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.