I blog so infrequently that it's more appropriate to call one post a "quarterly report." Even as I'm trying to write this I am at a loss as to what to report, but I will try.
- Work is challenging, but I am learning a lot.
- I am getting really burned out from still being in school, and am terrified to take Research Methods this summer.
- I am getting really burned out from cataloging so many Osmond live concert DVDs.
- My niece and nephew are cute and funny.
- I am getting another niece or nephew this year!
- I'm going to NYC with Robby and his brother next month. I can't wait!
- I get to go to ALA annual again this June. It's in New Orleans this year. I can't wait!
- Today I sat outside while eating homemade sorbet that was actually melting in the sun on my balcony. What a good feeling.
- I planted some flower seeds in a couple of pots. Hopefully they live to replace the ones I let die last fall.
- I like pink and blue together.
- I've gone running twice this week and actually liked it.
- Books I've enjoyed in the last few months: Moby Dick, Evelina, A Separate Peace.
- I got a lemon verbena candle from Target. I like it, but it keeps reminding me of this expensive lemon verbena ice cream I got once from Momofuku Milk Bar in NYC that honestly tasted like dish soap.
- Here is my favorite quote about spring. I think of it every time it snows/freezes too late in the year.
"With so many trees in the city, you could see the spring coming each day until a night of warm wind would bring it suddenly in one morning. Sometimes the heavy cold rains would beat it back so that it would seem that it would never come and that you were losing a season out of your life. This was the only truly sad time in Paris because it was unnatural. You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rain kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason. In those days, though, the spring always came finally but it was frightening that it had nearly failed. "
-- Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast
