This afternoon, I'll be going to back to the town where we lived for seven years. It's a place where people say "might could," as in "I might could pick up some hot dogs for the picnic." This used to drive me crazy when I lived there. Pick one, for God's sake, I'd think.
But now--AND DO NOT TELL BRANDON THIS--from the distance of four years, I've come to appreciate the phrase, its extreme tenuousness. I might could pick up some hot dogs for the picnic, but don't count on it, okay? Chances are that I won't come to the picnic at all, actually. You probably want to ask around. What I'm saying is don't put all your eggs in my basket because my basket has a tendency to take a nap in the afternoon.
I'm going there for a radio program, Insight. It's a call-in show, so if you or your frends have some (easy) questions, lay 'em on me. I'll be on from 3 to 4. The call-in number is 1-888-967-2825, and Virginians can listen to it like so:
103.5 FM Charlottesville
91.3 FM Farmville
90.7 FM Harrisonburg and the Shenandoah Valley
89.9 FM Lexington
94.5 FM Winchester
Friday, May 18, 2007
Thursday, May 17, 2007
May 17, 2007
Today, someone will look at her egg carton and think, "May 17?! Maybe I'll make an omelette for dinner." Today someone set their timer to record the season finale of his favorite show. May 17 is someone's first day of her last period. Someone else will be wracked with labor pains, but in between contractions when her body has room for her mind, it will occur to her that she (please don't let me labor for more than 24 hours) knows the birthday of her new child.
There are people who keep track of dates, and years from now a couple will be at dinner with friends, or maybe some co-workers, and they'll be asked, "So when did you two meet?" And one of them, the one that keeps track of dates, will tell the story that has become part of their couple lore. We were at a party. We were at work. We were right in the middle of doing the hokey-pokey--turning ourselves around, right, honey? "It was May 17, 2007," that person will say and sigh the way people do when they're satified with their memories.
Today, someone will vow that she'll remember the date. Right now, someone is moving into a house. Maybe this person is newly divorced. This morning, this person went to the lawyer's and signed documents in which she wrote her name and May 17, 2007, over and over. At the end of the morning, she takes her keys and drives to the brick house. Maybe neighbors left a pot of geraniums on the porch or a bottle of champagne in the kitchen. Maybe she feels fragile yet hopeful. The window sills are dusty but the flowers really are a nice touch, she'll think. I'll never forget this day. The memory of that emotional state will stay with her, although the date itself will fall away, overwritten by new birthdays of people she hasn't yet met.
Other things, worse things, will surely happen on May 17, 2007. Someone will say something that he or she can't take back. Someone will get an injury that turns into a scar. Someone will get a troubling diagnosis. Someone will speak to a person she loves for the last time, but with all luck, she will have said what she always meant to.
I think the odds are pretty good that, somewhere in the world, this is how May 17, 2007 goes down for some people. Odds are better, though, that for most people it's a regular day, winding anonymously away, the fate of most of the calendar.
This is all to say that today is not all about me. But, on the other hand? My first book comes out today, and I can't help but basking in May 17, 2007.
There are people who keep track of dates, and years from now a couple will be at dinner with friends, or maybe some co-workers, and they'll be asked, "So when did you two meet?" And one of them, the one that keeps track of dates, will tell the story that has become part of their couple lore. We were at a party. We were at work. We were right in the middle of doing the hokey-pokey--turning ourselves around, right, honey? "It was May 17, 2007," that person will say and sigh the way people do when they're satified with their memories.
Today, someone will vow that she'll remember the date. Right now, someone is moving into a house. Maybe this person is newly divorced. This morning, this person went to the lawyer's and signed documents in which she wrote her name and May 17, 2007, over and over. At the end of the morning, she takes her keys and drives to the brick house. Maybe neighbors left a pot of geraniums on the porch or a bottle of champagne in the kitchen. Maybe she feels fragile yet hopeful. The window sills are dusty but the flowers really are a nice touch, she'll think. I'll never forget this day. The memory of that emotional state will stay with her, although the date itself will fall away, overwritten by new birthdays of people she hasn't yet met.
Other things, worse things, will surely happen on May 17, 2007. Someone will say something that he or she can't take back. Someone will get an injury that turns into a scar. Someone will get a troubling diagnosis. Someone will speak to a person she loves for the last time, but with all luck, she will have said what she always meant to.
I think the odds are pretty good that, somewhere in the world, this is how May 17, 2007 goes down for some people. Odds are better, though, that for most people it's a regular day, winding anonymously away, the fate of most of the calendar.
This is all to say that today is not all about me. But, on the other hand? My first book comes out today, and I can't help but basking in May 17, 2007.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Thing One, Thing Two
I'd fantasized about filling out this HotSeat questionnaire in The Hook for years, but I was still stumped on a few questions. Like "what people find most annoying about you." The truth is maybe that I start far too many sentences with "I read about this study..."
Yesterday, I read in Newsweek about this study that suggests that people who can recognize fear in other people's faces are more likely to be empathetic. "Those better at recognizing fear—but not other expressions—later donated more money and time to help a (fictitious) college student who, they were told, had recently lost her parents in a car accident. In a second study, participants rated the attractiveness of strangers in photographs. Once again, those better at recognizing fear expressions were more considerate of others' feelings: they rated people as more attractive, but only when they were told that the individuals would learn their scores—and could therefore be hurt."
Interesting, no?
*
In case I haven't repeated this in a hynotizing tone enough: I'm reading at New Dominion Bookshop tomorrow at nooooooon. Please come seeeeeee me.....
