Ramblings

Mon, 12 May 2008 01:18:25 GMT

Long day, and so we decided to have ice cream for supper. With homemade hot fudge sauce, which counts as a food group.

"I'm so glad you're older," my mother said, "so we don't have to have these discussions about appropriate meals."

"Yup," I said. "Once you've learned the basics, you're free to experiment."

"Know what else?" she asked.

"What?"

"I'm going to eat my bowl of ice cream in the living room."

"Born to be wiii-iild!" I sang. What rebels we are. :P

Sun, 04 May 2008 23:43:09 GMT

A cold, dreary, not-quite-raining-but-likely-to day, so I did what anybody else in possession of a car and some loose change would do: I hied myself to the river. (That sounds a lot more Ophelia-like than I actually intended. Fear not.) I bought the Sunday paper, with intentions of reading it on the dock, but decided that it would probably rain at the worst possible moment and left it in my car instead. Thence to do some exploring along a sidestreet, and specifically to visit a new French french fry shop. (The fries are supposed to be Parisian, but I have my doubts.) In a reckless spirit, I ordered fries with curry sauce and a chocolate milkshake to go, and took them both down to the dock. Nothing like eating burning-hot french fries (chips) on a grey, dreary day by the water--it was like being in Scotland again. :P The french fries were *excellent*, the curry sauce...interesting (more like mustard dip with flecks of curry), and the milkshake *wonderful*. (It's been ages since I've had a milkshake.)

I watched the bridge go up and down (I don't know why I enjoy that so much, but I really do), and then realized that my perfect day was missing something. What else does a librarian do on her day off?? I know! She goes to the library! (Duh.)

And so I went to the library and had a slight heart attack when I discovered that my library card has the wrong address on it and an expiration date of 2003. It hasn't really expired, of course. The address is right in the computer. I just have never taken the trouble to update the physical card itself. Why, when I work at a library?

This was no comfort as I stood in the checkout line. I could visualize the whole, mortifying scene.

"Excuse me, ma'am," the nice circ person would say. "But did you realize that your card has expired?"

"Oh! Er, ha ha!" I would say nervously. "Really?"

"I can renew your privilege...hey, wait a minute. Bill, come over here and look at this!" Much muttering between staff. "Lady, did you know that your address doesn't match? What kind of game are you playing?"

"No, it's ok!" I'd say desperately. "Look, I'm a librarian! I have a membership card from ALA! Oh wait, that's expired too...no, I can explain!" And then they'd either toss me through the automatic doors, or I'd have to phone a friend for bail. I'd never be able to go back to that library again, I'd be so mortified.

So it was a good thing that they didn't look too closely at my card (which I snatched back just as soon as it was read by the laser, just in case). It was a lot of anxiety just for a Terry Pratchett novel (or two, plus the sequel to "Here, there be dragons"), but it was worth it. :) And then I went home to be jumped on by my over-eager dog ("You've been gone for *hours*! Where *were* you?")

Sat, 03 May 2008 20:34:46 GMT

If you know anything, everything, or nothing about web 2.0, you should see this. (It almost made me cry, but you know, librarians are weird like that.)

Sat, 03 May 2008 01:53:03 GMT

Facebook regrets my lack of JavaScript and the disabling of cookies, and scoffs at the notion of security certificates. Entry...denied. I didn't realize how completely addicted I am until I couldn't access it. ::is jittery and enters her password fruitlessly a bajillion times::

In other news, I:

* unintentionally re-enacted, with my coworkers, the "Can you hear me now?" commercial, only with e-mail instead of cell phone calls. "Did you get the message now? No? Damn. Ok, check it now. No? Damn. Ok, can you read it now. DAMN!"

* finished cataloging all 36 titles, 70-odd pieces, and 75 pounds of Modern Courses materials. Whew!

* looked at all the DVDs to be cataloged and went, "Whoa!" And wept.

