Enjoying each day more and more

You know what's weird? Like SIX girls I went to college with are now ministers. Real ones, with the collar and everything. My liberal arts college was sort of loosely associated with the Presbyterian church, but I didn't actually know anyone who went to church at the time. It was a normal college, with drinking and stuff. What, I ask you, is the deal?

Anyway, these women are somehow now my Fasebook friends. A couple of sample status updates: "Minister Lady is struggling with hymns for Epiphany. Is it just me, or are a lot of them really bad?" or "Other Minister Lady is enjoying each day more and more at the new church."

My status updates are like: "Soggy Librarian just punched a library patron in the eyeball" or "Soggy Librarian is drunk at work--AGAIN!!1"* It's fun getting back in touch.

Happy new year, sinners.


*Not really. My boss is also my FB friend.

Truly an amazing supergroup

'Sup, internets! Long time no chats. I hope you had a nice holiday.

As you may know, I got my wish for a blizzard in Seattle--the city pretty much shut down for over a week. Sorry about that, Seattlites! Next time I'll also wish for some snow plows. I have to admit that I enjoyed the snow the whole time, but it's true that what we've been left with the past couple of days--big piles of sandy slush--is not as magical.

It also blizzarded in Utah, where we were visiting Mr. A's family. Specifically, it began blizzarding just as we were boarding our flight back to Seattle on Christmas night. So we ended up spending 3+ hours on the tarmac, waiting for the runway to be cleared and for our plane to be de-iced. There was no air conditioning, and from what I could tell, no air, period--I have never been in such a hot, oxygen-poor environment in my life. We sat there, watching it snow and sweating our asses off. LITERALLY!! I am now ass-less.*

Anyway, I know everyone has suck-o plane stories, and you probably have one that is way worse than this one, but I am telling you this story because I learned something interesting from this experience: the point at which I start yelling at strangers. And it involves Roy Orbison.

We had been sweating it up in the tin can for at least 2.5 hours when a guy behind me started singing. He sang each and every word of "Handle Me With Care," beginning to end, in a high falsetto. Then he started pontificating to his girlfriend. "The Traveling Wilburys--truly an amazing supergroup. Tom Petty. Roy Orbison. Bob Dylan. Incredible song-writing. Indeed, this was one of Roy Orbison's final recordings."**

AND THEN. He started up again, from the top: "Ev-ree-BAH-dee. Needs sum-BAH-dee. To LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN on."

At that point I turned around and smushed my face into the crack between my seat and the seat next to me so as to be able to make eye contact and said (hissed), "Listen. I don't mean to be rude but we've been here a while and it is VERY HOT and I REALLY DON'T KNOW IF I CAN TAKE ANY MORE SINGING OKAY?!? GREAT!!"

The guy obviously could see the crazy in my eyes because he said, "I'm shutting up now." And he did.

And that is how I spread Christmas cheer by preventing others from singing loud for all to hear!


*Sadly, not true.
**Okay, maybe he didn't really say "indeed." But he was definitely using an "indeed" voice.

We may have to rumble for them

Okay, that wasn't much of a post, and I did promise you a REAL post today, so here is another one. And guess what? It is about your favorite topic! That's right, the weather!

The weather, my friends, is cold. Perhaps not Denmark cold, but we haven't been above freezing for quite some time and aren't expected to anytime soon, and Seattle CANNOT BELIEVE IT. I'm actually enjoying it. I think my big problem with Seattle weather is that when it's cold, it's not quite cold enough, so I think I can still dress fashionably in tights and whatnot, and end up pissed off with blue fingers and toes. But once it dips comfortably below 25 I put on my big puffy coat and hat with a pom pom on it and am perfectly toasty.

And tomorrow: More snow!! I'm so dorkily interested in the snow that I read this almost minute-by-minute forecast for the next couple of days in its entirety.

The bummer, though, is that even though Seattle's snow-coping arsenal includes about three bags of sand, I'll probably still have to come to work. Even though the buses won't run properly, and I'll probably get stuck downtown and have to live for weeks off the snacks we save for the volunteers. I'm worried that other departments know about those snacks and we may have to rumble for them once everyone's eaten all the unlabeled yogurts in their department refrigerators. And I'll tell you what: those art librarians may be older on average, but they are tough as nails.



Edited to add: I just realized that I used the phrase "my friends" in this post. Sorry about that. I didn't mean to give you McCain flashbacks.

Like a pro!

Currently I am gnawing a peppermint stick as if a bone. Luckily my cube-mate is away, so no one suffers.

Yesterday I went to the post office to mail some packages and I don't want to shock you, but that place was busy! Yowza! Most of the people in line were waiting to talk to actual humans, though, so I got in the shorter line to use the package-sending machine. Still, there were definitely a bunch of people waiting on me, so I tried to mail my packages as quickly as I could. I could feel all the eyes on my back, willing me to hurry the hell up already.

When I stamped the last package, the guy behind me patted me on the shoulder and said, "I just want you to know, you did a really amazing job with that. You handled that machine like a pro!"

What makes blogging great

This post is just to get that nasty cranky one off the top of the page. I've actually been quite filled with holiday good cheer the past few days. (Don't you love this minute-by-minute breakdown of my moods? It's what makes blogging great!) For one thing, it snowed, which I never get tired of. Well, at least not yet. Being from Alabama makes every snow day seem magical.

Real post tomorrow. In the meantime: Do you think I'm a jerk for basically giving my brother nothing but a gift to charity in his name for Christmas? I've been feeling kind of bad about it. But then I remember that he left everything I gave him last year in a big heap on the floor and told my mom to throw it away for him, and the guilt subsides.

Pinching

The coffee cart in the library is inexplicably closed today. Et tu, coffee cart?

**
**

I had a bad week at work last week--like, Worst Week Ever--and I haven't quite been able to shake the bad mood it's left me in. I haven't been sleeping well because I'm too busy lying awake in bed, thinking about pinching people very hard.

You guys, I'm too young to burn out on this job! We have a mortgage and a lot of student debt to pay off, and I have very few marketable skills. Do you think I could be a freelance/telecommuting Talk To Teenagers About Books Person?

Sigh. Me neither.

The Case of What is That Bodily Fluid

I spent most of yesterday thrifting, and one of my purchases was an old man hat. Specifically, it is one of those tweed hats that an older British gentleman or perhaps Columbo might wear.



I fell in love with this hat, and wore it all day yesterday despite the fact that it smells strongly of moth balls. I feel it gives me a certain air of dignity, in the manner of a noir detective.

When I picked Mr. Awesome up at work he complimented me on it right away. I asked him if he thought the hat would give me the power to solve mysteries.

"Absolutely. Library mysteries!"

"Too bad there are already about ten different book series about librarians solving mysteries."

"Yeah. But you could solve REAL library mysteries. Like, 'The Mystery of What is That Guy's Problem?'"

"Totally! Or, 'The Case of What is that Bodily Fluid, and How Did It Get There?'"

"Exactly."

Pop Culture Breakdown

Thank you all so much for your brilliant swearing and faux-swearing suggestions. My horizons have truly expanded.

I'm embarrassed to say that I missed the first airing of Moonlight and Mistletoe, being out in the woods with no tv. But don't worry, I'm tuned in to the Hallmark Channel 24/7 until it comes on again. I'm inspired by you brave souls who toughed it out. By the way, did anyone catch The Christmas Wish on Lifetime, starring Neil Patrick Harris, Debbie Reynolds and Naomi Watts? Wow.

While we're on the subject, let's do a little . . .

Pop Culture Breakdown

1. Twilight: The Major Motion Picture

Did you notice that montage where, after Edward and Bella fly/climb up to the top of some insanely high trees over a cliff and sway in the breeze as the camera swirls around them to dramatic effect, and then---they are suddenly in a smoky piano bar where Edward is playing the piano as Bella rests her head worshipfully on his shoulder?

I mean, what exactly is she supposed to be thinking in that moment? "Oh Edward, that flying thing you do is pretty cool but THE WAY YOU TICKLE THE IVORIES! It just GETS me! Play me another one, you devil you!"

That scene alone was completely worth the price of admission. Mr. Awesome and I had tears rolling down our faces, we were laughing so hard.

2. The Amazing Race: The Season With No One to Root For

How about those frat boys? Are they the chumpiest chuckleheads you've ever seen, or what? HOW ARE THEY STILL IN THIS RACE?! Lort i lagkage, I hate them so.

3. Jon & Kate + 8 = HELL ON EARTH

Is it me, or are these people just completely horrible? I watch them with a sort of fascinated despair.

Peer pressure

Colds are stupid, are they not? Stupid and annoying. I'm glad we can agree.

On a happier note, I had a lovely Thanksgiving holiday in the woods, thank you for asking! Here is a nice blurry picture of a hike that we went on.

From Packwood, Thanksgiving 2008

Here is me making an angry face. Nature makes me so agro!

From Packwood, Thanksgiving 2008

Here is Mr. Awesome, sketching the pretty river.

