madeofglass.com

a collection of reflections by people i have known

by keren

flying_alpaca.jpg

and so my vacation continues! chile is a crazy country. i’m staying in an apartment with my mom, my sister, her two kids, our sister-in-law, two cats and one tiny yorkshire mutt puppy. the puppy is teeny tiny and unbelievably cute, but unfortunately not so potty trained. the first night i was here she took a shit on the carpet and of course i stepped in it. i was about to throw my socks away but everyone insisted i save them. i’m still ditching them though. no matter how many times you wash them they’ll always be, you guessed it, shit socks.

while being a passenger i’ve noticed that the driving situation here is totally insane. i’ve never been so afraid in a car before. and if you’re a pedestrian it’s just as bad. folks won’t stop for you, they’ll just plow ya down. me and my sis decided driving here was like playing the lottery, only with your life. also the “no parking” signs have a giant “E” on them instead of a giant “P”. it took me forever to figure them out, until it hit me one day: duh! E is for estacionar!

in case i haven’t mentioned it before, my grandmother is also totally insane. i’m reminded of this on a daily basis. today I was having tea with her and she was telling me about how her italian studies have been going. (after my grandfather died she started taking all these classes for old people and it’s been really great for her). anyway, she told me how last week her homework was too hard and she got stuck translating this one super tricky sentence. wanna know how she solved her problem? she fucking called the italian embassy. she said she got transferred six times before she finally got someone italian on the phone, and she said, “hey! i’m an elderly lady! i need help with my homework!”

in other news, the political situation here is all a’flutter. apparently there’s a huge difference in the quality of education between private schools and public schools, and somehow everyone’s frustration has reached a breaking point. the public schools have all gone on strike (the private schools too to show support) and there are protests going on downtown every day. i’m tempted to go down there and check out these teenage revolutions, but it’s probably a bad idea- violence, vandalism, arrests and all that.

just now a bunch of us were all sitting on the bed watching ET in spanish when the dog started sniffing the hell out of the cat’s butt. my niece and i were laughing hysterically and my mom and sis were just happy the pets were finally getting along. then the cat wised up and ran away and my niece picked up the dog to confirm that yes, the dog’s face now smelled like the cat’s butt. then she stuck the dog in my face so I could smell it too. ah, family livin.

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by petunia

a week and a half ago i started a job at a small community bookstore in my neighborhood. i was thrilled to be able to walk to work and to be further immersed in the culture of my lovely neighborhood, nerdily excited to get back into a bookstore again. it’s been 6 or 7 years since my last stint at barnes and noble, and i really have missed it.

other the actual fact of selling books, my new part-time gig is nothing like my days of old at B&N and doubleday. i’m not quite sure if it’s the whole small community used bookstore -vs- large retail chain thing (a la sleepless in seattle) , or maybe just the general cracked-out-ness of the atmosphere of my general store.

the bookstore is owned and has been run by a couple in their early 40s for as long as its been around. however, this dynamic seems to have been abruptly and dramatically uprooted within the past two weeks as the owners have filed for a divorce. yeah. i was told within the first hour of my first shift that part of “the settlement” that the wife was no longer allowed in the store. um, okay. so you can imagine my discomfort when said wife entered said wife-free zone approximately two hours into my first shift. she was greeted somewhat sullenly by her soon-to-be ex, and proceded to hang around in the store while he grumbled about in the background. how’s that for workplace dynamic?

other highlights of my new bookseller gig are myriad.

i was left alone in the store on my first day while my boss ran errands. i would like to be able to graciously accept this as a compliment, a testament to my boss’s belief in my level of ability and trust. however, we must all realize that i am far too neurotic to think this way and i really spent the 45 minutes he was gone trying to not freak out about fucking something up horribly.

my “paycheck” for my first week of work was a fat handful of cash my boss pulled from his pocket while assuring me he’d soon be hiring an accountant to cut proper checks “with withholding and everything.” hm.

my boss appears somewhat inept socially. he reminds me of my brother-in-law in that i can’t really get a read on him and even when angry, he appears unruffled. he neither commends me for a job well done nor tells me i’m doing poorly. at the same time, his unphased-ness doesn’t quite strike me as something cool, either. he also has announced to me (twice) that he was “going to work on the crossword” while indicating to me that he would be using the restroom by flapping the afore-mentioned puzzle toward the bathroom door. bleh.

