Did you ever notice that after a really hard cry, all it leaves you with is an exhausted heart and a headache from hell? Furthermore, did you also notice that no medicine in the world can take away that kind of headache?
Maybe that’s what someone should invent. Specifically a “Post-Tears Headache medicine,” but with a better name. Help me out here. “No more tears, your headache’s gone?” Suggestions?
I’m a Blogsliner. Plain and simple. I’m not as savvy with the computer as people seem to think so as RSS feeds go I pick the nice cotton candy way to view my favorite sites. A couple of my favorites that I frequent are:
-the obvious Dooce, who I think is brilliantly funny and sometimes I think is just me in some parallel universe
–The Sneeze who wins me over with his occasional experimental eating entries
-and finally Robot Johnny who participates in Illustration Friday, but also seems clever and cute and I think I want to meet him.
Today Robot Johnny shared something wonderful with me. Well, okay he shared it with the Internet, but I felt like he was speaking to me. He has finally found something he’s been searching years for and I had even rooted him on from my Pacific Northwest perch hoping he would be successful in finding his Holy Grail. Library Thing [dot] com.
My sister, Maddy, used to have all her books catalogued in a steno pad and she made me a library card so I could check books out from her. I may have already referenced this in an old blog entry, but even then I racked up late fees. A nickel here and there sure adds up when you’re 8 years old.
So Mad, check out this site. Wouldn’t it have been wonderful if we had this back then? I know it was only 1984 and we didn’t even have a computer yet (or maybe we already had our IBM PCjr and were programming simple games with 10 think of a color 20 type color 30 if red go to 40… What is that, BASIC?) but wouldn’t Library Thing have been a much easier way to track your little sister’s overdue items?
As a little girl my dad was away on cruise a lot (for you non-military brats, this means he was off on the USS Enterprise for months on end, flying his A-6 on and off the ship, cruising around some ocean somewhere, with ports in exotic lands from which he would send me postcards) so up until I was 7 years old I was used to my mom putting me to bed and bringing me water every time I yelled for her (which was usually at least three times a night). When my dad would be home for a stint here and there it was always a bit disconcerting to call for water and have him bring me a glass. Here was this man I had yet to form a relationship with coming into my dark room telling me I should really be asleep. Yes Sir, Daddy.
Luckily, it turned out my dad was not the drill sergeant father I feared him to be and over time I started to look forward to him putting me to bed. At a certain point he stopped having to go away on the ship and we got to have him home all the time. Occasionally when he would put me to bed he would come in and tuck the sheets in tight around me and tell me, “Close your eyes and pretend your camping in a forest somewhere and you can hear the sounds of nature all around you and it’s beginning to rain. Listen to the rain pattering on the tops of the trees and the tent and you are all snug and warm in your sleeping bag.†I loved this. The sound of rain was always something I liked or maybe this is what started that love for rain. Sometimes he would describe us as being in the back of a truck with a canopy covering us and the rain sounding tin-like on the roof. He didn’t do this every night, but I can even remember a couple times in high school when he came in to make sure I was going to bed and would reenact this tucking in routine.
To this day, I love the sound of rain. Currently I’m working at a clinic where there is a giant skylight over the nursing station. And when I say skylight I really mean the entire ceiling is like the pyramids at the Louvre. It’s been raining here in Spokane and around 3pm each day I sit in one of the Nurse’s chairs and close my eyes as the rain beats down above us. There are moments you can’t hear each other speak because it is so loud. And I think it might be the most peaceful thing in my life right now.