Flickr

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

"We've Used Half A Moon, Uselessly Happily" -KJS

Karl is dead and our lives will be better for it. Not because he was a terrible person, he was profoundly good. He was an incredible person who knew how to live his life like every day mattered and it did.

He was 41 when his heart inexplicably stopped. Julie, his wife, wondered aloud, "How can he be dead when he was so full of life?" There is no good answer, there never is, and all the platitudes in the world won't make it feel better.

A few days before his death Karl underlined, "Yogis know death is the zest in the sauce of life." Death is a hard lesson. It seems profane in the face of death to talk about living but the man was a master teacher to the end and the lesson that keeps vibrating through my soul is to live. Goodbye Karl we love you.

Band Books

"This book is inappropriate for my daughter. She's just a child! This is becoming a problem."

The offensive book was thrust under my nose with righteous indignation. On the cover was a cat with a magic wand. I think it was titled, "Miss Kitty Learns to Spell." Alright, I made up the title but it's not too far off. I was gearing myself up for something climactic like Sex by Madonna in all it's coffee table size grandeur.

"Ah, I see. Unfortunately, we don't have limitations on our library cards. But you, as her parent, can check her account online with the pin you set up. You, as her parent, can screen materials when they come into your home. You, as her parent, can have a frank and honest discussion about why you feel the material is inappropriate and if she refuses to see reason, ground her ass. Or you, as her parent, can take away her library card.

None of those options is agreeable? You'd like to speak with the manager? I'll see if Mr. B is in. You've already spoken with him about limiting everyone else's access to materials? He didn't agree? Strange."

Crashing Through by Robert Kurson

The writing wasn't great but the subject was inspiring. Mike May played soccer, tether ball, rode a bike, (indulge me) built a ham radio tower in his backyard, drove a car, downhill speed skier, worked for the FBI, father, entrepreneur. Oh, and blind from 3 to 43. I walked away with his 4 simple rules.

1. Have an adventure
2. Speak to your curiosity
3. Be willing to fall down or get lost
4. There's always a way

My daughter asked me what my scariest experience was and it got me thinking. Surprisingly, there aren't many. The one that came to mind I won't share with her.

I don't consider myself a particularly brave person. I don't have a black belt in martial arts or a freakish ability to heal but with a little distance, there's not a lot to fear. True fear? usually only when it involves someone I love. This whole concept was new to me. Careful, pragmatic that's me. I'm left to wonder when did the fear creep into my life disguised as care and why? go out and live a little, what's the worst that can happen? or better yet what's the best that can happen? In the inimitable words of Oingo Boingo, "there's nothing to fear but fear itself."

Speaking Whale

Mumbles called. She wanted to know if her hold for Wicked was on the shelf.
"No hold for Wicked, but I do have The Man Who Loved China."
"That's it. I'll be in to pick it up later."

Pause here. At this point, I'm a bit puzzled. There are no similarities between the two books. None. Okay, I exaggerate- both authors are male.
But The Man Who Loved China was indeed what she called about.

My initial thought was perhaps she needs to be evaluated for Alzheimers. Then a flash of insight. I speak this language- fluently. I have a touch of the absent minded professor about me. Maybe that's too grand. Okay, I'm Dory from Finding Nemo.

I embrace speaking whale and the golden rule because someday? that will be me, calling about The Man Who Found Nemo and I'd appreciate a little respect.

Phone Tag

"Um, its 11:15 and um, I know the library is open. So, I don't know why no one is answering the phone. Um, so, my name is Mnnayan (unintelligible muttering) Reynolds and um, I need you to renew my book The Witches Something, Something, Something. and um, if someone could take care of this and let me know that it's been taken care of um, my number is 555-555-5555."

Yep, oh goody. Mumbling, vague, dissatisfied patron. Library card number? I don't think so. Hmm, nice. Let's see here, Witches Something, Something, Something. Zipp-o. A name search? Reynolds not unique by any stretch. My last, best bet panned out. Phone number. Now for that item... nope not Witches Something, Something at all. Wicked.

I returned her call fifteen minutes later. "You've reached the offices of Unintelligible Reynolds. I'm not able to take your call right now but..." There is a lovely symmetry to it. I left a message of my own.

"Um, so my name is Jenny from the library? and um, I just got your message fifteen minutes ago? I thought someone would be there to take my call but um, anyway...I guess I'll just leave a message and hope someone gets it? and um, tell you Wicked is now renewed."

Miss Nelson is Missing

A co-worker went missing. She was gone for about a month. A card was sent around. I hate those stupid cards. We don't know where she is or what is going on in her life but someone has to trot out THE card.
The type of card you buy in bulk with bad floral watercolor and cheesy, cliche sentiments. This one said "Thinking of you". The card was placed in my box and had already made the rounds. Most people wrote, "miss you" and "come back soon". For all I know, she won the lotto and is cruising in the Mediterranean. I had two choices, don't sign the card and be the lone jerk who didn't even have the decency to sign a card or be a lemming and sign the card with suitably vague tag line.
I signed the card but I sure wish I'd known she had cancer and a hysterectomy.

Change of Address Gripe

A short, stocky woman approached the desk.

"I'd like to get a library card."

She filled out the application while I began input from her drivers license.

"Is this your current address?"
"No, it's on the back."
"Sorry, we can't take handwritten change of address. Do you have anything else with your address on it: checkbook, mail, insurance card, hunting license?"
"No, the DMV said just to write my address on the back."
"Yes, I know, they do that now but we need some other verification."
"This is worse than going to prison."

I laughed a little, offhandedly.

"No, I'm serious."

Prison, not jail, prison. I laughed a little, weakly, in an uncertain, wheezy sort of way. Because really, what else am I supposed to say- that would explain the bad haircut? I'm sure it is harder to get a library card than to get processed for prison. But then, people aren't typically trying to get into prison.