the store is ridiculously disorganized. my boss blames this, in its entirity, on his ex-wife. i’m a little dubious. since we sell used books (a well as some new titles), there is a steady stream of books that comes into the store each day. however, since in its entrity the store is approximately twice as big as my apartment* it is super full. the stacks reach to the ceiling in some areas, and about 20% of the titles we have can only be seen by someone making use of a stepstool, or blessed/cursed with extraordinarily long legs. i am used to chain bookstore experience, in which shleving is a daily shore and books are meticulously sorted into category, subcategory, and then alphabetized. it shook my obsessive-compulsive world to be told last week that in most sections, books are piled haphazrdly into rough alphabetical order by only the first letter of the author’s last name. therefore, for example, all of tom clancy’s novels could be located in different parts of the mystery section. or actually, the sci-fi section, too, or maybe even in fiction. i’m walking a very fine line trying to keep my anal retentive compulsions in order and not alphatizing the entire store one day while my boss isn’t looking, or, er, “working on the crossword.”

i have already learned that some things simply have to differ when you are talking about used/small/independent stores versus their mainstream counterparts, but i also believe that this store could benefit from some of the things standard in a bigger place.

despite all of this, am enjoying the job. it may seem unlikely or an impossibility given all of the above, but it’s true. working at the bookstore is forcing me to adapt, challenging me to think differently, and figure out ways to make suggestions for store improvement without coming off as the bossy new girl who thinks she knows everything (since i do). and it’s certainly giving me hella good stories.

last week, i am reasonably certain that i sold a copy of in cold blood to steve buscemi. here’s how it went down. i was alone in the store around 9pm last friday night, listening to “disintegration” and trying desperately to straighten out things behind the counter while my boss wasn’t there to move everything back into precariously balanced stacks of disarray. a voice at the counter suddenly intoned, “it’s friday night. it’s raining. you’re listening to the cure. couldn’t you put on something a little more, ah, cheerful?” my head still under the counter, i replied, “our other musical choice is my boss’s leonard cohen CD so i’m gonna go ahead and say this is cheerful.” there was an appreciative guffaw and i popped to see what i am relatively certain was the distinctive snaggle-toothed grin of one mr buscemi. i must give myself major, major props at this point for not losing my shit entirely. celebrities still get my knees a-knocking and voice a-shaking, but i very calmly directed the-man-i-presume-to-be-bescemi to a copy of truman capote’s greatest book(“new or used?” i asked cooly, as i didn’t feel like i was going to pass out talking to mr pink, for godssake.)

the only reason i will not 100% swear for certain that it was definitely him is that i was doing that thing where you look at someone famous when they are standing in front of you in living color and then all of a sudden they don’t look like that celebrity anymore, just an average joe. but it is steve buscemi, for goodness’ sake. you don’t really get much more unmistakable than that, right? and besides, he does live in my neighborhood. and yes, the element of celebrities-walk-among-us still continues to thrill me. i mean, c’mon. did you really think it would wear off anytime soon???

* the world’s smallest apartment (TM)

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may

by andru


this month has flown by in a flash. i’ve been trying to pull a lot of different things together so hopefully this summer will turn out nicely. i got a pair of adidas tunit +F50s from tyghe thanks to his work’s promo department and now have world cup sponsor cleats – they’re incredible. too bad all the soccer fields are far away.

peace

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by tripp

part 2 of the u.s. 1 comic review
part 2…including: “A GIGANTIC MAZE WITH A TORNADO, A GLACIER, AND A FRIGG’N VOLCANO IN IT!” and “aliens who speak in trucker lingo who organize a race around the world in flying big rigs that shoot missiles at each other. “

whitney music box var. 0 – chromatic – 48 tines
oh snap. this is nice. it snuck by me, but im glad i found it. thanks, glenn

Things You Didn’t Know About Your Body
and knowing is half the battle

Stupid Plot Tricks
generative plots…just supply your own narrative

TimesDispatch.com | Man pleads guilty in sports-bar crash
“Richard Daniels Jr. smashed his pickup truck through the front of Mulligan’s Sports Bar and Grille on Thursday night, but the Mechanicsville pub was back in business yesterday.” oh, i love you mulligans.