From Packwood, Thanksgiving 2008

Here is me doing a shot at the local bar. How did I end up doing a shot at the local bar? PEER PRESSURE. Peer pressure is a dangerous thing, my friends. Resist!

From Packwood, Thanksgiving 2008

Sometimes our crappy camera doesn't open its shutter all the way, but it always seems to capture the most important part. These are our friends who actually own the cabin. Aren't they cute?

From Packwood, Thanksgiving 2008

We haven't lost Santaville yet!

Mr. Awesome seems like a pretty normal guy, and in most ways he is. But he has one weakness: terrible, made-for-television holiday movies starring D-list actors. He loves them. LOVES. And now I am a complete convert.

For instance? A few years ago our favorite was this fine film, starring Tori Spelling, William Shatner and Gary Coleman--PLUS the added bonus of Jack #2 (or was it #3?) from Days of Our Lives. Tori Spelling is Scrooge, see, and she should have realized that Jack #2 was about to propose to her a long time ago before she became such a big star, only she didn't and now she is too big for her britches. Now, only Angel Gary Coleman can set things right!

That movie has been the gold standard of the genre. Until now. Because now, my friends, we anxiously anticipate Moonlight and Mistletoe, starring Tom Arnold and Candace Cameron Bure.

A quote from the preview: "We haven't lost Santaville yet!!" How can it not be awesome? Come on. You know you'll watch it.

Happy Thanksgiving, peops.


p.s. I'm off to the woods for a few days. It's clear I have been a hopeless failure at NaBloPoMo, but I guess I have decided that this blog deserves to live--barely.

Flippin' heck!

I have kind of a dirty mouth. I really enjoy swearing, and usually am not particularly apologetic about it. But I do work with kids, and sometimes it occurs to me that maybe I should cool it just a little with the pirate language.

Part of the problem is that I don't have enough good, clean exclamatory words at my disposal. Like, if I want to say that something is awesome, or that something sucks, those are pretty much the only two words I use to express those feelings without resorting to profanity. There are other modes of expression out there, though, and I have occasionally tried to employ them.

For instance, here are some vocabulary-building avenues I have explored.

1. Britishisms

Positive exclamations:
"Simply ripping!"
"Spiffy!"
"Boffing!"
"Blimey!" (can also be used as negative)

Negative exclamations:
"Bugger!"
"Bloody hell!"
"Bollocks!"

I quite enjoy the Britishisms, but there is no getting around the fact that as an American, using them makes me sound like a complete tosser.

2. Old Ladyisms

Neutral exclamations:
"My stars!"
"Heavens!"
"Goodness gracious!"

Negative exclamations:
"Whoopsie daisy!"
"Oh dear!"

I do use some of these sometimes--"My stars" is kind of a favorite, being also a Southernism--but I'm just not quite old enough yet to use these with credibility.

3. Mormonisms

Negative exclamations:
"Ding-dang it!"
"Crud!" (variant: "Scrud!")
"Fishsticks!"
"For Pete's sake!"
"Flippin' heck!"
"Oh fetch!"

Aren't these awesome?! There are a ton more, but having not been raised Mormon I can only remember these few. Maybe there are also positive Mormon exclamations, but I don't know those. At any rate, I deeply respect the way that Mormons realized that swearing is wrong and then built up a lengthy, expressive vocabulary of their very own swears. It warms the heart.

Still, I'm not Mormon, and I feel like stealing their very awesome swears could be seen as making fun of them, even though I regard their swear language with great admiration.

So I'm back where I started. Does anyone have any suggestions for me?

That'll work

At the reference desk, part 7,964:

Patron: Do you have a Port-O-Potty on this floor?

Me: Ahm. No. But we have restrooms on levels 1, 4, and 7.

Patron: Oh. Well, I guess that'll work.

Nice jacket

I have this bright yellow jacket. I mean, it is really bright. I needed a biking jacket, and Mr. Awesome made me get the very brightest one they had. Apparently, science has made some real strides in neon colors in the last few years, because I'm pretty sure this one gives off its own light.

Anyway, this brightness is completely fine for riding the bike, and it's good for safety, and all that crap. Visually, it makes sense when I am also wearing the ridiculous biking pants.* But if I don't pack a different jacket to wear when I'm running errands during the day at work (and I usually don't), then I have to wear the radioactive glowing jacket with my regular outfit. And I look like a freak.

I was already aware of this, but it was really brought home to me today when I left the building wearing the jacket and my regular, non-biking pants. As I walked out the door, a homeless dude
spotted me, gave me a once-over, and said in a voice dripping with sarcasm, "Hey. Nice jacket."


*With shorts over them. Call me a prude, but I don't think anyone should have to see anyone in just the ridiculous biking pants. It's uncomfortable.

Subconscious arguments with myself

So, I'm still riding my bike to work sometimes. Not every day, mind you, and I often wimp out and put it on the bus for the ride back home. (The ride home is slightly more uphill than the ride to work, you see.) But get this--last night I had an anxiety dream that I forgot to bike to work today. And took the bus instead. That was it! Big disaster! I took the bus!


I don't know whether to be relieved or saddened that this is the level to which my anxiety dreams have sunk.

**
**

My kidneys hurt. This has been going on for a while now, and at first I thought maybe I wasn't drinking enough water. Except that I drink approximately 12 gallons of water per day, as well as a few cups of herbal tea. (And yes, okay, some coffee, but not THAT much coffee. Well, not that much for Seattle.) And then I realized: it's because I hold it. See, there's no bathroom on my floor of the library--not for staff, and not for patrons. This situation is the cause of some dismay for patrons, and some kidney issues for staff, namely me.

I'll sit at the reference desk for hours, holding it, because going to another floor is like, an errand. I'll be gone from the desk for at least 10-15 minutes, and I'm convinced that by that time the teenagers* might have burned the place down. Plus, there is the lazy. Sometimes I'll have almost subconscious arguments with myself where I'm like, "I'll just hold it another 20 minutes. That way, maybe I can just go to the bathroom 4 times today, instead of 6! I'm saving half an hour!!"

But losing my kidneys. So maybe I should rethink that strategery.


*Actually, to be fair, in terms of burning the place down the teenagers aren't nearly as big of a threat as the other people who hang out on my floor. Every day I have to remind a big group of dudes that they can't roll their cigarettes inside the library, and I'm sure they'd light right up if I let them.

Cutest and saddest

This is simultaneously the cutest and saddest thing I have ever seen.

Pity and befuddlement

There are a bunch of teens in the library right now doing a scavenger hunt, and apparently one of the items on their list is to get a librarian to tell them a joke. I only know two jokes. One of them is about Sarah Palin. This is the other one:

Q: Why doesn't Hitler drink tequila?
A: Because it makes him mean.

I also thought of one time when Mr. Awesome was asked to tell a joke in a job interview. I can't remember what he actually said, but when he told our friends the story, his response was, "Don't you think it's weird that we say that we TAKE a shit, when we really LEAVE a shit? I mean WHAT. Is the DEAL. With THAT."

Anyway, for the teenagers I had to resort to the old "Sam and Janet Evening" knock-knock joke. I've never had a group of people look at me with such a mixture of pity and befuddlement as those teens did when I started singing a show tune from South Pacific.

I will leave you to ponder

Conversation I just had with an elderly male patron, in its entirety:

Him: I think I just offended the African American culture.

Me: Oh. Um, well . . . I'm sure the culture will be willing to forgive you.

Him: Perhaps. I often have trouble understanding what we determine to be right and wrong in these modern times.

Me: Hmm. Well, I think a lot of us do.

Him: People dress to express their inner selves. Wearing yellow and gold signifies cowardliness. I will leave you to ponder that thought.

Me (wearing a yellow shirt and goldish-orange cardigan): Thank you. Have a good day.

Very nice

I had a very nice day off.  I spent a couple of hours finishing my book at a coffee shop, then walked on the beach at Discovery Park.  That is all.

If I'm going to post to this thing every day, there are going to be some stinkers.

Don't let those idiots hornswaggle you

My mom called me the other night and told me she had to come clean: she voted for McCain. In the end, she said, she couldn't bring herself to vote against the "pro-life" candidate. She voted in the Democratic primary--for Obama--and (unbeknownst to me) fretted about her final decision right up to election day. So much so, she said, that in the voting booth, she actually started voting for Obama, and then remembered at the last second that she'd decided to vote for McCain. I had no idea that I had been talking to a swing voter on the phone all these months. Obviously, I could have done better.

So when you were wondering all this time who that last undecided voter was? And if they enjoyed platters of shit with broken glass in them? That was my mom. And, well . . . no comment, I guess.

The whole time she was talking my dad was on the other phone, hollering, "The Republicans will never overturn Roe v. Wade! They'd lose their base! Don't let those idiots hornswaggle you!" And I might have jumped in with a few Palin-related comments. It's possible. But then we both let her off the hook. She's a nice person, and she doesn't live in a swing state. Also, it takes guts to come clean to a liberal nut like me. And apparently, my dad.