* got the definition of "coruscating" from a colleague, and raised her a "perfidious"

* discovered that Elizabeth Peters is writing a new Vicky Bliss novel, 14 years after the last one, and got really really excited, to the confusion of the person sharing the staff room with me

* tried a bajillion-and-one times to access Facebook, and got the flaming sword. Woes. Anyone else experiencing difficulties? Seriously, how am I supposed to kill time at this hour of the night? ::sighs::

Fri, 25 Apr 2008 00:55:38 GMT

Spent the day putting down mulch around the stones of our flagstone path. It was rather tedious, but oddly satisfying to someone who regularly spends 60 hours a week either at work or commuting to work. Plus, it was the first warm sunny day in a looooong time.

My mother and I differed cordially on the correct way of laying down mulch. She favors the dump-and-sweep method: dump a bucket of mulch, sweep it across the stones. I, obsessive person that I am--are you ready for this?--lay down mulch one handful at a time. You know, because the stones aren't flush with each other, and I find that doing it by handfuls gives me more control with less mess (she said defensively). Hey--it worked.

Anyway, made a nice change from staring at lines of XML. (We fixed the website, btb, ahead of schedule--thank goodness.) I was working on another project on Wednesday involving duplicating item records so I could modify them with a minimum of time and effort. I kept hitting the "Duplicate" button, but in my head it translated itself into "Stupefy! Stupefy!" which was sort of how I felt after doing it for three hours. :P

Tue, 22 Apr 2008 01:28:45 GMT

This is me. This is me skipping merrily along, "Tra-la-la, tra-la-la!," strewing roses from my hat amongst gamboling lambs, and the sun is shining, and the sky is blue.

And this is me suddenly meeting the website. WHAP! (It's better with hand gestures.)

Six hours later, and I know how Edison felt. You know, Edison of lightbulb fame? Who, when asked "How's it going?" by an innocent bystander, replied, "Well, I now know about 1000 ways not to build a lightbulb"? I know 24 ways the CSS and templates have trounced me. Soundly. And I also know why so many websites are crap: it's because decent, kind, hardworking individuals have come up against these same obstacles and decided to become Luddites. I will not become a Luddite. But I am 2 hours, 36 lines of code, and 4 templates away from hurling a rock at the computer. In a kind, decent, loving sort of way, of course.

Sat, 05 Apr 2008 21:31:33 GMT

Some weeks ago, I was manning the reference desk and was summoned to the public computers by someone in deep distress. "The library website's changed!" he accused. "Yes," I said, and prepared to enumerate the wonderfulness it had become. "How," he interrupted me, "how am I supposed to get to Google when the link has been taken off the webpage?"

And then I cried.

Well, not literally, I can't deny that a little part of me died.

Now I find myself in charge of the website. (How did that happen? you ask. Funny story. The director came along to my desk--and this is partly why I twitch every time she comes near my desk--and said "Tag! You're it. Website--go.") Ok, maybe this has something to do with my dogged determination to have RSS feeds on our site. Whatever. Here's the crux: I want RSS feeds and I want del.icio.us subject guides and I want fading/marquee-like headlines and I want...you get the picture.

I don't want to have a website that caters to the lowest common denominator (no offense, unnamed patron, but really! Remind me to tell you about address bars sometime.) but I don't want to have something that only librarians can use, either. (I want podcasts, too, but that requires a microphone and someone to *do* the podcasts, so it'll be a few years, I think.) I mean, I don't want to spend time and energy (I have a sneaking suspicion that I'll be the one figuring out how to get RSS feeds on the website) on something no one really looks at anyway. Be honest: how often do you visit your local library's website? But on the other hand: (she says with infinite longing) RSS feeds! Rolling headlines! Wouldn't that be the coolest thing ever?? (It totally would be.)

As an aside, when the director told me she wanted me to revisit the website's content, all I could think about was writing the help page for the RMW Scrapbook digital library...at 2 am...when the website itself was down...the night before it was due to be released. This may--or-may not--explain my marked lack of enthusiasm for this new project.

Sat, 05 Apr 2008 00:48:46 GMT

Ah, the tinkling sound of ladybugs hurling themselves against the light fixture. I can appreciate their sense of desperation, their frustration as again and again they crash against cruel reality, and their perseverance--or is their stubborn refusal to accept the evidence before them, that wishing does not make the light fixture other than what it is, an artificial light source, merely?

