Why Did the Librarian Cross the Road?

To get to the other slide!

There are some things in life that all of us take for granted: that the grass is always greener on the other slide, that two plus two equals (roughly) four, and that the average 22 year old, at some point during her life, picked up basic life skills like how to safely venture from one side of the road to the other. Well, one of those assumptions was shattered today.

I guess I was napping during my childhood lessons on road safety. As we all know, I have at times had trouble in this area, occasionally finding myself upon the hood of an impatient motorist's vehicle. I always assumed this was their fault, (because it always was, at least for those who see stop signs as a suggestion to be ignored at will) and took up jaywalking to protect myself. In my view, by crossing in the middle of the street you can pick a time when there are no cars and nearly guarantee you survival, whereas crosswalks are inherently flanked by potentially murderous motorists, and it only takes one psychopath to abruptly reunite you with Jesus. So before today, I always made my own fortune and crossed wherever I pleased.

Well, I always wondered what those little buttons were for. Are you sitting down? Because this may rock your world. Please sit down.

Apparently, when you push the button at the crosswalk, all traffic stops for long enough that even Grandma can safely make it to the other slide. I always wondered why I never got the walk signal at crosswalks, no matter how long I waited; apparently, they no longer accept telepathic messages (back in my day it was simpler....)

That is the funny thing about life; whenever you start feeling a little too smug and superior to your fellow man, along comes something like this to remind you that we are all defective in our own special ways. Celebrate your defects today!

I Can't Believe It's Not Cable!

For the past two months, I have been suffering.

Cox is having some kind of problems, so for the past two months I have not been able to access several digital channels, Biography channel included. I know what you're thinking, "Who cares? Biographies are for pansies." My thoughts exactly! But unfortunately, there is a definitely nonbiographical program that airs on Bio, and that is Airline. For lo these many months, I have been unable to view it. (I know, you empathize. It's okay to weep; we all love that show.)

Well, as you know, last week I was housesitting for Amy. Well, Tuesday morning at ten o'clock, I was scanning channels and what should I see? Airline! Turns out the problem is not with Cox, the problem is with me. I have been missing my show all this time for nothing!

So I scheduled to have the cable guy come out between 4 and 7. I had to work today, but I was thinking, "I get off at 5, I'll rush home, and I'm sure I'll be fine. They're always late anyway." Well, you probably know how this story ends. They called at 4:15 and showed up at 4:40. I considered shutting the library down early so I could watch my show next Tuesday, but then I realized that keeping my job is probably more important than keeping my cable. So I continue to do without.

But anyway, speaking of housesitting (I know, we weren't at the moment, but I'm all out of good segues,) I am really ready to live in a house again. Amy's house was in a very cute lil neighborhood, kind of like Murray Hill was a few years ago, lots of bungalows from the olden days. I spent many an evening rockin' away on the porch swing, or just exploring the neighborhood on foot. Being there made me miss having a porch swing, a garden, and curbside recycling. (I'll go ahead and answer your question before you ask it: Yes, it is possible to miss things that you have never had.) I'm still not ready to be a homeowner, but I think I'm ready to live in a house again. Maybe with a (potentially murderous) stranger, maybe with a friend (if I can make one in the next few months! That might cut into my TV time, though...) So I will keep patrolling craigslist, and maybe even say hi to the occasional stranger. Who knows where my next roommate might be lurking!

Holograms Are People, Too!

So two nights ago, I was watching this episode of Voyager where the doctor creates this holosuite program that portrays the crew in an unflattering manner. They are all offended, and at first he doesn't see their point of view, but he finally comes around. He has already transmitted it to his publisher on earth, but he asks the guy to wait while he makes some changes. Then, they discover that the guy is already distributing the program! Janeway angrily calls his to find out why, and he basically says, "This hologram doesn't have any rights, so as an official human, I am taking possession of his program!"

At this point I turned the TV off, because I was so sad. Why shouldn't the doctor have rights to his program, just because he happened to be a program as well? I also wondered why Janeway didn't just claim that she was his co-writer, which would give her the rights to the program. (Maybe she did; I wouldn't know since I turned it off.) Obama and McCain are all tied up in these temporary dilemmas like health care and education, but they really need to be forward thinking and focus on the issues of the future! Who would give copyrights to holograms? That candidate will get my vote.

In other news, I have probably told most of you the tragic story of when I went to Sonic for lunch and forgot my book, so I just stared sadly into space for twenty minutes, wondering what I could possibly do. Well, it almost happened again! Fortunately, I was still at work when I realized that I had left my book at home. (I know what you're thinking: "You were at a library, couldn't you just get another book? The answer is no, I could not, because I was in the middle of my book*, and it was very exciting, and I did not want to read anything else until it was complete.) I checked, and we did not have another copy of the book. So, I was (metaphorically) weeping in agony, trying to decide whether I should take a lunch break at all, when a miracle happened! I went over to the book drop, which appeared to be empty, but it was not. There was one book in it. My book! I began to cheer with glee, ignoring stares from passersby. So I am happy to tell you that I was able to eat lunch yesterday, and also that I got to finish my book! The End.