Dutch Paedophiles Form Political Party
my mind is blown; im not even sure where to begin on this. i say absurd things but this is waaaay outside my notions of absurd.

weathemen names
what a great list. and i saw rick dickert on tv while i was in la, but somehow it didnt make me giggle until now.

dc comics first lesbian character – ’strange girl’
ouch.

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by roxy

i wrote a post on saturday morning, but the website ate it and i didn’t feel like reconstructing it.

right now i’m having a muscle twitch in my calf.

having a long weekend was nice. i think everyone in the office needed one. i’ve been here for over a half hour and there’s only one other person here. i like it when no one is here- i’m more productive with no (or less) interruptions. that’s why working through lunch can be such a temptation.

carter has been visiting for the weekend. she’s had the grand tour, although we might cover some new ground tonight. i’ve enjoyed having so many houseguests, but will appreciate it when things calm down.

people are coming into work. time to go.

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by tripp

crappit. the db ate my post.

carter is here this weekend, which is awesome. but i think, much to her sadness, today will be a bumming around day. i swam yesterday for the first time in quite some time and now im exhausted — i slept 11 hours last night.

petunia, im worried. i know you and i know your love of cement mixers. i dont, however, think that kelly clarkson should fall into the same category. and the fact that you think she does worries me for you.

and ray, i wouldnt be too worried about miami sound machine. 1. it could be worse, it could be the jets. and 2. its common knowledge that my favorite color as a child was pink. and i had a wonder woman doll. and my own magic lasso so i could pretend to be her as well. and we all know i turned out ok, right?

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by ray

Rebekah Rhea was born on May 16th at 2:04pm by c-section. I saw the doctor pull her from Amy’s womb, purplish in color and covered in something akin to cream cheese. She had her foot in her mouth and, being frank breech, she had very floppy legs for the first few days. She weighed in at 9 pounds even, 20.5 inches long. Amy did great, by the way. I continue to find it interesting that though Amy has done all the work to make our children (well, most of it, anyway), I am always the one that gets to cut the umbilical cord.

The first 36 hours or so went very well. Then she had an issue with low heart rate and her lips turning blue. Then she was losing too much weight. Then she was jaundiced and needed to be in a special bed whenever she wasn’t feeding. The bed was similar to a lightbox, except it had a sleeper/sheet velcroed to the front.

Now, she’s doing well. Gaining weight, good color, no more x-files baby bed. And she seems to like to poop, which I’m told is a normal occurence. I like to hold her; she fits really well in my hands and it seems like I was meant to hold her.

I should probably note that I’m pretty tired and this post is going to be all over the place, so don’t expect much in the way of plot today, folks. Suffice to say, I’m happy that she’s home and that all of us as a family are starting to work out our lives and schedules together.

Reed, my wonderful, golden-boy son has been good throughout the ordeal, with occasional bouts of exasperation with all us adults. Really now. Cooing over a little thing that can’t even speak? He’s taken to ordering us to stop talking, which would be so terribly funny if he weren’t so dire about it. He has taken to teasing us about things, though, which is amazing–this development of his sense of humor. Fantastic.

Today he was having a tough time after we got home from church. A seriously unhappy camper. I got him out the door and the two of us headed to his newest, favorite grown-up thing to do: eat lunch at Subway. I figure of all the fast food joints out there…Subway, right? He gets a couple slices of ham and cheese on a roll, no condiments, a cookie and some juice. He sits on the chair at the little table and eats, dangling his legs to the floor far below. Today, the radio was playing over the loudspeaker and he got the biggest kick out of the songs “Big ol’ jet airliner” (is that right?) and–honestly, I find this a tad disconcerting–Gloria Estefan and Miami Sound Machine doing “Mamba”. Sigh. He’s sitting in his chair just shaking it for all he’s worth as he intently ate his sandwich. And me? I’m smiling, glowing with how much I love him and how wonderful this thing is, parenthood.

I never would have imagined that one of those beautiful moments in my life would be sitting on a plastic chair in a Subway next to a gas station. Listening to Miami Sound Machine.

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