Still, if the election had been conducted just among my family, Obama would have won 3-1. That's right: my Sigma Nu, Republican, hunting-and-fishing, tax attorney brother--who once complained over Christmas dinner that the government might take some of our parents' money when they die and that therefore he wouldn't get his rightful share of it (all)--voted for Obama.

Why? Sarah Palin. You betcha! There is hope for him yet.

The most awesomest information thing

Thank you for the suggestions for filling my day off yesterday. I tried to follow them, with spotty success. Kent mentioned heading to a coffeeshop with a book. So I went to two different coffeeshops (driving to both, naturally--walking is for commies), but they were both packed. Not only was every seat taken, but there were actually Seattlites standing glumly in doorways, waiting for a table to open up. I guess library employees weren't the only ones with the day off. I like reading in coffeeshops and all, but not that much.

So that didn't work, but my failure did allow me to follow through on Readerguide's idea of just reading at home on the couch. Score one for me! (I'm reading Watchmen right now, by the way, and it's making me concerned that I might be an idiot. I can't seem to keep the characters straight. All those strong jaw lines look alike to me.)

Then I was saved from my own lack of imagination by PCL and a trip to Anthropolo-Gee-that-is-very-expensive. It was a successful shopping trip for both of us: she found a cute top, and I managed not to buy anything. Well, until I bought two t-shirts at the H&M next door for like $1.47. They may not be great fashion pieces but they will keep me not naked. I'm lowering my fashion standards in these troubled economic times. Plus, we just paid taxes on the car.

When I got home I tried to complete Kent's second suggestion of cooking a real dinner. First I baked some chocolate chip cookies to take to our new neighbors--oops, nope, I completely burnt them and threw them away. Then I spent a very long time making a fancy eggplant pesto lasagna for Mr. Awesome . . . and it wasn't very good either. It was edible, but it wasn't something I would proudly point to and say, "There lies two and a half hours of my life." I'm not a good cook, and while this is not something I'm proud of, it's something I try to accept. Still, usually I can follow directions and come up with something edible. Not lately though. I'm like the anti-wife. It's sad.

In brighter news, today at the library I taught a group of seven teens in foster care how to search the library's website for magazine and newspaper articles; they were doing research for the local teen newspaper they write for. One of them said, "This is like, the most awesomest information thing I have ever seen." I'm thinking of having that made into a t-shirt.


p.s. Elizabeth, I'm off Friday and I'll try to follow up on at least one of your suggestions then.

Stories on TLC

There are many things about being a civil servant that aren't so awesome.  But there are definitely some ticks in the awesome column, such as the fact that we get Veteran's Day off.  I was going to take the car out to Ik3a today (because I can), but I think that errand will have to wait another pay day.  Fred Meyer already claimed all of our spending money for this cycle.  And I guess it's just as well--any trip to Ik3a always ends with me in a blind rage.  Mr. Awesome and I have vowed never to go there together again because even though we hardly ever fight, Ik3a is a guaranteed brawl every time.  We always get lost in the scary suburbs where the Ik3a lives, and also, Ik3a itself is a swirling hellmouth.  But hey, cheap curtains!

So I've got a chilly, drizzly Seattle day off to fill.  Any thoughts for what I should do with it?  I'm feeling uninspired.  Don't let me remain unshowered until 3 p.m. watching Stories on TLC.

A dental hero

My right eye is infected and it's really gross--all puffy and red and swollen.  My doctor was sufficiently disgusted by my appearance to tell me to stay home from work today.   So I watched some My So-Called Life episodes; I have the series checked out from the library right now and Mr. Awesome has no interest in watching it, so this was a golden opportunity.  I haven't seen that show since it aired, and it's weird to see those ugly plaid shirt dresses that Angela always wears and know I had a bunch of them.  Oh Grunge, you cast a long, ugly shadow over the fashion world.  

In other exciting health-related news, I went to the dentist.  32 years and still no cavities.  There aren't many things I'm really good at, but I am amazing at not getting cavitities.  I don't really floss very often, but the hygenist and the dentist always go into raptures about how amazingly well I take care of my teeth, and regard me as a sort of dental hero.  It's nice.  Also, today my dentist was wearing the most resplendent Cosby sweater I've ever seen--more resplendent even than those actually worn by Cosby.  It was more like Joseph's (or Dolly's) coat of many colors.  I was fascinated.

Sorry, environment

I'm sucking at this post-every-day thing, aren't I?  Don't answer that.

So, after a car-free summer, Mr. Awesome and I are car owners once again.  A couple of years ago his car got stolen and stripped to the bones by some suburban thugs who apparently needed to pimp out their Honda.  Our remaining car, my 1998 Nissan Sentra, was rear-ended this June and declared deceased by our insurance company.  (Which was actually pretty sweet because we got about $4500 for it, and otherwise I know we would have had to sell it for parts.  It was a heap.)

We went without a car for a few months, partly because we were waiting for the insurance money to clear and we were taking time to research cars, and partly to see if we could get by without one.  It turns out that we could.  We both work downtown now, and we can commute by bus in 15-20 minutes.  I biked a lot.  If we were out late (which we almost never were, being old and tired), we'd sometimes take a cab.  It was doable.  

But also, it completely sucked.  We were a pain in our friends' collective ass, always needing a ride or to borrow a car.  Buying anything heavy or bulky required serious planning--it was almost impossible to carry home both kitty litter AND laundry detergent.   I pulled some crazy capers trying to get 3 full bags of groceries home on my bike.  And without a car, it's pretty hard to be spontaneous.  If you want to get away for a weekend--or even just go out to a restaurant on the other side of town--you have to start planning well in advance.

But now we have a car of our own!  Just like Real Americans!  (It looks like this, if you are the kind of person who cares about such things.)  It's not new, but it's the newest car I've owned.  And it has fancy features that we have never before experienced in a car of our own, such as a CD player and (gasp!) a rear window wiper.  And you can put a ton of shit in it without even trying.  Yesterday we went to Fred Meyer and bought one of everything they had.

I must say, it's pretty effing nice to be driving again.  Sorry, environment.  Guess I don't love you quite as much as I thought.

Tresemme Hair Salon and the Loreal Paris Makeup Room

Tonight we hosted M.T. Anders0n at our library, and boy, does he rule.  You know how it is with authors--sometimes the ones you think will be really great, dynamic speakers turn out to be, well, authors.  They're shy and introverted and kind of hard to watch.  (Like I would be.)  I thought M.T. might be one of those--like, that since his books are kind of dark that maybe he spends a lot of time alone, wearing black, or something.  But nope.

He looks and dresses sort of like the coolest professor at your college.  When he was writing his Octavian Nothing books (for three years, mind you) he only read books that were written in the 18th century, or else books that those people would have read.  Like the Greeks and Romans.

Also, when I first met him he made a joke about me sweeping him off to the Tresemme Hair Salon and the Loreal Paris Makeup Room before he went onstage, and my heart was his forever.

Yes We Did

I don't expect to see anything more wonderful on the world stage in my lifetime than Obama winning the election.  I don't have anything particularly smart or eloquent to say about it, but I did have some booty shaking to do about it last night.  Those booty shakes go out to you, Mr. Obama. Thank you.

Twitchy

Mr. Awesome and I were the first people to vote in our precinct this morning--numbers 1 and 2. We were there about 10 minutes before the polls opened, and there were already about 25 people there. We all quequed up quietly like the docile North Seattlites that we are.

After today, all elections in Washington state will be vote by mail, and I'm a bit sad about it. I've voted by mail before, and I acknowledge that it is cool to take your time with the ballot over coffee and whatnot. But there is something about the air of celebration at the polling place--even at 6:45 on a cold, wet morning--that I'll miss. Plus, with vote by mail? No sticker.

I'm going to be in a meeting most of the day today, which I kind of can't believe. Sure, sure, it's probably better for me to be away from a computer, but I know I'm going to get twitchy. I might have to pop out for a few minutes if the shakes set in.

Mr. Awesome just sent me this election day cuteness distraction. Did you even know such adorableness was possible?

Go vote now. And if you've already voted, please allow me to say that you are looking smoking hot today and everybody knows it.

I've got crazy

All right then. Even though it's too late for me to really do nablopomo, I'm doing it anyway. If, after a month(ish) of forcing myself to write something in this sad little blog every day, I find that the blog still deserves to die, I will kill it dead. I will even be gracious enough to remove its moldy corpse from the internet. (Aren't you glad I'm back? It's writing like that that keeps the fans clamoring for more.)

Unfortunately, I won't be able to write very much of interest until Nov. 5th, because at this time I have to spend all of my free time fretting about the election. ALL of it. Plus some time that should really be set aside for other things, such as working, eating, and going to the bathroom.

Part of the problem is that, in my deep and abiding self-centeredness, I truly believe two things:

1. Whether or not Obama wins this election depends entirely on me and how overconfident I allow myself to get. If I ever let the words, "I think Obama is going to w__" cross my lips, it's all over.