I too have a sense of desperation, which renders me sympathetic to their plight. I too have crashed again and again against evidence I do not wish to accept. Despite most assiduous care and taking sick day after sick day, I become convinced in spite of myself...unlike the ladybugs. This most wretched cold will, most probably, never go away. The spring will never come, the daffodils will never flourish, and if the four horsemen were to come riding up, I should greet them by saying, "Well, finally! What took you so long?"

Some of the ladybugs have accepted their fate. They circle wearily across the floor, fold their little legs up, and stick their spoon in the wall. I attempt something similar: circling wearily from couch to bed and back; folding my arms across my chest as Egyptian mummies do; and earnestly praying for death. Or, you know, I'm not picky--how about clearing my head at least? I'd be happy with that. (On a side note, one of my colleagues recently broke his wrist, and that thought was, for a while, the only thing keeping me going. "Well, I might feel like warmed-over Death...but at least I don't have a broken wrist!" A few hours later, I suddenly realized that he was probably doped to the gills with painkillers, and all sympathy vanished. I attribute my sudden decline to that lowering thought.)

The tinkling has stopped. The ladybugs have either died or stopped trying. No, one of them is circling wearily across the floor. I'm going back to the living room to fetch my tissue box (I named it Bob; since we are developing a close acquaintance, I thought it should have a name) and then I'm going to bed.

Books, books, books

Sat, 22 Mar 2008 02:31:37 GMT

I got an email today from Amazon: "Based upon your previous ratings, we think you'd enjoy Skippyjon Jones."

I am mortified. How does reading and enjoying teen literature make me a target for some book about a demented cat with a name reminiscent of pirates and peanut butter?

I console myself with the knowledge that there are a number of Very Good Things on the radar, including but not limited to: Queste by Angie Sage (I adore Septimus Heap; bk 4); Montmorency's Revenge by Eleanor Updale (hello, Jekyll and Hyde riff; bk 4); The Case of the Bizarre Bouquets by Nancy Springer (fluffy riff on Sherlock Holmes; bk 3); and someday soon the children's librarian will tire of my ceaseless pleas and order the next few of the Sisters Grimm series (fairy-tale spins with excellent dialogue).

Also also: I just finished reading Deanna Raybourn's Silent in the grave and its sequel, Silent in the sanctuary--I don't usually get into mysteries set in Victorian England, but this was excellent. Currently reading Bart Ehrman's God's Problem, which is more depressing than I thought it would be, ironically, and I have Mad Kestrel waiting in the wings to cheer me up after (supposedly about pirates, none of whom have anything to do with cats or peanut butter).

Fri, 07 Mar 2008 01:42:20 GMT

The note on my desk read, "Divorced, drunk, and covered in cat hair--why???"

It was, ahem, my shorthand for "This is a new book which ought not to have been lent to other libraries. Why, therefore, is it in a neighboring village?"

But the explanation takes all the fun out of it. :)

Sat, 23 Feb 2008 03:04:48 GMT

O! for the days of my youth, when I could recite the first few lines of Beowulf and Paradise Lost, or write a 5-page paper on two lines of a poem, or move effortlessly between the languages of Shakespeare and Chaucer!

It took me most of the day to figure out how to open this new bottle of shampoo, and that's how I know that I'm losing it. The day is not far off when opening child-proof aspirin bottles will be beyond my ability.

When I woke up this morning, I had no idea that I would wax depressed over shampoo bottles (blasted thing should have come with instructions). The first thing I saw, while gazing out my window, was a coyote loping through the yard, soon followed by a second. It's the first time I've seen coyotes, and it was pretty neat: it had been snowing for a while, and my window was high enough that I could watch their progress away among the trees for a while. I don't mind coyotes, as long as they don't mind Maggie--bears, I'm more dubious of.

Maggie loved the snow, by the way. She likes to run in it and eat it and toss it up into the air with her nose and roll around and make snow-devils. Silly dog.

Lots of drama at work, and so I'm thinking about heading out (if the roads aren't too bad) to my favorite coffeeshop, strolling downtown, maybe going to the Chowder Festival and seeing No Country for Old Men later. I am, ever-so-slightly, desperately tired of library politics and protocols and problems, and I am resolved to forget about them for at least one whole day.

