multi-story rambler

Random Public Library Moment (what? I have a blog? Oh yeah.)

2010-02-06T13:16:00.000-08:00

I knew it had been a while since I'd posted here, but over a year? Zoiks. Greetings to the 2 people still out there paying any attention.

Two young men and their grandfather came up to the reference desk on a busy Saturday afternoon looking for car repair manuals. First I got the make and model, then I asked what system they were working on. One of the guys lifted his hand above the edge of the desk-- he was holding the (somewhat oily) master cylinder. In unison they all said, “The brakes.” I printed out what information I could find from a repair database. When I asked if that was enough, the grandpa said, “I hope so—but if not, we’ll come back with the other part.”

They didn't return that day. I hope that means that my information helped, and not that they gave up on their '96 Buick Regal. I was half-hoping they would be back with a series of parts to research, laying them out in exploded-view on the terrazzo floor in front of the reference desk.

way to break typecasting

2009-01-24T13:12:00.000-08:00

Overheard in the puppet castle:

PRINCE (played by a large hen): Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!

RAPUNZEL (played by Piglet): Okay!

RAPUNZEL lowers herself ears-first out the window to the waiting Prince. Prince latches on to an ear with his beak, and RAPUNZEL pulls him up into the castle.

Also observed: a toddler force-feeding a tarantula to a pterydactyl. Yum!

encounters with Jesus

2008-10-02T16:10:00.000-07:00

I met Jesus today. He's about 3 feet tall, and I caught him climbing on the dragon in my library. To be fair, the dragon looks like a fancy playground piece, even though he was designed to hold and display books. Later his mom called him back from lapping the children's area, then from splashing out a complicated Morse code message using the drinking fountain. He just left, run/walking at a good clip down the aisle, elbows pumping energetically.

Yes, Jesus is an Hispanic three-year-old.

But how different was the real three-year-old Jesus? Traditionally he's painted as a serene, wise-beyond-his-years child, but that's later in childhood. I don't assume to know how God Made Man behaved through his Terrible Twos and Threes, but I'd like to think that he had some of the energy and high spirits of today's little Our Savior of the Dragon's Back.

And with millenia of Christianity all over the Western world, why is it that only Spanish-speaking countries name their children Jesus with any regularity? I'm sure it says something deep about cultural differences, but I can't devote the brain power to it tonight.

Random Public Library Moment

2008-08-27T23:27:00.000-07:00

I've been on a little self-inflicted computer break this month, and rather than catch you up, gentle reader, with photos and tales from my lovely backpacking trip along the North Shore, I will go the lazy route: Cheap Laughs!

When learning a language, cognates are a beautiful thing. Even if I didn't study for that junior high German quiz, I could guess what an Autobus was and what Hans was supposed to do with it. Beware, however, of the false cognate. A classic example is the Spanish word embarazadas, which sure sounds a lot like "embarrassed," but actually means "pregnant."

False cognates can also mislead you if you're browsing through the Russian children's DVDs at the library. If you for some reason read the back of this box first, you would know that it's the story of a good Communist boy's magical adventures on a flying carpet, circa 1956. Read the title first, and you might have different expectations. I know did, although I must say my first reading of the title didn't quite jive with the prominence of the leering, bearded genie.

well, I tried.

2008-08-03T21:29:00.000-07:00

Some things are better than you remembered them as a child, like mustard. Or beer, not that I had extensive experience.

Some things are worse, like Nancy Drew books. Seriously, have you gone back and read any childhood favorites lately? It's a risky business. But that's another topic.

And some things are about the same. My biggest food hatred as a child was beets. I would sit at the table for hours, all alone in front of a fast-cooling plate of beets, rather than eat those accursed things. Hating beets is actually one of my earliest memories; I remember sitting at the table of a house we left when I was three, trying to work up the mental and gastronomic strength to take a few beet bites. Now I'm an adult, and I sometimes choose to eat various things I used to avoid: broccoli, for example. So when my CSA farm sent some beets this week, after the initial shudder I thought, sure, why not? I've hated and avoided beets for so long, maybe something has changed in the last 28 years or so. So on my sister's advice, I sauteed them in olive oil, salt and pepper along with some other fresh CSA goodies. And I ate them.