2. If I take my eyes off of the polls for more than fifteen minutes, John McCain will suddenly be ten points ahead and will then surge to victory. I am keeping the electoral map blue by sheer force of will.

I mean sure, some people are opening their homes to buzillions of Obama volunteers, canvassing nonstop, making phone calls. But hey, I've got crazy completely covered. So don't you worry your pretty little head about that.

Blog Death Watch

Blog, my friend, things are not looking good for you.

I think I have used up all my blog-related thoughts. I've been blogging on and off (mostly on) for a while now. I mean, not since the days of the blog pioneers, when bison ranged free over the internets and you had to cook up your html over an open flame, but for a while. Occasionally these days I start a post and I think, didn't I write a post just like this one sometime back around 2002? And also: who gives a crap?

The thing is, I am interested in the minutia of OTHER people's lives. I love reading blogs. But the minutia of my own life just seems kind of, er, minute.

Who knows, maybe I will experience a big bloggy renaissance at some point. But probably not this week.

But before I kill you dead, how about a photo? I've heard that people enjoy photos.

The Highs and Lows of Teen Librarianism

As summed up in one Sunday afternoon shift.

The Low

6th grade girl: Do you have any Terry Pratchett Books? What other fantasy and science fiction books to you have? I love reading! Books are awesome, etc.

Me: You know, you should check out our Teen Summer Reading Program. All you have to do is write one book review, and you get a free book!

6th grade girl: Um, no. No way man. No thanks. See ya.


The High

5th (?) grade boy: Do you have any manga?

Me: Yes! Yes we do. It is right over here.

5th grade boy (seeing the manga collection): Oh man. Oh my gosh. I HAVE HIT THE JACKPOT!!!


Updated to add: And then right after that, an older patron came to the desk asking for a book (which apparently doesn't exist). While I was looking it up, she let go with the longest, loudest, breeziest fart I have ever heard. It was truly impressive.

Let's Call Him Bozo

In the sad days before I met Mr. Awesome, I went out on quite a few bad dates. In fact, I endured some relationships which were essentially strings of bad dates stretched over a period of several months. These days, I can usually just forget that the person who participated in those relationships was actually me, instead of some total idiot in a movie I once saw on an airplane or something. But a recent conversation with PCL brought the memories flooding back. And also the questions. Such as: Why did I force myself to hang out with such tedious people? Why did I not tell these chuckleheads that I was waiting for Mr. Awesome, and that they could just pack up their Foucault essays/soul patches/trucker hats and go home?

Well, I still can't really answer that. Instead, I offer you the story of the date that finally broke me. After this single date, I gave up on heterosexuality and reconciled myself to a long, happy, solitary life. Well, not solitary. Cat-filled. Until the eventual arrival of Mr. Awesome.


So I was dating this guy, let's call him Bozo. Bozo lived in a basement apartment, didn't have a job, and there was no evidence to suggest that he had ever washed his hair. So you can see the attraction! I was smitten!

On maybe our third date, Bozo took me to a party. The host came out to greet us holding a Nasty Little Dog* on a leash. The NLD was straining and snarling and all but foaming at the mouth. Suddenly the NLD broke free--or maybe the host let him go, I could never be sure--and sank his teeth into my leg. I was wearing jeans but NLD easily bit right through them, and for a few moments he was suspended in the air, supported only by his teeth in my thigh. When the hideous creature finally lost his grip, the owner picked up the leash again, pulled him away, and said something really sensitive and concerned, like, "Oops! Sorry 'bout that."


Needless to say, at that point I was 100% done with the party. But Bozo ushered me into the house and suggested that I slip into the bathroom to clean myself up, so as not to offend the other guests with my oozing leg. It was all bloody and bruisy and stuff. Nobody offered me so much as a cotton swab.

When I rejoined the party, the hostess said, "I hear Nasty Little Dog decided he didn't like you. That NLD, he's soooooooo funny! He always decides right away who he likes and who he doesn't! Tee hee!!"

We stayed at the party for about two hours, which I whiled away by fuming silently. Now, I guess I should say, in all fairness to Bozo, that it wasn't completely his fault that he was friends with some jerkwads who owned a feral dog. True, he could have chosen his friends more carefully. He could have suggested at some point during the evening that having their dog bite his date was not the best of all possible outcomes. He could have, say, suggested we leave. But still, in my mind, up to this point he had not crossed the line into The Land of the Unforgivable.

When we were finally back in the car on the way home, I said, "Maybe I should go into a clinic or something? Or at least call the nurse hotline. I haven't had a tetanus shot, and my leg is turning all purple and yellow and stuff."

And what did Bozo say? Did he say, "Indeed, we must rush you to the emergency room immediately! No one has ever suffered more than what you suffer now! Your courage in this terrifying situation is unparalled, and we will now undertake any means necessary to nurse you back to full health!"?

I think we can all agree that this would have been the only appropriate response.

But no. That's not what he said. What he said was, "Don't be crazy. You really like to make a big deal out of things, don't you? I guess we could stop at Bartells for a band-aid or something."

And that was the end of my dating career.

*It was one of those mini Dobermans. Please never own one of those. Okay? Thank you.

Summah tiiiiime, and the living is eeeeeeasy

Yesterday we went swimming! I know to normal people living in normal places that doesn't sound like much of an accomplishment, but to me it is an incredibly thrilling and unusual event. It's just too cold (for me) to swim in Seattle most of the time, but we went to this amazing heated saltwater pool--it's actually filtered water from Puget Sound--that looks out over Elliot Bay to the Olympic Mountains. It was so posh, yet it cost only $3.25 a head ($1 extra if you want to go down the bendy slide, which trust me, you do). Afterwards all of us had that happily exhausted feeling that you get after swimming, even if you have just been splashing around like dorks.

I usually have a lot of anxiety about summers in Seattle. I'm constantly wondering: Am I getting outside enough? Having enough fun? Storing up enough vitamin D?! I'm always terrified that it will suddenly be November and I'll have nothing to show for it. I've had nightmares about it, actually. But this year I feel like I'm doing okay, even though winter lasted until mid-June. I've done a lot of stuff.

So far I have:

1. Swum. (Okay, probably not a word. It should be though.)
2. Barbequed & entertained in the backyard.
3. Barbequed & been entertained in other people's backyards.
4. Played numerous games of cornhole. If you've never played, you're missing out.
5. "Camped." There were about 20 of us camped out behind our friends' cabin near Mt. Rainier. Not exactly wilderness, but there were tents involved.
6. Hiked.
7. Biked. I've biked to work a few times actually, and it's pretty fun.
8. Rented canoes and paddled around the arboretum.
9. Lazed around in the shade chit-chatting while kids splashed in the lake.
10. Lazed around on my own and other people's porches.

So that is a pretty good list. And I still have a backpacking trip in the Hoh Rainforest, a trip to my friend's cabin, and a trip to Mt. Rainier upcoming. And the cornhole grand tournament! Life is sweet.

Vomit, Then Pummel Them to Death

So, I have this giant box of notes from high school. You know, the ones you passed off between 2nd and 3rd period? I kept them all, and they are pretty awesome. I feel sorry for the kids today with their texting. Where will those texts be when they are old like me? Nowhere, is where. Plus, who would want them?

I went through my notes a few years ago and culled some (mostly the ones I wrote but never delivered--doing away with the evidence!), but I still have the cream of the crop. and I dug a few of them out of the basement the other day.

Many of these are love letters from my early romances. Here, for instance, is an excerpt from a note written to me by my first real boyfriend, Punk Rock Matt.*

"I really really like that new Jawbox video. The first time I saw it I didn't really care either way. But Now I can't get it out of my head.

Holy Cow I'm in art now and Chris Just gave me that Blindside record he ordered for me. I can't wait to give it a spin. I just walked to my locker and one of those f*ing** rent a cops told me not to wear my Melvins shirt tomorrow because of what it said across the back. So then I told her that I didn't know about her but I don't wear the same shirt 2 days in a row. She told me she didn't need the sarcasm or she would write me up. Stupid f*ing b*tch!"

Aww.

Here's one from Dave, my next boyfriend:

"I'm in French. The entire class should be destroyed. Not really, some can live. The problem is here---> [Dave includes a diagram of the classroom desks, with a circle around the problem area]. An atomic bomb should be dropped on these fools.

I wonder what I would do if someone asked to sign my yearbook. I'd probably vomit, then pummel them to death."

Ah, romance.



*He still goes by this moniker, and is as punk rock as ever, by the way.
**Why am I all coy about the swearing all of a sudden? I have no idea.

The Smocking Conspiracy

The Big Day Off was excellent. I accomplished most of the items on my list, except getting a pedicure. Sorry, feets.

I got up, wrote a few thank-you notes (nope, still not finished) and then rode my bike downtown. Riding downtown from our house isn't exactly the Tour de France, but it's over six miles. That's pretty good, right? Right? I'm going to try riding to work tomorrow and see how it goes.