Sun, 17 Feb 2008 02:50:28 GMT

The ladybugs are all swarming desperately at the windows, and I'm getting restless too. I can't wait for it to get warmer so I can go on long walks in the woods, or starlight walks. I like walking at night, even though this is a very stupid thing to do. You might run into somebody you don't want to, or maybe trip over a bear. There's something you're supposed to do with bears: is it bark like a dog or wave your arms? Or does that just infuriate them? Maybe the best thing to do is just make a quick exit, pursued by bear. (Sorry, the reference just had to be made.)

Speaking of local wildlife, it was fairly quiet at the library today. I helped a former tax accountant find the right tax forms (that's what you call ironic), cataloged 15 travel books, questioned the usefulness of "miscellaneous" as a musical category (aka the "I don't know what this is, but it sure ain't music" category), erased confidential information from a floppy, kicked three people off the computers, and ate six chocolate kisses. Long day.

In other news, I just finished Seduction of the Crimson Rose (which is, I hasten to say, a lot more innocent than it sounds) and since reading it over and over again is not an option, I'm looking for book suggestions. Has anyone read anything Secret History of the Pink Carnation-ish (which is to say, light and fluffy, happy endings only, please, preferably Regency but not required, strong female characters a must) that they would recommend? Many thanks in advance.

Sat, 02 Feb 2008 01:18:17 GMT

I suddenly realized why this winter feels colder than the last: I'm watching all these darned ladybugs move slower and slower and turn yellow and finally go belly-up, and I wonder why I pull an afghan around my shoulders and shiver in sympathy. It's cold in here!!

I turned the shower on the other morning and noticed one small ladybug cowering in the ceiling corner. When it felt that rush of steam hitting the ceiling, it uncurled its legs and raised its head hopefully. Spring! Spring at last! It started zipping across that ceiling, only to falter when it left the immediate heat from the shower, turned around--but by that time I had turned the shower off, and it curled back down into its shell. So...cold. Too...far. And I felt like such a schmuck for raising its hopes, only to dash them. But hey--I'm cold too.

Cold and rainy today, so I baked almond poppyseed bread and watched the entire first season of The Office (the BBC version), which was better than I expected, but only because of Martin Freeman. I finally got my hands on a copy of Book of a Thousand Days, which didn't live up to six months of high expectations but was pretty good nevertheless, and now I am on to Book of Air and Shadows. Going back downstairs now to warm my hands over the woodstove and stick my cold toes under the dog (she doesn't mind cold toes).

Mon, 28 Jan 2008 04:26:27 GMT

Apparently I can only read lj at obscenely late hours, when I'm half asleep and no one else is up. Must remedy that.

On an unrelated note, have I mentioned that I'm out in the boonies? I'm out in the boonies! This means, among other things, that I don't watch horror films, I (ugh, just put my finger on a ladybug while typing--honest to goodness, the wretched things are everywhere) have a superstitious fear of being alone at night with the lights on (you can't see them, but they can see you), and I have the deuce of a time getting home when it snows.

The other day, my dad casually mentioned that he saw a bear.

"You saw a bear on your way to work? Where?" I asked, wide-eyed.

"Oh, just down the road," he said from behind his newspaper.

"How big was it?" I asked.

"About bear-sized," he said.

"Oh," I said, and mentally canceled any prior plans I had of venturing out on a walk in spring with a peanut-butter-and-honey sandwich.

Scene two: did you know that a fisher got to a turkey farm nearby and, in the space of an hour, killed 68 turkeys? A fisher, according to my father, is sort of like a badger, and really bad-tempered. It won't go after a person (he said doubtfully), but it would take down a dog, no problem. (Super.)