::applause::


*The book, by the way, was Life As We Knew It, by Susan Beth Pfeffer. I recommend this book for the following person(s):
1. Karli Dale
It's one of those that hooks you right near the beginning, and you can't put it down until you know how the story ends. Murray Hill has a copy that's not checked out. Go get it!

Want Some Silverware to Go With That Pop?

So Toni and I went out to lunch yesterday. I don't know if it was extra busy or if we were just extra special, but for some reason there was neither flatware nor napkins on our table. Well, we didn't realize this until after we were already salivating over our food, at which point we had to choose between eating with our faces liked savages, or waiting in agony while our food cooled. We choose option C, which was eating with our hands, pinkies extended, so it still looked ladylike. Fortunately, our waiter came back, and I thought this was our reprieve. Little did I know, it was only the start of a new type of oppression! Our encounter went down something like this:

Me: Excuse me, could we get some flatware?
Waiter: Some what?
Me: Some flatware.
(Waiter dude walks off, returns with flatware.)
Waiter: Did you call this flatware?
Me: Yes....
Waiter: Why would you call it that?
Me: I'm from Florida. That what we call it there.
Waiter: That's weird. You don't say silverware?
Me: No, silverware is made of silver. It's the fancy stuff you bring out for the guests.
Waiter: Oh, so this is just Chili's, nothing fancy? (He said this in a non-hostile manner, though that is hard to convey with the printed word.)
Me: Well, if you were serving us caviar and lobster, you would probably bring us silverware. Otherwise, we use flatware. (Is it my mission in life to school these hapless Okies?!)

Finally, at this point he relinquished the flatware and let us get on with our meal. Toni gave me an, "I can't take you anywhere," look, but other than that, our meal proceeded without incident. But regarding the other half of the title...

At work, we were taking an informal survey to decide what snacks/beverages to have at an upcoming get-together. One of my coworkers asked if I drank pop, and of course my response, (with an inaudible giggle,)was that I do not. I was about to respond with, "But I do drink soda," reigniting long dormant north-south hostilities, when Tonya chimed in with, "She doesn't drink anything good, only water!" So that has become our tradition; at our next shindig, the host will be serving margaritas, diet soda, and "fine water" for me. Bottoms up!

It's Not OK To Laugh At This!

First, I would like to begin with a book recommendation. ::checks over shoulder:: Is anybody looking? No? Ok, good! The Book is called Stuff White People Like, and it is available at the Jacksonville Public Library. (All copies are currently checked out, for obvious reasons.) The book presents 150 things white people like, each with a short explanation. It was written by an authentic White Guy. Let me just share with you a couple of entries I have read so far:

5. Farmer's Markets
White people are drawn to Farmer's Markets like moths to a flame.In fact, white people have such strong instincts that if you release a white person into a random Saturday morning they will return to you with a reusable bag full of fruits and vegetables. (Hmmm, I think I qualify as a provisional Caucasian based on this one.)

8. Barack Obama
White people like Obama because they are afraid that if they don't, they will be considered racist. (All the old folks nudging me at the library are proof enough of this.)

One of my coworkers ordered this book, and I borrowed her copy and have been stealthily reading at home. I feel like I need to cover it with brown paper, and I have begun responding with, "What?! A white person gave it to me!!" whenever someone asks me how my day was. It is hilarious in a very politically incorrect fashion. I shared it with Michaela when we went out to dinner, and we had a good laugh. Subsequently, to even things out she asked me whether you could actually see colored tattoos on colored folks, and I told her about Mom's coworker with Woody Woodpecker on her neck. (This was after I posed a question about a madman threatening you with death or the tattoo of your choice, which he would immediately apply.[I chose a yellow duck.] And before you ask, eating jars of mayonnaise was not presented as a third option.)

In closing, please, have a heart and read this book so I can have someone to discuss it with. I am only a quater of the way through, but the silence is already killing me.

Contagion- It's Not Just For Tuberculosis Anymore!

So yesterday, I had a hot date with Michaela. We actually hadn't seen each other since the spring, though we have been making tentative plans to get together for a while, and then canceling them for one reason or another at the last minute. Michaela is one of my few freshman year friends who is still in town, and one of only two that i still keep in touch with. She finished her undergrad in May, and now she is pursuing her MBA. After she is finished, it will just be me and Kendra! But once again, I digress. (That seems to happen more and more as I approach retirement age...)

So anyway, hot date. We went to Pizza Hut and did what people do there, then stayed for a couple more hours just catching up and chatting. (Obviously, you miss a lot in six months.) It was funny, because when it got to be about 10:15, we started wondering if the place was closing, and if maybe we were the only thing keeping the employees from going home. I wouldn't expect them to close that early on the weekends, but we were the only people in there, and you never know.