Anyway, I got my massage (mmmmmm), and tried to shop for a dress to wear to my brother's wedding. I've looked EVERYWHERE, and at this point I am kind of at a loss. I think my only problem with this year's fashions is that they are FREAKING HIDEOUS. And the stuff that isn't hideous? Is just not flattering.

Whither all these babydoll dresses, designers? I'm not knocked up! Can't I just get a waistline somewhere in the remote vicinity of my actual waist? The worst trend right now is that dress where the waistline is at the collarbone. What IS that? Who looks good in one of those? Even the Anthropologie models look deeply bummed about what they are forced to wear these days.

I also can't help but notice that there is a lot of smocking on the market right now. Has our youth-obsessed culture really gone so far as to convince us to dress up like chubby 8-month-old babies? I am a grown ass lady and I'd like a grown up dress, please.

Thanks.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, so I didn't buy a dress. But I did meet up with Mr. Awesome when he got off work, and we went to a restaurant where a friend of ours tends bar and he gave us free stuff. Then dinner with our friends A & P, and the SALON OF SHAME!

The SOS was pretty funny, but also full of pathos. As someone who works with teens every day, it was a poignant reminder of how life-or-death everything seems at that age. We wonder why the kids are moody, but it's just because the universe is always either ending or magically aligning for the good.

I did find some old high school notes of mine, and I'll transcribe one for your enjoyment in the very near future.

Big Day Off

I have the day off tomorrow because I worked this past weekend.* And I have BIG PLANS!

1. Write Thank-You Notes.
I really need to finish these freaking notes. I'm actually enjoying writing them, since I truly am very, very grateful to everyone. So it's not like I have to go to the effort of making stuff up.

But it's time to kick this thing in the pants. I'm beginning to get emails from my mom's cousins that say things like, "I hope you don't think I'm 'tacky' because I just got you a 'gift card' instead of a 'real gift.'"**

2. Pedicure.
Awww yeeeah. I almost never get one of these, partly because they cost money, partly because you have to have the forethought to make an appointment, and partly because I have this deep, dark guilt about forcing anyone to deal with my feet. (They're not especially freakish or anything. But still. They're feet.)

3. Massage
Awww yeeeah, part deux. I have had a crick in my neck for over a week now and it's making me an unpleasant person to be around. (Hence, maybe, that last cranky post.)

4. Salon of SHAME!
Heck yes! I love a good, healthy dose of shame--it's my Catholic upbringing. I still have a giant garbage bag full of notes from high school, and I'm going to bring some to share with my friends (if not the crowd at large).

If you are very, very good, maybe I will scan or transcribe some of them for you.


*Yes, the 4th of July weekend. Don't feel too bad for me though, because a.) it was kind of overcast, b.) I still had the 4th off and got to go to a party where 13-year-old boys blew up hotdogs with firecrackers, and c.) I get over a month of vacation a year, plus holidays and sick time. So I'm doing okay.

**Direct quote.

It's Not Hot You Big Babies

The weather is sooooo beautiful in Seattle right now. It's just perfect--sunny with highs in the upper 70's or lower 80's. The mountains are all out showing off, and the lakes and bay are glittery blue, and there is just no place prettier in the world right now. For reals. I'm getting a little misty-eyed right now just typing about it.

But does that stop Seattlites* from complaining about the weather? No it does not! We enjoy complaining about the weather, and we perservere no matter what the conditions! "It's too hot," all the patrons in the library say to me. "I just walked two whole blocks and I almost sweated! It's seventy degrees in the shade!! How can we LIVE LIKE THIS?!"

Seattle, can I just tell you one thing? 76 degrees is not hot. I mean, it's not even close. I'm from Alabama. I'll show you hot.

To be fair, I know that I am a wimp about the cold. I complain about it all winter, which is not only annoying but also deadly boring to anyone forced to be around me. To me, 39 degrees and raining is pretty bloody cold. Hardier people are always saying things to me like, "This isn't cold! Why, when I was a child in Minnesota/Alaska/Siberia, we would go outside in our underwear when it was 20 degrees below zero and roll around in the snow and then take a quick dip in the frozen river until several of our appendages fell off! And we FUCKING LOVED IT! This is like a lovely spring day to me and my GoreTex hide!"

And you know, those people are right. I wouldn't enjoy that.

But grant me this at least: 76 degrees is a pleasant temperature to most people who are not insane, isn't it? I mean, we northern North Americans spend a buzillion dollars every February to go to Mexico and Hawaii, so SOMEBODY must think 76 degrees and sunny is a tolerable situation. Right?


*Not ALL Seattlites. Many Seattlites--probably even most--do have the good sense they were born with. The complainers are just a very vocal minority.

(The Dreaded) Wedding II Post

PART ONE: AN EXPLANATION

Okay, I know you've all been waiting with bated breath to hear more about my wedding day. (I don't really think that. I just like to take every opportunity to use obsolete verb constructions).

But I have had a devil of a time getting started on a more substantial wedding post. Part of the problem is that in my mind I had built this post into The Big One About My Wedding, My Marriage So Far, and What It All Means. Which obviously is stupid, but there you have it. And I just didn't want to write a post like that.

Did you ever read any Douglas Adams? That guy who wrote The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy? In high school I was way, way into him. For the less dorky amongst us, I will explain: In one of his books, he has this theory of flying. Basically the trick about flying is to jump off of something really high and not think about the ground. Obviously this is no mean feat, since the ground is pretty much demanding your attention. The only way to not meet up with the ground in a very uncomfortable way is to be distracted by something at the very last second. I think in the books that something was usually like, an alien flashing you with its bizarre genitalia or something. Then, distracted from concern about your proximity to the ground, you would just sort of fail to smash into it, and instead float magically up into the air.

What does this have to do with my wedding/marriage, you ask? GOOD QUESTION. I guess what I am getting at is that I am still a little bit surprised to find that I have floated into this sweet-ass relationship. (I know. Try not to vomit.) And I don't really want to look at the mechanics of things too much, not because the situation is fragile, but because some things are not for the cold, hard tubings of the Interwebs. You know?

But that doesn't mean I can't say a little more about my wedding day.

PART TWO: THE DAY

Remember how I sort of had this lifelong fear about walking down the aisle? (And in fact, as it turned out it wasn't even an aisle; it was a big old bendy staircase that I was navigating in heels and that wicked long dress. So many ways to hurt/embarrass myself!) The idea of all of those people turning around and looking at me all at once gave me the willies, and I was sure I would trip or get the shakes or something. But my dad and I made it down okay, and in fact it was sort of good because once that scary part was over the rest of the ceremony seemed like a total breeze. I wasn't nervous at all, I just grinned right through it.

Anyway, afterwards my dad said to me, "You were actually nervous before we got going. I've never known you to be nervous before!"

Now, this totally blew my mind because I consider myself a pretty nervous person. Or if not nervous exactly, then anxious. And my first thought was, geez, my dad clearly doesn't know me at all. He's obviously thinking of the laid back 5-year-old I once was.

But as I thought about it later I thought, maybe I'M the one with an outdated perspective here. I thought I was going to be all nervous and crazy during my wedding, but I wasn't. So maybe I'm not all nervous and crazy after all. Food for thought, anyway.

Before the wedding I also wasn't sure the ceremony would be very meaningful to me. Does that sound cold? What I mean is, I felt like Mr. Awesome and I had been sliding peacefully into marriage for quite some time, and I was unconvinced that some words spoken over a 5-minute interval were going to feel like The Moment when everything snapped into place. And truthfully, that isn't what happened.

But Mr. Awesome's brother performed the ceremony perfectly, and his dad and sister sang a beautiful duet and made everyone cry. There had been some concern that Mr. Awesome Sr. wouldn't make it to the wedding because of health issues, and he ALWAYS sings at Awesome family weddings. So having him sing for us was even more special. Even my (sometimes jerky) brother read the passage we had asked him to read as if he had read it before. And it was just really nice to look out into the crowd and see so many people who love us all together.

Also, that moment at the end of the ceremony, when everyone you know applauds for you? That rules. Everyone should get to have a moment like that at least once in their lives.

You know what else is pretty cool? The toasts. Seriously, a steady stream of people standing up to talk about how great you are does not suck.

PART THREE: IN WHICH YOU ARE REWARDED FOR YOUR PATIENCE WITH A PHOTOGRAPH OR TWO

People told me that my wedding would all be a crazy blur that I'd barely remember, and this is already true. I do remember thinking several times during the proceedings that those people were nuts, and that I would certainly remember every single conversation, dance move, and gleeful toddler squeal. Instead, I have kind of a mental montage of love, set to the tune of "Bust a Move."*



Break it down for me, fellas.

*Just in case you were wondering, that wasn't the song we chose for our first dance. We went with "Center of Gravity," by Yo La Tengo. "Bust a Move" probably would have been more memorable for our guests, though, I must admit.