Scene three: here's Laura, preparing to take the dog outside at night so Maggie can do what dogs do. I turned on the outside light, and then stuck my head outside to see if it was actually on: it was, but I would have gotten more light by carrying a candle out with me. I slip a leash on Maggie, step into some shoes, and we both go out into a dim semi-circle of light. The instant the door closes, Maggie freezes and stares intently into the forest. I freeze and stare intently too, but I can't see a thing--no glowing green eyes, no rustling in the undergrowth, nothing--but suddenly Maggie WOOFS!! I shriek (it must be a bear or a fisher or a rabid deer or maybe that guy from Fargo), and we both dash for the door and slam it shut behind us. Maggie sits as close to me as she can, practically on my foot, and we both shiver for a while. "Well," I said to her, after we've calmed down somewhat, "what now? You can't piddle into a can--we've got to go back out there!" And so, after peering cautiously outside (there's still nothing out there) we go back out, and Maggie happily trots around as though she never scared the bejeezus out of us and after some agonizing indecision (on her part) and anxious tugging on the leash ("Here? Here's a good spot. Do it here. Hurry up!") we finally accomplish what we set out to do, and I can go back inside and try to get my heart rate back down. Silly dog.

Sun, 20 Jan 2008 02:11:52 GMT

I did not just play a silly online game involving placing books in correct Library of Congress call number order.

Oh, wait. ::facepalm::

ETA: Due to popular demand, here is the link to shelving according to LOC. Enjoy! (It took me a while to figure this out, but you have to click on the stack of books to the left and then wave your mouse at the bookshelves and click to drop the book in its rightful place. Just fyi.)

Thu, 17 Jan 2008 04:49:23 GMT

Life continues with dramatic flourishes at the library. I thought that after college, I'd never have to take another pop quiz or test in my life. Totally wrong about that: there are always tests. They just happen to be self-grading, and there are no do-overs. I give myself a C average; I'd study for the next test, maybe pull my grade up, except the subject areas are never announced ahead of time and they are always broad-ranging.

I led a tri-library conference today, but in my head it was the tri-wizard tournament. First event, battling dragons, followed by deciphering html code riddles ("Um, this means 'bold', and this is the beginning of the table. Wow! I guess the programmer spasmed or something, because this is just gibberish. I mean, '{$A%GH/b', that's a swear word, right?"). Thence to untangling my pages from the murky depths of workflow, traversing the labyrinth of kit processing ("Are we agreed that books with read-along cassettes belong in kit-bags, whereas books accompanied by music CDs will go into the regular collection, photo DVDs accompanying books will be tossed out and books accompanying DVDs and pamphlets will be sold?"), and finally sparring with Death Eaters on skateboards.

It can only end in tears, and the knowledge that we can't go back to the way things used to be. But there's victory at the end, I hope, and in the meantime the lights go on and the credits roll. It'll be another day tomorrow.

Sun, 13 Jan 2008 05:55:23 GMT

I decided to make hot chocolate, and by "make hot chocolate" I of course mean "tear the top off a packet, pour it into a mug of cold water and microwave it." It's a new type of hot chocolate, with marshmallows. I didn't bother to read the instructions on the box because--sheesh!--if you can't tear the top off a packet, well, you probably can't handle the microwave, either.

"How is it?" asked my mother.

"Very chocolate-y," I replied, "but I'm very disappointed. There is not one marshmallow!"

"You should call the company and complain," said she. A few moments later, she decides to pour one of the hot chocolate packets into her coffee.

"What do you think?" I asked.

"It's a little...thin," she replied, "but at least I have marshmallows."

There's a brief pause while we consider this. "The packets were stuck together," I said.

"Almost as if they were meant to go together," my mother said, and we both looked into our respective mugs.

"Maybe, um," I said. "Maybe I should have, you know, read the directions first."

"I can't believe," my mother said darkly, "that I just poured marshmallows into my coffee."

"Who knew?" I encompassed the vagaries of hot chocolate corporations and misleading advertising with one sheepish, sloshing sweep of my mug, carefully omitting any mention of my ability--now in question--to use a microwave. Oh, well.

Mon, 31 Dec 2007 01:21:51 GMT

I'm not dead yet!! (Just thought I'd put that out there--some people have been enquiring.)

It's been about a month--one long month without internet--but today, at last, we're wired. I've been busy deleting spam, catching up with Facebook changes, and clicking the "back 20 entries" tab on LJ until it balks and refuses to go any further. I'm almost caught up.

