I'm Your Biggest Fan

He was my father's age and reminded me a great deal of my uncle. Strawberry blonde, sun baked skin, rough, working hands and a certain glint in his eye that danced the line between madness and mischief.

"So, you live around here then?"
"Yep, we've been here about 8 years."
"In old town?"
"Nope, just down the road."
"Oh, in those big houses with the airplanes."

Dodge, parry. I wasn't about to give the man my address.
He was chatty and we soon discovered we'd both grown up in the same state. It kinda went like this...


"You ever hear of the mormons?"
"Yes, I was raised mormon."
"Me, too."

He leaned in and lowered his voice.

"You a polygamous?"
"Nope, one is plenty. Isn't it?"
"Ol' Joe was purty smart though. Gettin' men to give ten percent for all the women they wanted to have. 'Cause you know what men think with don't you?"

There was a long pause, as if he really expected me to answer this question. He wanted to expound on his topic. Instead, I opted to change the subject.

"Oh, look. We do have that book on metal detection. Let me show you were it is."
"You gonna be here in a couple of days when I return this book?"
"I'm here all the time but if I'm not someone else would be happy to help you."
"No, you're the best I only want you to help me."

Heh, heh (that would be nervous laughter). Wow, let me just add another slightly bent fan to my fan club. Wonderful.

Ahoy, Matey!

A middle aged man came into the library. Short, dark, with a small box under his arm. "Do you have any books on coins--old coins?" We were able to find what he needed and the man was excited. So much so, that in his excitement he began to talk.

"So my buddy sold them to me from his car. I've got like three more boxes in my car. I hope I didn't get ripped off. I paid a couple hundred dollars for these."

Somehow I don't think he was the one getting ripped off. He opened the box to let me see. The coins were in plastic collectors sleeves. Beautiful older coins. My coworker noticed that at least one coin was worth hundreds of dollars.

The man said he was going to buy a new car and come back and show it to us. He never did. It's a mystery coming and going.

Pressed into Service

Y, oh, Y did I have to choose the next book for my Read & Feed Book Club? There are a couple of complications.
First, it's a husband/wife book club. That may not sound so bad but think about it. When was the last time you both read and enjoyed the same book?
Second, the book needs some sort of food tie in. Someplace all eight of us can sit and discuss the book. That I can work with and stretch if need be.
Third, I work with these people. We need something interesting enough to discuss but not uncomfortable the next day.

I've been through lists of best sellers, recommended reads, must reads, you name it. I've narrowed the list and scanned for content. Some topics may be a little too close to home (I'll let you decide which). Loss of a child no, prostitution out(get your mind out of the gutter), war theme nyet, mushy romance nope, S&M definitely out(do I look like I'd know?), so that leaves me with exactly--nothing. Well, I overstate, I did manage to squeeze one out.

May I have the envelope, please. (drum roll)
And the winner is...

The House of Sleep by Jonathan Coe

Oh, but wait, I just really love...

Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

Hmmm, this one shows promise...

City of Refuge by Tom Piazza

Alright, so I haven't narrowed it to just one yet but I will. Promise. Even if it comes down to a coin toss. All I can say is, it's a good thing we don't meet again until January.

Kids Say the Darndest Things

A father came into the library with his two boys in tow. The oldest boy was in those few sweet teen years before the drivers license, the dating, the drama. He was trying to keep his rambunctious little brother in check while his dad asked for directions. The little guy was just big enough to peer in the book drop slot, probably about 5. The little one was bouncing off the walls yammering away while his older brother tried valiantly to keep him at arms length. Under his breath he would tell the little one to knock it off. He wanted to be with the adults. Little bro didn't like being ignored and started hitting big bro. Big bro inadvertently hit little bro in his "junk" while warding him off.

"My junk! You hit me in my junk! You*@#%#$@*!" On and on he loudly spouted obscenities in his piping little boy voice.

Big bro woodenly looked on as the onslaught continued, apparently mortified. He valiantly tried to distance himself from the foul mouthed little one. Dad thought it was funny and gave a little chuckle and smiled at me. I blushed furiously and expedited the directions.

No, really, not so cute. Not so funny. That poor kid. He's obviously not going to learn the value of holding his tongue from his father or when and how to use language appropriately. Someone give that man a bar of soap.

Peanut Butter Fiasco

Once again my brilliance astonishes me. I put together an odor lesson plan for the kiddos in my group. We read Smelly Bill and My Dog is as Smelly as Old Socks. We made Smelly Sam sock puppets and then, the coup de gras, odor experiment.

I filled paper cups with different things: honey, mint tea, pickles, mustard, and peanut butter. Then I covered the cups in foil and poked a hole in the top. We sent the cups around the group and they got to identify each scent. Great fun. The kids loved it. Only one minor kink in the plan. After sending around the peanut butter one little girl says, "Peanut butter, I'm allergic to peanut butter." The little girl next to her turns and says, "Hey, me too!"

While they were bonding, my mind is racing. Oh my god! Can smelling peanut butter cause a reaction? Should I head it off and have them chew on a few antihistamines? Do we have an epi pen? What a block head. Sending not one but two children to the hospital, not good. That's got to be some kind of record.

Thank God, they were fine. There was no reaction. And Nincompoop learned her lesson.


Anybody want a peanut?

Bloody Mary

A moment of Ewww brought to you by the month of October. Imagine, if you will, a sweet little elderly woman, we'll call her Mary, returning her stack of library books.

"Oh, dear, I seem to be bleeding. Do you have a band-aid? This getting old really stinks. Your skin just gets thinner and thinner."

After numerous paper towels and a band-aid, Mary was on her way. It was only after she left that we noticed the blood on the books. I think that might be a health code violation.

But, not to worry, the books are out of circulation - pardon the pun.

Say Cheese!

"Hey, has anyone lost their teeth? I found this set back in the fiction."
I kid you not.
The teeth were later claimed. Those puppies are expensive.
But what I'm wondering is... why do you take your teeth out at the library in the first place? Is it more comfortable to read sans teeth? It helps your concentration and focus? Denture cream failure? Looking for something to sink your teeth into? I'll stop now.
I suppose it will remain a mystery. But it definitely makes the list for strangest lost and found item at the library to date. Not quite Flannery O'Connor but, hey.

Possible reads:

The Skin of our Teeth

Possible authors:

Pearl S. Buck
EB White