The Grad Schoolyard Diarrhea Song

Mr. Awesome has the McSweeney's Joke Book of Book Jokes checked out from the library right now, which contains "The Grad Schoolyard Diarrhea Song." He read me the first verse out loud:

When you're analyzing Joyce
And your butthole has no choice
Diarrhea!
Diarrhea!

I laughed at that so hard I cried. I see McSweeney's has also been kind enough to put the whole thing online so you can sing it at home.


p.s. I know, I know! More wedding, less buttholes. I'll get to that post soon, I promise.

Wedding, Part I

Okay, there have been requests for wedding stories. Why have I not shared any wedding stories? I don't know. For one thing, I don't want to go all mushy on you. But even more than that, everything went so swimmingly that there were no hilarious/horrible tales of the florist not showing up, or Uncle Phillip collapsing drunkenly into the cake. (Or the tower of doughnuts, as the case may be).



It was just fun. At least for me.


I'll tell you my secret of wedding success: my friends did everything. EVERYTHING. I did nothing. Of course, the wedding coordinator helped a lot. Ha! Just kidding. No wedding coordinator.

Actually, can I just take a moment to talk about how redonkalus it is that wedding planners even exist? I mean yes, planning a wedding can be stressful--even a redneck, doughnut-invested hoedown such as ours. But still. Wedding planners are not the answer.

Case in point: There is a wedding planner working on my brother's wedding (taking place late this summer at the Montgomery Country Club). That wedding will involve eight specially-created topiaries, several ice sculptures, and full floral service for the rehearsal dinner. And that's just the tip of the iceberg, baby! It's an extravaganza of extravagance! Don't worry, I'll take pictures. I just count my blessings that I managed to avert being a bridesmaid.

But anyway! Back to me! I had placed an order for flowers from a farmer at Pike Place Market (total cost for 20+ bouquets, about $300), and my friends A and P picked them up at the crack of dawn on the day of the wedding. Tulips were still in season, so that's what we got.


The set-up crew (12 of our friends + my parents) spent an hour or so arranging them and putting them in the vases I'd thrifted for a quarter apiece. It wasn't too fancy, but I thought the end result looked nice enough.

We didn't want to do too much anyway because we liked the place where we got married. It's a Native American cultural center that sits on a bluff overlooking Puget Sound. This is the inside.

This is the view.

Can you picture the magics? Good! Keep on picturing them and I'll be back soon with a thrilling play-by-play of How It All Went Down.

Advice for Criminals

Those who know me best know that I can be sort of, well--not exactly slow, but, you know . . . special. Like, I usually can't locate at least one of the following: keys, work ID, wallet, sunglasses, drivers license, or phone. And I regularly walk into a room and forget why I'm there. And sometimes conversations fade from my mind the second they are over.

But I've been worse than usual lately. I think the two days of unaccustomed warmth and sunshine earlier this week boiled my brain.

Monday was the first day of nice weather, and since I was working the evening shift, I had the genius idea to sit out on the porch and enjoy my morning coffee and newspaper in the sunshine. And it was all very nice and relaxing and wonderful--until I tried to get back inside the house. And realized that I'd locked myself out. Barefoot. In my pajamas.

Now, I wasn't indecent or anything--I had on a hoodie and t-shirt and pajama pants. Still, there is something kind of undignified about standing around stupidly in the yard wearing bright floral paperweight pants, tugging pointlessly on the front door.

After about 45 minutes of wandering around the house climbing on things, banging on other things, and pushing on still other things, I did finally find a way inside that did minimal damage to our home. I won't share my incredible McGyver-type solution with you, lest you be a burglar casing my joint. (Just know, criminals, that my house is now 100% secure, and also we have two ravenous attack cats. With rabies.)

If you are thinking of beginning a brand new career in burglary, allow me to recommend floral-print pants as your preferred attire. According to my scientific research, they make you approximately 437 times more invisible than camouflage, a cat suit, or ordinary street clothes. Probably fifty people walked by while I was desperately trying to break into my own home and not a single one of them so much as glanced in my direction.

**

**


Incidentally, I must direct you to the Pop Culture One, who is currently featuring a heart-warming story of shoe worship that took place at my wedding.

Small Fried Fish

First of all, many many thanks to everyone who sent their well wishes and good vibes to Mr. Awesome and me over the interwebs. I will get around to thanking everyone individually, but in the meantime just know that it means a lot.

I'm pretty behind on my blog reading. (Frankly, I'm a little bit despairing that I will ever catch up over at Go Fug Yourself. There were simply too many fashion travesties while I was away, and I am haunted by the fear that deep in the May archives is the Most Hilarious Fashion Mistake Ever. ) But anyway, I was catching up with Myra-Lee the other day and her recent post about The Amazing Race really got me thinking.

What I've been thinking is, it's now or never for Mr. Awesome and me on the Amazing Race. Don't you think? I mean, Newlywed Librarians? That is TELEVISION GOLD. We'd have to play it up, of course--go on and on about how our incredible research skills would give us the competitive edge over the competition. We've got lots of cardigan sweaters covered in cat hair, we're nerds in just about every imaginable way. We're all set to be stereotyped in a competitive television reality show!

The only problem is, I don't wear glasses. I'd have to get some fake ones, for sure. And could we take Myra-Lee and her sister? That I don't know. I am pretty sure that America would fall in love with Mr. Awesome, and feel sorry him that he is stuck with my dead weight.

**
**

On the other hand, maybe we would do better on Fear Factor.

During our trip, we discovered that you can get two kinds of food in Croatia: 1.) Italian food that's not nearly as good as the Italian food in Italy, and 2.) seafood bordering on the "what IS that?". It was all fine--pizza was quite tasty, really, and so was the gelato--but it did get a little repetitive.

So when we walked past a restaurant one night and saw some patrons eating french fries, we got all excited. Delicious fried food! Hooray! Then when we saw "Small Fried Fish" on the menu, we thought we'd hit the jackpot. Fish and chips! Awesome!

Or, not quite:

As you can see, this dish was prepared by scooping some minnows out of the bait tank and scooping them directly into the fryer. I ate one and got so many scales in my teeth that I had to give it up.

Mr. Awesome? The vegetarian who only very recently started eating seafood? Ate about twenty of them, strictly out of guilt. Unfortunately, that wasn't enough for the waiter, who came back and said in perfect English, "You did not like these?"

"Oh no," said Mr. Awesome. "They were delicious. We just REALLY filled up on the bread."

wicked awesome cannibals

Today I talked about books with some very enthusiastic middle schoolers at a local private school. Sometimes visiting the private schools is like visiting Bizarro World: the 6th and 7th graders were so beside themselves with excitement at the prospect of reading books this summer that I was worried they would pee their little pants. It just made me love all of them to death, and also made me think about the fact that if I ever have a kid it will inevitably only be interested in sports.

The 8th graders were funny, though. They were willing to talk books, too, but they wanted me to be aware that they only read Very Serious Leet-trah-choor: Jane Austen (all the girls) and Cormac McCarthy (all the boys). But their analysis of these books was still endearingly middle schoolish. Here, for instance, was the commentary offered by one young man of McCarthy's The Road: "And then like, there are these cannibals! And they eat babies! It's wicked awesome!!"

And speaking of awesome, Mr. Awesome himself started a new job today. There are a lot of cool things about his new job, but most impressive to me is the panoramic view of Puget Sound he'll have from his reference desk. His old office was in a windowless basement. These things always matter, but in Seattle the amount of light you get each day is a serious freaking business. If I worked in a windowless office there is no way I could make it through the winter without heavy medication. And probably some "corrected"* coffee each morning.

Incidentally, I love the word "sound" to refer to a body of water. In conversation I probably refer to "The Sound" more often than necessary because I just think it has a nice ring to it. I'm not sure why. I also like "archipelago." I think they both sound like geographical features that should only exist inside children's fantasy books, and I still think it's neat that are real and very close by.

*The Italian term for "spiking with booze." The idea that coffee is all screwed up until you fix it with liquor cracks me up for some reason.

No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

• Getting married wasn’t so scary. It was pretty awesome.
• The honeymoon was also aces.
• Being back at work isn’t so bad.
• Pictures forthcoming.
• Obama! Obama! Obama!

T minus 10

There's a lot of stuff I need to be doing to tie up all the loose ends at work before my long vacation, but I don't really feel like doing any of it. Work is like, totally harshing my buzz right now.*

I've entered the period (e.g. T minus 10 days and counting) when people start asking me How I Am Doing. And the weird thing is, I'm actually doing great. I'm excited about the whole wedding thing. I do still get a shivery feeling all down my spine when I think about that room full of people turning around to stare at me as I walk down the aisle. That crap is scary! But otherwise I think I've adopted a healthy if-they-don't-like-it-they-can-lump-it attitude.**



*Not literally. Although last Christmas one of my coworkers gave me one of those airplane bottles of Baileys, and I still have it in my desk. In case of emergency.

