Library Is Open

Something monumental happened today--I got a library card. Boy it's been a few years since I've checked out books from a library, but they're pretty conveniently located in Boston and Somerville. The Brookline Library Main Branch is just a block or two from from my office. It's in an old marble building with archways and a dark, wood reading room an approachable amount of shelves. Nothing too intimidating--except maybe the unsmiling, balding lady who signed me up. (How does one deal with lady-balding? That would be a challenge.) I picked out two memoirs, hoping for some creative inspiration. One is a memoir by Grace Coddington, the creative director at Vogue, and the other is by a coworker who I don't talk to. It's Molly Birnbaum's Season to Taste about losing her sense of smell. It's funny how weird I feel about reading her blog and her book. Clearly, they're public and for sale, but she does work in my building (though not in my department). I feel like a freshman in high school, spying on a cool upper classman. I'm sure she has no idea who I am. But I like her. 

Herbal Tincture

I'm off coffee again after nearly a year of good behavior. In its stead, I've been sipping various spiced teas (decaf chai, this kava tea that knocks me out and burned the entire inside of my mouth today). But the best replacement I've come up with yet is a home remedy: just a few slices off a knobby thumb of ginger and mint leaves all smashed up a bit in my mug. With a healthy shot of honey (for my aching throat), it's a soothing herbal remedy. I like to call it my tincture--even though I don't know what that word means and upon looking it up am only half right (it is herbal; it is not alcoholic). 

It's a gloomy, rainy day in Somerville, which means it's just right for a cup of tea. I'm feeling a bit glum myself after another little breakup. Little ones--I have a pile of them by now. But this one was nice while it lasted. I often think my life will be a string of these short-lived and all-encompassing relationships followed by a recovery period. I don't feel it defines me, so I don't mind it. Sometimes lonesome days are just what the doctor ordered--so to speak

I ran across this article today by a coworker who I actually haven't ever talked to; it stood out to me.