Yesterday, I read in Newsweek about this study that suggests that people who can recognize fear in other people's faces are more likely to be empathetic. "Those better at recognizing fear—but not other expressions—later donated more money and time to help a (fictitious) college student who, they were told, had recently lost her parents in a car accident. In a second study, participants rated the attractiveness of strangers in photographs. Once again, those better at recognizing fear expressions were more considerate of others' feelings: they rated people as more attractive, but only when they were told that the individuals would learn their scores—and could therefore be hurt."
Interesting, no?
*
In case I haven't repeated this in a hynotizing tone enough: I'm reading at New Dominion Bookshop tomorrow at nooooooon. Please come seeeeeee me.....
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Good Morning
If you ordered Practically Perfect through Brain, Child, then your signed copy? It's officially in the mail, hurtling through the United States Postal Service to you. That was the excellent part of my morning, the part that felt very rock star.
The other part of the morning I spent feeling like an S&M rodeo clown, standing topless except for a cape and little silver pasties, watching my breasts get the lock-down. It was mammogram morning, which turned into ultrasound mid-morning and ended, fortunately, with a clean bill of mammary health. "The doctor says it looks normal!" the technician told me. I was sort of hoping for "magnificent," but, really, I'm not complaining.
The other part of the morning I spent feeling like an S&M rodeo clown, standing topless except for a cape and little silver pasties, watching my breasts get the lock-down. It was mammogram morning, which turned into ultrasound mid-morning and ended, fortunately, with a clean bill of mammary health. "The doctor says it looks normal!" the technician told me. I was sort of hoping for "magnificent," but, really, I'm not complaining.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Monday Meatballs
I got a birth announcement from my mom on Saturday: Trudy, the dove with the blue eye shadow, had her baby. Jill has named her Mackenzie Grace.
*
I've been a reading fool lately. Over the weekend, I finished Allen Shawn's Wish I Could Be There: Notes from a Phobic Life. It's a good read--he combines his own story with a lot of really compelling research from psychology, neuroscience, and evolutionary biology in an effort to understand his anxiety, panic, and phobias. If you have a phobia and think it's a good idea to avoid the situation that brings out the phobia, this book will cure you of that notion, tout de suite.
I also picked up Horseradish by Lemony Snicket because I'm exactly the sort of sucker that will purchase anything with Daniel Handler's or Lemony Snicket's name on it. Here's an example of why: "One of the world's most popular entertainments is a deck of cards, which contains thirteen each of four suits, highlighted by kings, queens, and jacks, who are possibly the queen's younger, more attractive boyfriends."
I also read a mystery I enjoyed quite a bit, but afterwards I felt as if it might have had anti-choice messages in it. (My political paranoia: ruining one book at a time!) However, I can recommend the silent-on-abortion mystery Dope.
*
A grateful shout-out to the ladies who came to the Mom Expo. I had an excellent time. If you missed it, this is the interview Steph and I reenacted. I got to be Lesley Stahl. Score!
*
I've been a reading fool lately. Over the weekend, I finished Allen Shawn's Wish I Could Be There: Notes from a Phobic Life. It's a good read--he combines his own story with a lot of really compelling research from psychology, neuroscience, and evolutionary biology in an effort to understand his anxiety, panic, and phobias. If you have a phobia and think it's a good idea to avoid the situation that brings out the phobia, this book will cure you of that notion, tout de suite.
I also picked up Horseradish by Lemony Snicket because I'm exactly the sort of sucker that will purchase anything with Daniel Handler's or Lemony Snicket's name on it. Here's an example of why: "One of the world's most popular entertainments is a deck of cards, which contains thirteen each of four suits, highlighted by kings, queens, and jacks, who are possibly the queen's younger, more attractive boyfriends."
I also read a mystery I enjoyed quite a bit, but afterwards I felt as if it might have had anti-choice messages in it. (My political paranoia: ruining one book at a time!) However, I can recommend the silent-on-abortion mystery Dope.
*
A grateful shout-out to the ladies who came to the Mom Expo. I had an excellent time. If you missed it, this is the interview Steph and I reenacted. I got to be Lesley Stahl. Score!
Friday, May 11, 2007
Mixed Nuts
Listen, I'm not one to pass up a holiday, particularly when I can score some new electronics. But I was just thinking about this Mother's Day, and it occurred to me that more than a few people I know are going to be experiencing mixed emotions on Sunday.
(Mixed emotions, sort of fitting for Mother's Day, no?
I'm as happy as a boy can be
Because I'll act like an insane monkey at brunch,
Yet Mommy still loves me!)
So, anyway, this is just to say that I'm thinking of everyone whose holiday will be bittersweet.
*
Confidential to Mamasan: Your fabulous gift from us is, apparently, "in progress," according to the internet. Until then, this is will have to do in the putting-a-smile-on-your-face department.
I love you, you amazing lady. See you in a couple weeks!
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Listen Up
Lately, I've been standing in front of the microwave timer, talking out loud. Simon and Luna, my dogs, respond to this by scampering around and looking hopefully from me to the treats, the treats to me. Maybe this is a new code, I can see them wondering. Maybe when she says, "I'm Jennifer Niesslein" or when she says, "And now I'm going to read..." a fake bacon strip might follow.
Sorry, dawgs. I'm practicing for a couple of events, and if you're in Charlottesville, I'd love love love for you to come to one or both.
On Saturday, May 12, Stephanie and I will be talking at the Mom Expo at the UVA Hospital from 1 to 2. It's mostly a Brain, Child event and we'll be talking about motherhood in the media. I've convinced Steph to reenact with me something we saw on TV, so watch out for the acting chops!
On Thursday, May 17, I'll be doing a reading for Practically Perfect at New Dominion Bookshop at noon. It's the official release date of the book, and if you think a pleasant way to spend your lunch hour is in a sunny bookstore, followed by lunch on the Downtown Mall, then I'm here to tell you that you're absolutely right.
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