**I say this with love. And also having spent a couple of months freaking out over whether my wedding was going to be too hard on the guests.

Baby librarians

I just spoke to a group of library school students, who were here at the library on a field trip. They were really interested in what I had to say because they don't often get the chance to talk to actual librarians.

I felt so sorry for them. They all looked so beat down and miserable, it made me remember how much I hated library school. Whatever sucks about being a librarian, it doesn't suck nearly as much as being in library school.

For one thing, most of what they teach you in library school is patently stupid. For example, book talking. Book talking is just what it sounds like: Talking to people (in this case, teenaged people) about books in an effort to convince them to read those books. It's true that this is something we teen librarians do all the time--in the library, at schools, wherever. The general gist of it usually is: "Look at this awesome book! And this one! And this one!"

But you know what we don't do? We don't put on a little one-person play about the book, involving costumes and/or sound effects. And do you know why we don't do that? Because any teenager worth his salt would EAT YOU ALIVE if you did that. You might as well walk into a classroom and say, "Hello kids, I am a giant asshat! Please begin to snicker at me now!"

And yet, the costume idea is the sort of thing they are just nuts about in library school. "So, I really liked the way you discussed this medieval fantasy about a king," the library school teacher will say, "but I think it really would have been better if you had been wearing a crown. And holding a scepter. And maybe if you had called for your fiddlers three!"

The soul-crushing thing is that these people, the teachers, they usually mean well. I don't think they actually have a vendetta against upcoming librarians or are trying to drive them out of the profession or anything. But they don't tend to visit actual libraries very often, and I'm convinced they've never met any teenagers.

Blarg

It snowed yesterday. It also rained, sleeted, hailed, and flarved,* but by the end of the day it had settled down into actual snowfall that was sticking. Not a huge snowstorm by, like, Minneapolis standards, but for Seattle it was significant. It's so late in the year now that it was snowing in broad daylight past 8:00 at night. I had spent the whole day at the garden store and planting stuff in the yard, all of which I'm sure is now dead.

Mr. Awesome was kind of excited for the snow--"Come on, it's cool! It's a freak occurence!" But I was not having it.

NO SIR. NO THANK YOU.

We might have to move to Detroit so I can get some sun.


*Okay, I made this up, but it's a needed vocabulary word. It means precipitation that you're not even sure what it is anymore, except that it sucks ass.

At the Reference Desk

Patron: I need the address for the House of White! And the Kennedy!

Me: Um. The White House? And President Kennedy?

Patron: Yes, President Kennedy at the House of White!

Me: Er. I don't think he lives there anymore.

Feats of skill

Everyone is fine (I have to say that before what comes next), but I spent today with my friend in the ER. She had an allergic reaction to some stuff called Quorn, a vegetarian health food product that masquerades as being made out of mushrooms but apparently is actually mold. Like penicillin. Don't ever say that this blog has never taught you anything! But anyway, they shot her up with benadryl and she is just fine.

I have spent long days in emergency rooms in both New Orleans and Seattle, and I'm here to tell you that the Seattle experience was far more pleasant except for one thing: poo on the toilet seat. I was struck by this because it was, well, gross, but also curious. I mean, I think we ladies have learned to accept the occasional peed-on toilet seat as an unpleasant fact of life, but--poo? It just seems like such a physical challenge!

grumble grumble

Oh my god. It is just. so. cold.

SO FRAKKING COLD!! Why? Why still so cold?

If the weather were a person I would stomp on its toe and give it a good pinch.

Okay, I probably wouldn't do either of those things. But I would give it a Very Serious Talking To. Cause this bizness suh-ucks.

Stripper Clown!

I know, I know--I promised you stripper clown, and got your hopes all up, and then I just went AWOL. And you were all, "Where the fuck is our stripper clown!? We have been robbed!" And I don't blame you.

So here goes.

My kind friends Annie and Lula* volunteered to throw a wedding shower for Mr. Awesome and me. It was a karaoke shower, actually--they rented the machine and everything--and it was fantastaic. But anyway, before the shower, Anie and I were talking about showers/bachelor/bachelorette parties, and their vast potential for being either boring or really, really creepy.

"Yeah, strippers are pretty creepy and stupid," said Annie. "The only thing creepier? Clowns!"

"For real. And the only thing creepier than clowns would be, like, some kind of stripper/clown combo."

Annie: "STRIPPER CLOWNS!!!"

And the idea of stripper clowns was born. For some reason, nothing is funnier to me than stripper clowns. I don't know why. Perhaps I am stunted in some way. Annie and I riffed on this idea for weeks:

"It would be great if the clown was like, a totally sad clown!"
"Yeah, with those giant pants and rainbow suspenders! And when the music starts, he removes one rainbow suspender . . . then the other rainbow suspender . . ."
"YES! All to the tune of 'Send in the Clowns'!!"

I talked about it to pretty much everyone I know. (Pop Culture Librarian asked if the clown would wear honkable pasties. HONKABLE PASTIES! That is comedy gold, people.) However, it never occured to me that Annie might actually hire a stripper clown for our shower.

So, guess what Annie hired for our shower?



Yup.





Sensitive readers may want to spare themselves the grand finale . . .








*Some names have been changed to protect the clown fetishists.

Sing* for book display on Level 3

"April is NATIONAL POETRY MONTH

. . . you've been warned."


*Uh, I meant SIGN. Although the idea of someone singing that in the library is also kind of amusing.

Guest Post in Pop Culture Land

Hey ya'll, I have a post in the works for you. And it's about STRIPPER CLOWNS! Are you excited or what?

In the meantime, here is a guest post that I did for the lovely and talented Pop Culture Librarian about teen librarianism. And stripper clowns!

Okay, not really. Stay tuned, though.

The Disentigration of the Plan

Remember the noble Plan? Not going so well. Mostly this is because I am a big fat crabby complainer, but there are a few external reasons as well.


Such as:

1. The weather.
Remember when I made that list of Most Suck Months, and I put March as #3? What a fool I was. March sucks THE MOST, by far. Sure, it stays light a little longer, but who can tell when it's pouring down rain? This month has been exactly like January, only windier. March can bite me. Screw you, March.

2. The patrons.
I get it, Public. This large, terrifyingly modern library is hard to navigate! The elevators take a long time! There's no bathroom on this floor! The escalator has weird art in it that you don't like!

But here is a tip for you: I did not design this library. Nobody asked for my opinion. If they had I would have put a bathroom on this floor, if not for your convenience then certainly for mine. So walk off in a huff if you must, but know that I TOO AM HOLDING MY PEE. And I hold it every day, so suck it.

Also, I KNOW that isn't a service dog. But at least you're not trying to pass off a "service rat," so I guess I should count my blessings.

3. Actually, that's about it.
I've been trying to come up with a number 3, but the only other stuff that is making me act like an asshole is wedding stuff, and who wants to hear about the rental price of napkins? Nobody, that's who.


On the bright side:

1. I keep getting emails from Obama with the subject line: "Dinner Invitation."
He's so into me!!! I should probably get a new outfit and maybe some eyeshadow. Wheee!

2. I finally found some shoes that seem comfy enough to walk in all day in Europe, yet also compatable with sundresses. They are somewhat ugly, yes, but they have patented negative heel technology, designed by a Danish yogi and guaranteed to improve your posture AND give you totally toned legs in 20 minutes or your money back!!!

3. I think this whole getting married thing is really a pretty good idea. I'm feeling good about it.

So there you have it, more positives than negatives. A little listing always brings me round.

The New Plan

My new plan is to follow Lloyd Dobbler's advice: Decide to be in a good mood and just BE in one. I'll let you know how it goes. My co-worker has already weighed in: "You better shut the hell up with that happy singing crap. You're not gonna win any friends that way."

**
**

The cutest scavenger hunt of all time was in the library this morning: dozens of four-year-olds wearing matching red vests. They all had a page with pictures on it of the things they were suppossed to find. "I found a escalator! It goes up and down!"

Overheard in the Library

"I just found out that there's no way Bush and Cheney coulda dropped those bombs. Know why? Cause they were in Bible study. And it just ain't possible to be in more than one place at a time."

A musical quandry for my friend, the interwebs

Hey Internet! I have a question for you. Let's pretend that you are the kind of person who likes to dance at weddings (which, by the way, I sincerely hope you are). As such a person, what sort of music would you hope to be dancing to at said weddings?

Would it be:

A. Motown, baby! Give me some Stevie Wonder and I am sign, sealing, and delivering the finest dance moves you have ever seen.

B. Disco. I am all ABBA, all the time.

C. The terrible hip hop of my youth. I know what to do, chief: bust a move.

D. The obscure hipster music of today. I will feel cheated if anyone besides me can name the bands.

E. Something else, which I will hereby explain for you in elaborate detail!


Thank you for your assistance in this matter.

Meme of firsts

Straight-up stolen from Lass.

1. Who was your first prom date?

David F. And he was only a sophomore! The scandal!