Reads

Here are just a few of the books I've been reading. Sometimes just listing them isn't enough. It feels misleading when I add a book to my list of reads and discover I hate it but such is the reading life. You never really know what you're going to get.

The Worst Hard Time by Timothy Egan: a compelling book that I highly recommend- unless you're teetering on the edge of unemployment during this recession. I just couldn't finish. Vivid descriptions of just what the Dust Bowl entailed and a group of scrappy characters that lived through it.

My secret shame: Twilight & New Moon. I had sworn a solemn vow not to read any of these books. With my head hung low, I admit, I succumbed to peer pressure. Curse you Book Club. Not as bad as I anticipated but certainly not as good as all the hoopla. Pretty sure the book highlighted all the reasons I hated High School (am I the only one that sees the weird new girl wouldn't be hanging with the popular set). Let me rephrase that into a sound bite, all the high school romance and pettiness I dreaded but the werewolf/vampire storyline held my attention.

The Brain that Changes Itself by Norman Doidge: truly fascinating insights into the workings of the brain and its adaptivity. This is a front row seat to scientific discovery. I appreciated the personal stories interspersed with all the technical jargon. I must admit to squeemishness about the descriptions of animal experimentation but the sections are well delineated and you could skip it.

Trivia

It has been painfully, agonizingly slow at work. I'm not good at standby mode. I think mine is broken. So, I've been amusing myself creating slides for the large TV by the help desk. I decided to pop in a few bits of trivia for fun and picked up a few books for reference.

I found myself laughing until tears came to my eyes. Hysterical snorts, the kind you got at 3am watching Strange Brew as a teen. I'm having difficulty gauging the actual funny factor due to the state of my deprivation at the desk.

"The Earl of Oxford exiled himself for 7 years, after he farted in Queen Elizabeth I's presence."

"Would you rather sound like Darth Vader when you breathe or sound like Yoda when you talk?"

I love my job- even when it is slow.

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.

Men in Kilts

The audio book version seemed like a good idea while I paint the kitchen. Bad, bad idea when the book is Outlander. It began innocently enough. The voice over my speakers sounded like Julie Andrews. Mary Poppins was reading me a story.

Not too mushy with a strong, intelligent, funny female protagonist. I've never been a big fan of the romantic novel. Something about willingly suspending my disbelief but maybe this won't be so bad.

Not so bad until Mary Poppins began narrating the first sex scene and the boy chose that inauspicious moment to come downstairs. Paint or no, I sprinted to the stereo but I got there a little too late. Thanks, bookclub.

Tale o' the Twister

I worked this weekend. 20 minutes after opening, the power goes out. A definite inconvenience in a modern library. I was still able to locate the Tempest, the Hobbit, and the Giver. I just couldn't check them out.

The policy is to escort patrons out if we have a prolonged power outage. Sorry, scouts. No pack meeting today. Oh, oops, can't take off the massive room deposit. Out with you munchkins and take your neckerchiefs with you. All other patrons out-check.

Alarms blaring, weather radio chattering unintelligibly. What's that? A tor-na-do warning? Nice. We just sent the patrons out of the library. Step 2 call the manager. No cell phone, no pager, no go. Step 3 call the electrical company. Wrong number, get number, very helpful prerecorded message about a power outage in our area. Moving right along, we were herded into the public restrooms. Did I mention I live FIVE minutes away? I can sit in a dark public restroom with my coworkers or go home and relax in my very comfortable basement. Against "the list's" sage advice, we didn't stay in the bathroom. Next, we tackled the blaring alarms- with no light. The brilliant person in charge took care of the alarms by the light of our emergency cell phone. No flashlights.

Where are my ruby slippers when I need them? There's no place like home. There's no place like home. Two and a half hours after my shift began, I got my wish.

Renovations

Under construction- my kitchen, that is. When I'm not cleaning, tiling, grouting, cleaning, painting, etc. I'm looking at kitchen porn (643ish).

Socially Awkward Lessons From An Introvert

The library offers me a new challenge everyday. Part of what I love is the interaction with our patrons. Sometimes a patron will have a difficulty and it's my job to make them feel comfortable. Sometimes I fail miserably in my eagerness but here are a few things I've learned.

Yesterday a regular patron stopped in the library but he wasn't wearing his glasses and I realized he has a lazy eye. I had heard you look at the "good" eye. Well, I tried that but I'm still not sure it was the right one. Which means I'm pretty sure it was the wrong one. Next time, I'll look at the bridge of the nose.

We have patrons who are hard of hearing. Look at them squarely, speak clearly, gestures are helpful.

I've encountered a gentleman with severe stuttering. At the time, I thought I'd help him out by anticipating the end of his question. Now I know, NOT helpful. I'm ashamed I didn't offer him the common courtesy of hearing him out. Next time, I'll do better.

Common hindrances to listening.

1. Having preconceived notions regarding the speaker or the message that taint one’s ability to truly hear what is being said;
2. Anticipating what is being said and thus never actually listening;
3. Contemplating their response while the speaker is talking;
4. Having personal issues or outside distractions compete with the message;
5. Reacting emotionally and thus missing the entire message.

Neukrug (1999)

Small steps in the right direction. In forty years, I'll be omnipotent.

Heat Wave

The "green" heating and a/c at the library is anything but reliable. Typically, I dress like an onion, in layers. I suppose there is something to the stereotype of a librarian wearing a sweater and woolen stockings. Just doing my part to perpetuate that stereotype.

But yesterday, we simmered. At least 80 degrees with no respite in sight. I suppose I could have shucked the sweater and rolled my slacks up to my thighs but as a rule management frowns on "casual Tuesdays".

*Things that make you go hmmm- Our resident handyman quit and today was his last day.