There were cards from this trivia game for customers to amuse themselves with after all possible conversational topics had been exhausted, so by the start of hour three we had resorted to these. We were quizzing each other on amazingly obscure facts, and berating each other for our respective lacks of knowledge, when a girl walked by, sweeping the floor.

I believe at this time, Michaela was mocking me for not knowing the answer to some "amazingly simple" question. The memory is so traumatic that I have partially blocked it, so I can't be entirely sure. As I was wringing my brain for the answer, the girl said, "Is it gumbo?" Indeed, it was.

Then she said, "We're so glad you guys are here."

My first thought was that this was sarcasm, and I was preparing my, "Are you closed? I'm so sorry. We can't read. We were having an intervention for my life-threatening drug problem, and she was finally getting through to me. We're going to be gunned down as soon as we leave the building, and we're just cherishing these last moments of life. Insert other heart-wrenching tale that excuses our inconsideration."

But then she said, "You guys have been sitting over here, laughing and having fun for all this time. It's bringing up the mood in this place just having you here!"*

We didn't really know how to respond to that, but we promised to keep up the merriment as long as possible. We actually ended up staying for about another hour, then it was time for old ladies to get their rest. But that made my day. Who knows when, by just being your normal, spastic self, you could be adding some joy to someone else's life?






*Paraphrased. I really can't remember what she actually said, but you get the drift. Happiness. Contagious. Dig?

I Think I Hear an Owl....

In case you hadn't noticed, it is nearly 5 am. Why am I awake, you ask? Blame the folly of youth. While struggling to stay awake until a respectable hour (read: after 10pm) like a girl of twenty instead of a hag of ninety-six, my body gave up the fight with fatigue and took a nice two hour cat nap on the couch. Which meant that I woke up at 12am. So of course, I am awake and chipper at the moment. Unfortunately, no one else is, so it's kind of lonely. Is there anyone alive out there (out there)? Can anyone hear me (hear me)?

I'll take that as a no.

COME ABOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUTTT!

The Beverage Incident

So a few nights ago, a few friends from church and I went to Starbucks. Now normally, I would rather sip on a nice refreshing glass of water, but I didn't want to stick out like a sore thumb, so I ordered a hot chocolate. The night proceeded without further incident.

Well, when I told my coworkers about this event, they were shocked and somewhat disbelieving. You see, I always drink water with lunch, and even when we go out after work, h2o is my beverage of choice. They demanded pictorial evidence of this allegedly flavorful beverage, which I was unfortunately unable to supply. Still, my weekend escapades were profiled in our newsletter, which goes out to everyone who works at our branch.

Fast forward to yesterday. It was my night to work late, which is the only time I really get to talk to Tonya, since she works 5-8 every night. It was actually pretty slow, so we were just checking in books and chatting. Then, I remembered that I hadn't told her about my visit to Fusion. Eagerly, I said, "Tonya, guess what I did last night?"

Bracing herself against the wall, Tonya said, "Don't tell me you had another beverage. My heart can't handle the shock."

Some people are so dramatic.

New Small Group

Today I visited a new small group named Fusion. Yes, this is the one I was going to visit last week, but didn't because I was sick. As I jokingly told Tonya, I guess I am just destined to be a member of a men's bible study, as this group was five guys and me. Well, perhaps I can convince Kendra to join me. Or start pricing that gender reassignment surgery. Whatever it takes to fit in!

Are You Ready For Some JESUUUUUS?!

So, today I realized that I have missed a WHOLE MONTH of football. How did this happen? Apparently, I am more oblivious than I appear. How long have I been waiting, nay agonizing, for the start of the glorious football season? And I missed it by a month?! Well, at least it was just the preseason.

Today, I made my official return to church. I went last week, but I just went with Kendra and didn't greet. This week, I officially rejoined the greeting team. It was SO good to be back. I hadn't realized how much I missed everyone, and just getting together and worshiping/fellowshiping as a group. I have missed that feeling of connection. And good things are happening on the greeting team. We have grown a lot in my absence! Now we have more than enough people, and we are really focusing on getting to know each person that comes through the door, which is how church should be! A shout out goes to Mom for convincing me to return.

How it All Started

One day, a young girl was skipping through a meadow. She was fairly content, but her life was not quite complete. She had an apron full of acorns and a heart free of troubles- what more could a young girl want?

As she was pondering this question, the clouds parted, and a deep, official sounding voice proclaimed, "If you blog it, they will come."

The girl said, "God, is that you?"

There was a long silence.

Long story short, the voice was not God. But the idea had already taken root, so the girl abandoned her acorns and sprinted to the nearest internet cafe, where she dashed off the first entry on her newfound blog.

Pressing the "publish" button, the girl felt complete, and she knew that her life would never be the same again.

This is her story.

::applause::