2. Do you still talk to your first love?

No, but we are close personal Facebook friends. I know what his baby looks like.

And while we're on the subject: Does anyone else think it's weird the way that everyone in the Facebooks puts up profile pictures of their kids, instead of themselves? I mean, don't get me wrong, I really do want to see the cute baby pictures. And I'm sure if I ever have a kid I will do the exact same thing. But there is something about the identity erasing of it that gives me a little chill.

3. What was your first alcoholic drink?

First sip: Dad's beer, perhaps age 5.
First full drink: Champagne at family Christmas parties, sanctioned by the parents. Age 12?
Next full drinks: Stolen from the parents' liquor cabinet, mixed in questionable ways (for example: bourbon, vodka, and lemonade! yum!), and consumed with my friend Barb in a tree outside my house in the dead of night. Age 14.

4. What was your first job?

Being Chuck E. Cheese. In the mouse suit. Dancing. Yep.

5. What was your first car?

A 1992 Nissan Sentra. It was used, but I still can't believe they gave me a car that new. I'm now on car #2, a 1998 Nissan Sentra.

6. Who was the first person to text you today?

Wow, I read that as "speak to you," even though "text you" is nowhere close, which should tell you a lot about me and texting. I.e., it does't happen. I actually did get a text today, though, from AT&T Mobility. They changed my account password for me. Pretty exciting, no?

7. Who is the first person you thought of this morning?
Well, Mr. Awesome. He was right there. Unless you count Neko the cat, who was right on top of me and therefore first in my thoughts.

8. Who was your first grade teacher?
Mrs. Sims. She was scary. I don't remember her ever smiling.

9. Where did you go on your first ride on an airplane?
When I was about 3 weeks old, to my aunt's wedding. But I was 15 by the time of the first one I remember, from Montgomery, AL to JFK.

10. Who was your first best friend, and are you still friends with him/her?
Mary B., and sadly, no. I moved away after middle school, and I think we lived pretty different lives. I heard she got married right out of high school and is doing well.

On a happier note, I am still friends with Lula, who I've known since second grade and became best friends with--when? Seventh grade? She was more popular than me earlier on. Mary B. and I were still playing pretend games out in the woods while Lula and her crew had moved on to more adult pursuits, such as collecting Poochie stationery.

11. What was your first sport played?
When I was a kid, it was all soccer, all the time.

12. Where was your first sleepover?
I have no clue, but the ones I remember best were at Lula's house. Her mom let us watch terrifying movies such as The Lost Boys. It was good times.

13. Who was the first person you talked to today?
Still Mr. Awesome, although I did first tell Neko to get the hell off of me.

14. Whose wedding were you in the first time?
Um . . . I think Clare's wedding was first? Yes, Clare's wedding in Baltimore.

15. What was the first thing you did this morning?
Grumbled. I've had a cold on and off (mostly on) for nearly a month and it's starting to piss me off.

16. What was the first concert you ever went to?
I say different things to this question at different times, because I don't really remember. Maybe the Beach Boys, after a Birmingham Barons minor league baseball game? But probably one of the bluegrass festivals we went to with my dad. If that counts as a concert.

17. What was your first tattoo or piercing?
One time in high school, my parents saw a tattooed girl on the cover of my Sassy magazine. Or maybe she had an eyebrow piercing. Anyway, they told me that if I ever got tattooed or pierced anywhere except my ears, they were going to drain my college fund on cocaine, booze and whores. (Okay, if you're going to be a stickler for the facts, they just said they wouldn't pay for college. I'm trying to keep things interesting for you, is all.)

So I didn't get tattooed. Even after the college thing was a moot point, I never felt confident enough about any one tattoo design to be able to commit to it. And now, being an old person, I probably will never get one. As a minor act of rebellion in my sophomore year of high school, I did pierce a total of about 13 holes in my ears. I've since let them all grow back except for the original two.

18. What was the first foreign country you went to?
The UK.

19. What was your first run-in with the law?
I try to stay clear of the po-po. But here is a po-po story for you: One time, during a bachelorette party here in sunny Seattle, about 15 of us girls crammed into some guy's convertible on our way to the next bar. The guy got pulled over, and it turned out he had a breathalizer thingy in his car, and also he was driving without a license, and, well, it probably wasn't the best idea for him to be cramming all of those girls into his car, seatbelt-free.

My friend Tara and I ended up in the back of the cop car, and the cop told us his sad life story about how he didn't really want to be a cop, and he hoped his kids could aspire to something better, and he got married too young. Then he dropped us off at the next bar, and we went on our merry way.

20. When was your first detention?
I was always in detention in high school, mostly for tardiness. My carpool was the problem more often than I was (she HAD to stop at Burger King for a croissanwich or there was hell to pay), but I wasn't in any great rush to get to school either. Thus, detention.

21. What was the first state you lived in?
Alabama. Just those first 18 years.

22. Who was the first person to break your heart?
Chris U., grade 6, when he told me that he had been "just kidding" when he asked me to go with him. "JUST KIDDING"?! What the hell is that?

To this day, I am outraged at the injustice of it.

23. Who was your first roommate?
My first college roommate was a very nice African American girl who left our mostly white college after just a couple of months. Hard to blame her. I wonder what happened to her.

My next roommate was a Kappa Delta named Corinne, who I loved. She made door decs (that's short for "decoration," for anyone not initiated into the slang of the Greek system) for me and my friends that had the Greek letters "GDI" on them ("God Damn Independent"). She was awesome. Corinne, call me!

24. Where did you go on your first limo ride?
I think to a Mardi Gras ball. I've been in a limo like twice, both times in New Orleans.

After seeing a clip on Access Hollywood in which Steve Gutenberg dedicated his Dancing with the Stars performance to his parents

Mr. Awesome to me: If we ever have a kid, and that kid grows up--I don't care how good he was in Police Academy--if he dedicates his performance on Dancing with the Stars to us? That kid is dead to me.

Yup, definitely still living in Seattle

So this morning, I was walking past a construction site near Pike Place Market. A bunch of construction dudes were hanging out, looking bored. And one of them looked at me. And he said, "That is a very pretty dress!"

And I said, "Thank you!"

And that was the end of that.

Spring

I'm calling it, you guys. Today, February 28th, at 2:51 p.m., I do hereby declare that winter is over and it is SPRING.

Because of the weather, you ask? Nope, not really, although Seattle has been unseasonbly sunny and mild (for February) for most of the past couple of weeks.

But the declaration is not really about that. I'm just done with winter in general and my big black heavy winter coat in particular. (It's missing a button and I haven't been in the mood to sew it back on.) However, if you insist on evidence of spring's actual arrival, I present to you the following two science facts: 1.) the bulbs are coming up in our yard and 2.) there are a lot more chirpy birds around.

So. Carry on. Enjoy your spring.

Even better than a leg lamp

Sorry about that last post, you guys. Honestly, I'm usually fine, but I've had a cold the last couple of weeks and it hasn't helped my outlook. Really, what am I complaining about? I am getting married to a 100% awesome person.* Lots of people care enough about me to shlep all the way out to Washington state to witness this event. Boo hoo! Poor me!

Anyway. The super awesome Lass has awarded this blog with this prize:



Which I don't deserve; certainly not for any recent efforts. However! I am honored by the E and will strive to be worthy of it.

As I understand it, the deal with the E is that it is to be passed on to some worthy blogs. I suggest that you look to the Army of Awesome, to the right there. I promise that they all contain really good writing and/or adorable baby photos. But here, in no particular order whatsoever, are a few highlights from the Army.

1.Kaymess
Kayemess' blog has always been interesting--honest, articulate observations of every day life. Now that she's got a brand new adorable baby, it's especially fascinating (at least to me), because Kayemess gives it to you straight. No bullshit here about every single second being a miracle. Also, I know her and can vouch that she is even awesomer in person.

2.Lass
The Lass is also bullshit-free, and provides me with my required daily dose of snark. Also, she lives in Austin, where it has been really hot lately. I almost feel warm just reading about it.

3.Myra-Lee
Myra-Lee is funny and pithy and awesome, and I got to meet her and her charming husband one time when I went to L.A., and it was good times.

4. Pop Culture Librarian
As her legions of fans are well aware, the Pop Culture Librarian delivers the goods, pop culture and otherwise. Right now at PCL headquarters, the fascinating and hilarious story of the first meeting between PCL and her partner, Nordic Boy, is in full swing. Highly recommended.

5. Librarisaurus Rex
Librarisaurus Rex is the kind of person who goes to other countries and takes pictures of signs related to dog poo. 'Nuff said.


Edited to add: Do you, dear reader, have a blog? If so, I would love to read it and to add you to the Army. Please leave me a comment in the commentery and I will enlist you.




*Have you seen that movie King of Kong? We watched it last night (and I cried like a baby over it, but that's not the point), and now I'm thinking of nicknaming R "Mr. Awesome" for the purposes of this blog.