazon? I don't know how that works. It's clearly not scratched... I wonder if they just tried to put too much movie on one disc.... Watching the ocean and the bluff, not much is happening today yet. No joggers or waddlers, no remarkable sailboats, no pirates. What a disappointment.

My dad's birthday is tomorrow. What should we do? What should I get him? I dunno.... dad's birthdays are always so difficult!!!

It's so very late at night and I should be fast asleep with all I have planned tomorrow. But closing tonight was pure misery, and I fueled myself with black tea - which is, mysteriously, still in my system. The last few days have been glorious, what with my recent visitations and watching dolphins leap from the waves in Crystal Cove (Yes, Jenny B, I went back. I had to take them to breakfast somewhere, so why not the best breakfast place I know?), and getting an enormous birthday package from my brother (note to bloggers everywhere: don't be shy; post your b-day wishes for all to see! you just might get something. or everything. like 15 Victorian film adaptations in deluxe boxed sets. yes!! Nathaniel James, you are my favorite brother of them all. but please don't think you need to buy your way into anyone's heart, oh prince amongst men!), and seeing Jenna!!! what a fabulous surprise! and meeting new Coloradans. and old ones. I hope to be able to steal photos from Jenn

Today I am visited by three ghosts. er... friends. We are going to brunch on the beach. We are going to frolic in the surf. We are going to take pictures (which I will steal from Kathryn to post here, if I can). But to do all this I need to get out of my pajamas and into a car.

Having recently read Shannon Hale's Bayern series, beginning with The Goose Girl , I might actually consider purchasing a pair of these .

Headed to the desert for the weekend to see long lost friends, suddenly found (thanks to national airlines). Brother finally discovered my blog; we may see him in the comment box from now on. Oh, and tomorrow is my birthday. Still in the mid-twenties. I'm noticing more grey hair - but not noticing any new wrinkles.

Just to share the love, I now twitter . Anyone interested in the origin of my twitter address really needs to read The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman.

and God said 'Let there be light' - and it was good. and he said 'Let there be land and water' - and it was good. and God made all the animals for the earth, the fish for the sea, and the birds for the air - and it was good. then God made Man in his own image and Man was very good. but God was a romantic. so he let the heart of Man roam free.

all the nights that i confuse the 76 sign for the moon, wondering if hours ago you saw the same and thought of me - unexpectedly. only to remember yet again: it's the dimming beacon of the gas station. do all my sentiments seem like this to you? the glory made gaudy - the luminous, ludicrous - my love song out of tune. drive down the 605. forget my mistakes. pull into place beside the curb. sleep like a baby. wake to the cat in the window. read at the piano. hem haw and hustle back to the grindstone till darkness fall, i pull out again, glance up through the trees into the night sky. see the 76 sign.

Lent is over, Holy Week is passed, and I think I wasted it all. I feel like I'm only now, the Monday after, beginning to recall the Lenten spirit, to remember the ache of penitence, to feel the pressure in my knees as they yearn to hit the floor. I mentioned it on facebook, that marvelous forum of spiritual dialogue, that I am a girl of Good Friday. I don't think I'll really learn to celebrate Easter till the Resurrection of Us. Maybe this is a good thing, finding Lent on my own. In my own time. I don't really think so - I'm mad at myself, actually. It's irresponsible and unsafe, how much of my faith is walked outside of communion.

pretty paintings.

'Were you there when they crucified my Lord? Yes, we were there when we crucified our Lord. Recognizing the line that runs through every human heart, no longer do we try to draw the line between "them" and "us." Who can look long and honestly at the victims and perpetrators of history's horrors and say that this has nothing to do with me?... Knowing myself and fearing God, knowing a thousand big and little things that I have done and failed to do, I cannot deny that I was there. In ways I do not fully understand, I know that I, too, did the deed, wielded the whip, drove the nails, thrust the spear. 'About chief of sinners I don't know, but what I know about sinners I know chiefly about me. We did not mean to do the deed, of course. The things we have done wrong seemed, or mostly seemed, small at the time. The word of encouragement withheld, the touch of kindness not given, the visit not made, the trust betrayed, the cutting remark so clever and cruel

Precise o'clock, waiting at the window for me to arrive, knowing I'll not wander to another room, but with my coat over my shoulder scooping the stuff to silence the wail and the wiggle round my ankle, then scratch, then leave you be. An hour later watching from the window, another cat shivers in the road having borne the truck over its dashing body. Quick as a wink, still it lost the game. Kept the cat on my lap as long as I could - unfriendly thing squirming beneath my hands. Be still! I saw you die beneath the wheel! Be still. She wiggles her way out of my grip making her own choices. Fool. Foolish fool of an idiot, fool. He kneels on the dinner floor, wrapping the towel around his wrinkled tunic. Not me, what? Unless you wash, I'll not be part? Then clean the whole and let me drink in all of you. Sweet sentiments. But watch me squirm, run, and feel the weight of my mistake pin me to the floor. Be clean! Be still! Gather my parts to be present here. Set me down in one pi

Enough people have asked me what I want for my birthday, that I have decided to post a wishlist on this blog. I know that twenty-six is long past the age of getting significant presents, but I also know that there are some people who will buy me things anyway. So I might as well. DVDs and music seem to be the fallback for me. It's difficult to get me something I don't like in this arena - but a list might be helpful. I guess. So I need to replace my copy of The Village, allegedly stolen by druggies. This is a must. I keep forgetting, and then regretting that I don't have it. I don't have any film adaptations of Dickens novels - and no, I don't want Nicholas Nickleby. I like Our Mutual Friend and David Copperfield best. I would love some classic Hitchcock films. I'm not interested in any of the ones with Carey Grant. But I like all of the others. Except maybe the Birds. And I simply love How to Steal a Million with Audrey Hepburn and Peter O'Toole. I don'