So, the thing is… this is ordinary life.

I can’t sleep without first reading a little something so a few nights ago, I picked up this book I had bought mistakenly on Amazon.com when I confused the author with another writer whose work I enjoyed.

The book, Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life by Amy Krouse Rosenthal, is one of the best books I have read.  It’s this frequently hilarious inventory of one woman’s life: random thoughts and odd statistics in alphabetical order.  Somehow, when put together, the result is much more than random.  I kept nodding my head –amazed that someone else shared some of my most inane thoughts.  Like this one, filed under “LEAVING A TIP:  When leaving a tip at the counter, I often do so with exaggerated gestures, or take a bit longer than necessary to place the dollar in the dish, just to make sure they know what a nice and generous customer I am.”

I do that too! (But I thought no one noticed.)

The best part about reading this book, other than the fact that I kept making mental notes of which friend would really appreciate which item, was that I started thinking in Encyclopedia terms.  For example, I have taken up sewing.  Well, sort of.  My sister gave me her almost brand-new, 30 year old machine and after it sat on MY shelf for a couple of years, I needed to make some pillows for my couch.  So, I pulled it out, did a little research on ‘beginner’s sewing’ online and began with great gusto.  I formed some Conclusions.  Therefore, my Encyclopedia entry about sewing would look like this:

SEWING

            It occurs to me that there are many parallels between sewing and life. 

               a. There really is such a thing as being “overstuffed” but it’s not what furniture salespeople use the word to describe.

               b. Lots of things which look really easy, like sewing a straight line and parenting, are darn hard and take a lot of concentration.

c. The faster you sew, the longer it takes to undo what you’ve done.

d. It helps to have a basic grasp of physics, especially when threading your sewing machine.

See?  And it’s totally addictive! I tried to go to sleep but found that I was writing my own Encyclopedia in my head and I just couldn’t stop.  Promise me you’ll buy this book and read it.  Promise—I swear you’ll love it.   Just manufacture some errand that will take you past a bookstore or click on this link and get it from Amazon.com. http://tinyurl.com/73tbe  (I guess I should note here that I am not employed by Ms. Rosenthal to promote her work.  I can’t even manage to do that for myself, much less any OTHER writer.)

So, here’s some of my own Encyclopedia:

A:

AMY. 

For some reason, my two most favorite new authors (new to me, anyway) both are named Amy.  Amy Krouse Rosenthal is one and she is not remotely the same woman who wrote Roseborough, Jane Roberts Wood, although I really liked that book, too.  It was the roses that got me confused.

The other Amy author is Amy Hempel, who writes sentences like, “We had a dog that was part something and part something.”  I love that kind of sentence.  (As long as you’re ordering books, check out her work.  Don’t get the latest book, though, because it’s not as good.)

ANAGRAMS

“Barb Cooper” produces the anagram “Probe Cobra.”  I really don’t think so.

ANXIOUS, THINGS THAT MAKE ME

Down Escalators:  I am afraid that I am going to miss that first step of a down escalator and I’ve feared this all my life.  I still try to hold someone’s hand.

Left and Right:  I always have a moment of panic when I have to use the directions left and right.  I KNOW my left from my right but only after I panic about it first.  I used to look for the scar I have on my left middle finger from where a squirrel bit me on the same day my family was going to Disney World when I was seven.  We went anyway but after we returned home, I was outside playing when my oldest brother came outside and was NICE to me so I knew something terrible was going on.  It turns out that our doctor thought I should have rabies shots just to be on the safe side.  Back when I was a kid, the rumor was that you had to have FIFTY shots and you had to have them in your STOMACH.  After I explained to the doctor (rather hysterically) that the squirrel had bitten me after I had closed my hand over the nut it was trying to take (I thought I’d shell the nut first.  Dumb.), the doctor decided that it wasn’t a Rabid Squirrel Running Amok but rather, a Rightfully Annoyed Squirrel.  I didn’t have to have the shots but for a long time, whenever I saw that scar, I felt like it was my fault that I’d been bitten and almost ruined our trip to Disney World. (See also: guilt, oldest brother, squirrel)

Punctuation:  I’m horrible at it.  I’ve read books to learn more but I can’t seem to fit that information into my brain.  I look at a sentence and decide it needs something and then I tentatively place a comma where I think one should go.  I usually backspace over the comma and go on to the next sentence but if I reread my piece and think a comma is necessary the SECOND time around, in it goes to stay.  I always want to send my work to my dad (who is a MASTER punctuator) to have it properly punctuated but I’m afraid that he’ll know exactly how illiterate I am.

B:

BARBARA. 

I like my name but it just doesn’t seem to fit me.  It’s hard to alter it appropriately.  I use the nickname “Barb” but it seems like I should be bigger and drive a tractor if I’m a Barb.  Babs is out of the question.  I hate it when people call me Barbie because I really hate Barbies.  Hate them.  Hate that my daughters love them. 

I do like that my mother named me Barbara just because she really liked the name and not because of some familial obligation, though.  I like that Barbara is Greek in origin. (In Greek, the B’s sound like V’s, which tickle to say.)  I like that it means Mysterious Stranger.  But I just never liked it as a name for me.  I don’t really LOOK like a Barbara, who is surely someone more scholarly and serious than I am. 

When I was learning to write my name, I could never figure out where it ended so I’d write, “Barbararararara.”  Finally, I learned to count to seven and stop there.  Now I stop before I even get to those troubling but cheerful syllables.  Barb.  No anagrams but one cannot have everything.  No tractor either.

C

CHILDREN

            My children are the greatest miracles of my much-blessed life.  I don’t take credit for them, exactly, because I feel more like the train track that brought them into the station.  But if I die tomorrow, I die knowing that I made the world a better place by bringing those two into it.  My life may be ordinary in every other way but THEY make it extraordinary.

COMMITMENT

I can never spell it and I always thought this was a sign that maybe I had problems with the concept.  Turns out that I don’t.  (See also: children, dogs, looking for meaning)

I could go on (See also: verbosity) but I’ve already exceeded my word count and you’ve got books to read.  I had this great idea, though.  You all should send me your own entries for an Encyclopedia of Ordinary Parenting.  If I get enough of them, I’ll compile some of the best entries in a future column.

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(c) Barbara Cooper 2005

Barbara Cooper is the mother of Ana (7) and Jane (4).  She lives in Austin, Texas and after she had finished this column, she went for a run and the first song she heard was called "Extraordinary Life."  Coincidence?  Read the book!