Ah, note passing. I thought with texting, it had gone the way of the typewriter. It's nice to know some things persist.

Remember the thrill of the note? Hoping the teacher didn't intercept and share it with the class.

I was part of the IBTC club (If you don't know, I won't elaborate), each note was filled with embarrassing imaginary escapades- complete with drawings, and cliff hanger endings. Thank heavens they were never intercepted or I would have died of mortification. But I wish I still had them, they were hilarious.

At the library, a real gen-u-ine note dropped from the leaves of a book, just begging to be read.

Do you like Josh?
Why?
I think he totally likes you.
Why?
Because he was totally looking at your butt.

Pure drivel, but the spelling was excellent. Standing there holding that little square of college ruled paper made me nostalgic.

Monster Mash

I have seen evil incarnate and he is about four feet tall. I am afraid, very afraid.

Touseled brown hair, he came in with his much larger "host". In hind sight, his choice of books was slightly ominous: ambulance books. He is training to be a lawyer or a homicidal maniac. The single ENF ambulance book on the shelf wasn't enough and he quickly turned on me.

"I want more books!" It may sound innocent enough but I must stress the pitch perfect grating, bone jarring whine in which it was delivered. The parasitic child attached himself to my retreating back after dad said "no".

I sank down at my desk relieved to have a reprieve but, no, it was not to be. I heard a voice from behind, "Why do you have lipstick?" His small hand pointed to the scented highlighters for summer reading.
"Those are for teenagers in the summer reading program. Are you in the summer reading program?"
"No, but I want one."
"Sorry, hon. It's only for the kids in the program."
"But I want it."

On and on in that voice. I maintained a firm but shaky grasp on my desire to throttle the boy. I'm ashamed to admit, I've never been so relieved to see a patron go.

Bearer of bad news birthday

"Happy Birthday!"

"Uh, thanks. So, ah, isn't that your car... in the lot... with it's window broken out?"

I've never had much social finesse. And I don't know if there is a good time to mention to someone that their car has been vandalized. But the juxtaposition stinks.

Sigh. Crummy.

On a lighter note, hubby mentioned we've been together as long as I lived with my parents (weird, right)... and that they've been like dog years (had my teen rebellion/midlife crisis)... and that if they were in dog years I'd be dead (sweet).
Happy Birthday to me.

The Special Olympian and Keith Richards

This kid was larger than life. A natural salesman. "That's okay, John, I've got it. You can go." He dismissed the man with a wave of his hand. He leaned on the desk, exuding the confidence of a man you'd ask for his autograph, despite his army jacket and coke bottle glasses. His parents were storm chasers and he talked about the strange cloud formations and odd weather patterns we'd been having.

It may sound ridiculous but he had such charisma that even though he came in with a group of mentally handicapped adults, I wasn't sure if he was one of them- until he pulled out his photocopied state ID.

"I think I should tell you something... I'm in the Special Olympics tomorrow." His enthusiasm and pride were infectious. Amazing kid.

In other news: I would like to officially welcome Keith Richards to the library.

Be Patient, I'm Sure Something Will Come to Me

Dear Reader,
Thank you for your patience. It's been a wild ride and I'm only beginning to get my head back in the game. The man was laid off, only to find a new job three days later (amazing, I know). I've been busy acquiring my red cross packet as outlined in the Gurnsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. Truthfully, no, but I have acquired an alarming amount of toilet paper and laundry detergent. It's amazing what begins to matter when it's affordability becomes uncertain.