The 28th was my 6-month anniversary at the new job, but I'm still in the awkward "know enough to have some idea of what to do, but still on one year's probation and I don't *think* they'd fire me" stage.

We moved--again--to what my sister charmingly calls Bumblef***, CT. Lot of cows, lot of deer, not much else. Although the general store down the road bakes a pretty mean almond danish. There are more ladybugs here than I've ever seen before.

I've been reading--some (and strongly recommend Wicked Lovely--and not just because it's the first teen book I've read where the hero says, "I love you; I want to have sex with you; I got tested for STDS and here are the results") and watching films--some (Charlie Wilson's War was good, but not really worth seeing in a theatre) and listening to new music (the new CDs of Stephen Kellogg, Maroon5, Matchbox 20, the soundtrack to Into the Wild, and a 1-CD performance by Billy Collins are particularly good). But mostly I've been recovering from all the upheaval.

I now know four different ways to get from work to the new house, and all of them take 45 minutes, one way. I weathered one major snowstorm (and there's another forecast for tomorrow morning) and the staff Christmas party (where, regrettably, there are pictures of me in a Dr. Seuss hat, distributing secret Santa gifts...long story). I inherited another page, progressed to ordering Christian fiction (if you thought me ordering new music was a laugh, you should see me trying to order Christian fiction. My current selection method relies heavily upon the use of darts and dice...ironically. And what is up with the popularity of Amish fiction? Seriously?) and wrote my first Nasty Note (in red pen, no less) to those pages unable to comprehend the necessity of shelving audio CDs with other audio CDs and not, for instance, with the audiocassettes. I got asked to dinner, randomly, by an absolute stranger as I was leaving a movie theatre, an invitation I declined because he was in his 40s, at least. And I got to see the ambulance show up for one of my coworkers--who is fine, by the way--but it was definitely more excitement than we needed. It was an eventful month.

And finally, here's wishing you all a very happy and prosperous New Year. :)

Thu, 06 Dec 2007 01:44:21 GMT

The craziness continues. I took the day off yesterday to help coordinate the movers, who were moving all the Big Stuff (furniture, crockery, and things we were too exhausted to pack). I spent a lot of time saying things like, "Second bedroom. First bedroom. Closet. Stack it in front of the desk, please. That'll go in the nook. Hallway, beneath the window, thanks. Yeah, you can use the bathroom." It took an entire day to get everything off the trucks--I thought it would only take a couple of hours, tops. :\

I got to work today and discovered a plethora of papers on my desk. One of my pages will be late. The vendor I'm meeting with (who later brought coffeecake as a bribe) is running half an hour late. The director signed me up for a meeting and didn't tell me until an hour beforehand. A staff meeting in the afternoon. The rest of the day was spent trying to play catch-up for what I missed yesterday.

I have off tomorrow, in which time we'll try to pack up everything at Groton Long Point and haul it over to East Haddam. And then: cleaning (the movers tracked mud all over), and unpacking. We still don't have a certificate of occupancy (one of the stairs is 1/8th of an inch too low, rendering the entire house inhabitable. I kid you not. Although there's also bacteria in the water. Whatever.) but we're hoping we can squeak by (as long as we stock up on bottled water). Our lease at GLP ends at noon on Saturday, so we don't really have a choice.

It'll be us and the cows for a while: no internet, no landline, for who knows how long, so I'll only be reachable by cell. And we all know that my cell phone lives at the bottom of my purse, usually in the "off" state, so...maybe you should send a message via owl. :)

I'll be *so* happy when all this moving nonsense is finished...

Sun, 02 Dec 2007 01:11:43 GMT

We bought Maggie a dog bed a few months back. Billed as "indestructible," the bed had the stuffing taken out of it--literally--in under two hours.

Dog's first disobedience made me think of the fruit of that forbidden tree--forbidden fruit tastes sweetest. Which is why I spent four hours sitting on a new dog bed--literally--establishing my right to it. My dog bed. Mine. No dogs allowed. Especially not dogs named Maggie. Uh-uh.

