Ignatius J Riley, Son of Sherlock Holmes Revealed!

Did you know that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, of Sherlock Holmes fame, had a middle name? Ignatius. (Wise move to choose Conan over Ignatius, by the way, big Conan fan growing up myself). But it got me thinking about another Ignatius. Ignatius J. Riley of Confederacy of Dunces. Could it be? A quick browse on Google didn't bring anything back. I think there is some parallel. I mean, how many grown men do you know that walk around in a hunting cap. Ignatius and Sherlock do. They both share the same arrogant intelligence but with Ignatius, its as if Sherlock ate Watson. He earned his PhD loves to quote philosopher, Boethius, but is a bumbler. Ignatius denounces the world's lack of "theology and geometry". While Sherlock perceives the world's geometry and uses it to his advantage. For all you students out there, I'm sure there's a paper in here somewhere. Anywho, something to ponder.

How to Improve Your Marriage Without Talking

So, I'm out in the stacks pulling holds when one book catches my eye. That's right, How to Improve Your Marriage Without Talking. I was a little perplexed. My hubby and I have been at this for 15+ years and I find talking crucial to communication.

Joke book that's blank? Not likely in a library. Did my dad write a book without telling anyone? Maybe it's a book about adding small gestures of affection- you know, roses, notes, vacuuming, whatever. Or maybe it's a brown paper bag manual about improving your sex life.

Hmmm.... My curiosity piqued, I found the book- How to Improve Your Marriage Without Talking About It. The last couple of words didn't fit on the page. Similar concept but not nearly as interesting.

On a separate note:

A girl was researching Christmas in other cultures at the library. Her mom says to her,"What country do you want to research?" The little girl responds, "How about Utah? Can I do Utah?" I'm not sure if the exchange had more to do with the state of our education or the state of Utah.

Employee Evaluations

I admit it. I cheated. My 2008 goal was retroactive. The powers that be wanted that little hole filled so I made up a goal (at their behest). As I'm typing my goal and evaluation, I get to the part that says rate your performance. Suddenly, I'm wondering if I'm on a Japanese game show. I know that they know that I just made up this lame "goal". They know that I know that they know and NOW let's just see how she rates herself. On a scale of 1 to 4, how would you rate yourself, 1 being the highest? Any nincompoop should be getting a 1, right? Talk about stacking the deck. I just couldn't do it. I gave a 2 on principle alone. I think that just makes me a stubborn nincompoop minus a raise, not a principled one.

One Good Book

Do you ever have one of those moments where disparate elements intersect for no apparent reason? My random moment seems to be Harper Lee. We watched In Cold Blood and discovered she was friends with Truman Capote. My boy read To Kill a Mockingbird in English. I picked up Who the Hell is Pansy O'Hara and there she was again.
Harper Lee's characters live in my memory as an old friend, blurred and indistinct but warm. It's the only book she ever wrote. I wish she had written more.

In Who the Hell is Pansy O'Hara, they quote Harper Lee as saying, "I hoped for a little (public encouragement), as I said, but I got rather a whole lot, and in some ways this was just about as frightening as the quick, merciful death I'd expected." I understand her block on a visceral level. I freeze when it's going well. The focus blurs and the well runs dry.

Is it true that everyone has at least one good book in them? What blocks some brilliant writers from continuing?

If you had one good book in you, what would it be? Talk amongst yourselves.

Once Upon a Time

Ah, bedtime stories at the library. The trouble is no one has been coming. A more established library has bedtime stories the same night. So, I usually wander the stacks and find three or four books a few minutes before showtime, just in case.
Only last night was a little different. I watched in stunned disbelief as at least six little ones, parents in tow, padded in in their pjs. I changed up the tone and meter, threw in a few silly voices and shortened some stories and when their attention was blown called it a day.

That's it?

What time did you start? That was the time it took me to drive over here. We thought this would be a fun library.

We usually go to the other story time and last week they had award-winning children's books, from our state, as a theme. She sings a welcome song and half-way through they get their wiggles out and then at the end... they get milk and cookies. The kids really look forward to that.

Part of me wanted to tell her to go home, tuck her daughter into bed, snuggle up next to her and pull out the child's favorite book but I refrained.

I can sing in the car or the shower... with the radio turned up...really loudly, but get me in front of a group of adults expecting Disney tunes and choreography and I'm no good. Now, I'm not saying it was incredible but milk and cookies? Who can compete with that? I actually thought they were great suggestions for our programming and passed along her name and number but give me the old school bedtime any day. I wouldn't have missed that with my kids for anything.

A Fierce and Desperate Thing

A couple of little guys in my class came down with something. Their symptoms include but are not limited to: finding me in the library just to say Hi, being the first one to class, wanting to sit on my lap during storytime, lifting chairs twice their size, general atypical rowdy behavior. That's right--they've got a Crush with a capital C.

A little boy's crush is a fierce and desperate thing. It's a beautiful and embarrassing experience to be the focus of such pure, blind adoration. I employ the classic female strategy: feign ignorance, continue to treat the little guys the same as before and wait for time or the end of programming to remedy the situation.

It occurred to me that the crush is not all that different from adult male courting behavior. I just get to see its genesis. I guess we're alright unless the boys start chest thumping, butting heads or getting tattoos, then drastic measures will need to be taken.

Parent Torture Conference

I went to conferences burning with shame and futility. Shame in that special way only a school official can make you feel. I had two choices: go to conferences and politely accept the D and F grade slips so graciously offered or stay home and wallow in my bad parenthood. So, I went--this year--stomach roiling. I met with each and every teacher (except PE) and was so overjoyed at the solitary B slip, I nearly cried. I cry a lot at school which I find mortifying. I feel as if I've slipped into Valerie Bertinelli's skin and am now a part of some horrible after school special. Pass the martini.
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