Tuesday, January 19, 2010


I am so in love with libraries right now. On Saturday I went to the BPL and tried self-checkout for the first time. The guard said I did a good job. I've started requesting books online; surprisingly, I was able to get Elizabeth Gilbert's latest book-just out this month-in about a week.

I read it quickly, and although it wasn't our official book-club selection, people have strong opinions about EG and when she came up in conversation she ended up being the focus of the conversation. Feelings about her seem to split between those who wholeheartedly approve of and love her and those who think she is a spoiled, whiny rich lady. I'm more the former and while I can see where the latter is coming from, it also makes me a little sad because why shouldn't she travel the world to heal her heart if she can? It's not as if she was running around beheading kittens and smothering refugees.

Anyhoo, on Wednesday night I sat around talking about EG. On Thursday night I stayed up late reading about EG's marriage.

On Friday morning, I tried a hip hop yoga class (more on that in an upcoming post) at a studio in downtown Boston. As I was exiting the studio through a pair of glass doors there was a woman coming in. I tried to go through the door she wasn't using but it was locked, so there was a moment of confusion and awkwardness. I felt like maybe the woman was looking at me funny but then I realized holy sh*t it's Elizabeth Gilbert and she must have thought the reason I waited inside the door was because I recognized her, hence her looking at me funny-but then I DID recognize her, and I thought "I was just reading about your marriage" and she knew I knew who she was and it was all very meta or something else totally not meta but I can't think of another word.

She held the door for me, I said thank you, and that was that. Well, except for me walking to the T thinking "That was EG! That was EG! I wish I had a cell phone so I could tell somebody!" But I didn't have the cell phone and nobody on the mean streets of Boston would have given a crap. Nor should they have.

But I gave a crap, and I enjoyed it.


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