My plan is: if Maggie thinks she's not allowed on the dog bed, she will want to be on the dog bed. (This is the only dog I've ever had to double-bluff.) And so she will, given the opportunity, sneak onto it when I'm not looking and Be a Good Dog. (This happened with the couch. She was not allowed on the couch. But then she snuck up onto it, and she was so quiet and looked so cute, and so she stayed.) Thus far, she has climbed quietly onto the dog bed and even fallen asleep on it! But then she has also sporadically tried to dig it up and pull the fleece off it. We have a ways to go.

I just hope she adjusts soon, because I'm starting to feel kind of silly, sitting on a dog bed. And it's starting to throw my back out.

Sat, 01 Dec 2007 00:57:00 GMT

I left work after about three hours, since I was sort of feverish and blech, and instead spent the rest of the day with the heat turned up, sitting on the couch and watching Timeline.

Maggie, released from her kennel, climbed onto my lap and acted as comforter, and soon fell asleep. We were both awakened from semi-doze by the sound of glass crashing somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen. Maggie's head jerked up, and she barked--"It's a burglar!"--and leapt off my lap. And then she went, "Ah! It's a burglar!", turned tail and leapt back onto the couch and cowered. And then her natural curiosity got the better of her and she went into the kitchen to sniff it out. Three emotions in the space of about three seconds. :P

It was not a burglar (as she thought), or the mouse (as I thought), but merely the collapse of the rolling pins against two glass jam jars.

In other news, someone needs to invent magic "all-better" pills. Chocolate helps, but doesn't quite do the trick. Magic chocolate "all-better" pills would be even nicer.

Sun, 25 Nov 2007 01:35:55 GMT

Did anyone catch this interview on TV? It went like this:

Coffee-starved news anchor: "Philip Pullman's book, The Golden Compass is being pulled from certain libraries after some claims that it promotes atheism. Your response, Token Catholic Commentator?"

Token Catholic Commentator: "This video clip from the upcoming film based on the book clearly portrays the Catholic church as an obsessed, controlling entity that restricts free thought. This is so clearly untrue that we want this book pulled from library shelves immediately."

Token Atheist Commentator: "But sir, doesn't that action validate the stereotype?"

TCC: "--moving on. If there was a book stating that homosexuality is bad, wouldn't people be rightfully outraged and upset?"

TAC: "Um, sir, I think that book is called the Bible."

TCC: "----"

Banning books = bad. Every librarian knows this; every librarian has this coded into the fiber of their soul: Thou Shalt Not Restrict Information.

Unless, of course, that information is personal--we don't release that. Or potentially damaging--we're a little hesitant about that, too. You see the gray area?

I got a book sent to me the other day--potential best-seller authors not only spam publishers but also local (and not so local) libraries--purporting to be about "The Deviation and Restoration of the Human Race." Danger sign #1: the word "deviation," which is a charged term. Danger sign #2: 700 pages with multiple Biblical references. Scholars don't usually write 700 pages of anything--only religious nuts do. I check this out further, as I would with any unsolicited book mailing. Who is this guy? He got his degree in religion (ok) and started a mountaintop retreat with 40 followers (uh-oh) and now feels justified changing the y in his name to a v, since the tail of the y represents Satan (I kid you not, this was in the author blurb). Danger sign #4. I read a few chapters, enough to convince me that this was the worst trash ever printed--and I binned it. Didn't even put it out on the sale rack.

I feel slightly bad about this. I'm sure there are other people who ascribe to the author's beliefs (40 of them are on a mountaintop somewhere). Just because I can't handle anti-gay (yea verily, homosexuality is evil), misogynistic (pain during childbirth is evidence of woman's sin), backward, ultra-conservative Christian tracts--does that mean I should keep it from others? Well, ::squirms uncomfortably:: Librarians sometimes say, "It's not censorship, it's selection." The one is often just a prettier word for the other. But on the other hand: I don't want that book in my library's collection--but if someone wanted it through interlibrary loan, I'd get it for them. Freedom of information.

It made me feel better that no library in CT owns this book (I checked). But I can't help but to draw parallels between the two situations. (Playing devil's advocate keeps me awake at night.) If I had to make a choice about "Deviation" again...yup, it'd go into the bin. But I wonder if, at microscopic level, that puts me ever-so-slightly across the censorship line.

Tue, 20 Nov 2007 23:51:52 GMT

Today's excitement consisted of sirens, flashing lights, and a calm voice urging you to remain calm and exit the building--and the buildings person, who burst onto the scene, pointed his finger, and said, "You! You're the evacuation coordinator--do you have the procedures?"

Seriously, this whole everything-going-kablooey-when-Laura's-on-duty thing has to stop.

Also, if you ever thought about smoking in the restroom, please don't. It makes the on-duty librarian cranky. Especially when she has to stand in the rain clutching what turns out to be the wrong set of procedures. ::facepalm::

Fri, 16 Nov 2007 03:22:01 GMT

Dear New York Times: It's not live blogging if the dialogue you're blogging about happened half an hour ago. Just sayin'.

In case you're wondering, this blog isn't live either. I'm writing about something that happened about an hour ago. That's right, the Democratic debate. (Actually, I think it might still be going on. I stopped watching when it became time for the candidates to answer questions from the public--mostly because I take a cynical view where the public is concerned, and much of the public tends to take the microphone and talk about themselves and their opinions instead of positing questions for the candidates--which was, after all, the point of giving them the microphone in the first place.)

First of all, was it just my imagination, or did only three of the candidates get most of the speaking time? I've had it with Clinton (and not just because I cataloged five books in a row about her or the Clinton administration). I wish I could support her--wouldn't it be *fantastic* to have a female president??--but gender in and of itself shouldn't be a consideration. I used to like Obama, until he got all angry and mic-hogging. And I had a soft spot for Edwards, too, but lately he's just faux-sensitive and dodgy.

There's a couple of things I look for during the debate. One is respect for the moderator--it's hard sometimes (no love for Wolf Blitzer--he let The Three run on and cut short the time of everyone else), but it should be there. This also includes keeping to the time allotted and not raising your voice when the moderator tries to keep you to time. The second is mud-slinging. So not interested in your opinions of the other candidates. Very interested in your opinions on the topic at hand. On a related note, I look for people who answer the question clearly and succinctly instead of twisting it around to mudslinging or halo-shining ("Look at me! Look at me!").

Honestly, I haven't been keeping up with the debates from either party. But based solely on this evening's debate, my attention's on Joe Biden for all of the above. Anyone can talk about their goals or what they would do if they became president. If that's the only qualification, I could do that too. But Biden was the only one who cut to the chase, gave some thought to the questions (instead of turning everything into a "The American people want--" or self-promotion), and actually listened to the moderator and to the people around him. Everyone else was talking loudly, but he was talking sensibly. And, let's face it, he's the only one on the stage with a sense of humor, too.

The obligatory disclaimer: this doesn't necessarily mean that my mind is made up about the whole election, it's just something I've observed from one debate. And, if I had to say which candidate "won" the debate, I think it would be Biden.

Sat, 10 Nov 2007 01:10:19 GMT

I got the interlibrary loans online!!!! Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up: the interlibrary loans were originally all on paper, which was annoying, because only the people who had the paper knew what was going on. Now, after much consulting and tedious catalog-editing, they are online, where they can be seen by patrons, ILL staff, and circ staff, to the great relief of all. Apparently, this is something for which the library had been yearning for years. And I did it! All by myself! (Mostly.) If you want more detail, I'd be happy to provide, but for anyone not interested in the finer points of ILS maintenance, the gist is: I rock. :D (I should perhaps note that the reason I'm gloating so much is because I hardly ever do things really really well...and so when it does happen, I have to enjoy the moment. :))

On the downside, one of my peeps has been systematically filing the biographies in with the fiction. Somehow I need to convince her of the error of her ways without shouting or using intimidating language like "How did you not notice this??" or "Did I mention that your job is on the line?" or "Aargh!"

In other news, I seem to be on a Princess Bride kick. Dunno where that came from.

Also also: the director gave each of the staff a dozen long-stemmed pink roses, which was really nice. After slaving over ILLs and angst-ing over my page, I feel like I've earned them.