Verdict? Blech. Yuck yuck yuck. I declare my intense dislike of beets officially a lifelong trait. Sure, it's fun to pee magenta, but for me the thrill is not worth it.

chalk up

2008-08-01T21:14:00.000-07:00

Friday afternoon I joined a few workmates from REI and went climbing near Taylor's Falls at Interstate State Park. I used to think that the name looked out of place on the state park map, too much like infrastructure and pavement. But once I visited, I realized it's not interstate as in highway, it's interstate as in between states, since the park is on both sides of the St. Croix River. We were climbing on the Wisconsin side, for those in the know.

Hello, Minnesota!

At last, climbing on actual rocks! I've been gym climbing in the past, but not lately, and never in nature that I can remember. It was incredibly fun, not to mention satisfying when I hit the top. I'm afraid my new climbing shoes may gradually be followed by my own harness and other spendy gear. Major props to Jeff and Amanda for being such good climbers, teachers and belayers.

Shiny, happy climbers on a rock

Random Public Library Moment

2008-07-22T19:25:00.000-07:00

I wish I had a camera handy for this one. But I didn't, so description will have to do.

We've got a bulletin board in the children's area of my library that we use for a kind of question of the month that kids can answer and post. For example, in April the bulletin board looked like a baseball field, and kids wrote their favorite position on a baseball. This month we have big, tall multi-scoop ice cream cones, each paper scoop bearing a favorite ice cream flavor.

As I was posting a few new entries, I noticed a smartass scoop that someone had snuck in. Their favorite ice cream flavor? "My Boobies".

See, that just doesn't make any sense. They should take a lesson in public smartassing from the person who added another one a few days later: "Bootilicious". At least that one is uses a hip-hop influenced reworking of flavor nomenclature. What that flavor would mean for Baskin Robbins, I shudder to think.

Yes, I'll eat them in a park! Yes, I'll eat them close to dark!

2008-07-20T00:27:00.001-07:00

My wandering gypsy friend Dawn is in town, and Friday we made plans for the evening. After a nice walk outside, we thought we'd try a random little Nigerian restaurant. Why? Well, why not, but also, Dawn is the undisputed Queen of the Happenings Book. And this little hole in the wall place was in the Good Book.

We arrived at around 7:45. It was an hour before the posted closing time, but we had to get takeout since the owner apparently had somewhere else to be. One menu item was Yams with fried egg, tomato, and onion.

Fried egg and yam?

Would I? Could I?
In a car?
Eat them! Eat them!
Here they are.

As a matter of principle as a children's librarian, that's what I ordered. Plus, yams sounded good. And as it turned out, we didn't need to eat them in the car; there was a park complete with picnic benches not far away.

When I opened up the container, I was surprised to find a certain lack of...orange.

I had no idea that large, white, and mostly tasteless was an option for yams, but there they were. So no, Sam-I-am, I do not like Nigerian yams that much, but the rest was good. Apparently the local squirrel population isn't really down with big white yams either. A little beggar was loitering, so I threw him a small chunk. I had never before in my life seen a squirrel forcibly spit out food and run away. I'm serious. I think his bushy little tail was even flicking at me in disgust.

The bottled beverage you see is called Malta India, which our all-too-brief hostess described as "kind of like root beer." Yeah, not so much. If there's such a thing as malted molasses, we have now tasted it. Not horrible, but....hmm. Kind of what I imagine third-world sarsaparilla would taste like.

Our next stop, and really the goal for the evening, was a random little independent film festival, but by the time we got there the watching short films part was over, and a Q&A with the filmmakers just isn't quite as interesting when you have no idea what they're talking about. But on the upside, I did get to meet my favorite boozing robot in the entryway, so the trip wasn't wasted.

Pea pickin' and Canon crunchin'

2008-07-19T16:38:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, Katie and the girls and I went up north of Alexandria to get out of town, to take the girls on their first overnight in a tent, and for the pea picking weekend at Ploughshare, our CSA farm. We had a great time picking oodles of delicious peas and sharing a pot luck lunch with other members, but then it started to rain. And rain, and rain, and rain. We decided to scrap the camping with one infant and one toddler with a cold and check into a hotel in Alexandria instead. I don't know if I've mentioned this here, but two-year-old Lucy has a steel-trap memory that puts the rest of the family to shame. About two thirds of the way back to Alex, she once again proved her superior recall: "Leesha's camera?" *gasp* Oh no! I think I left my camera on the roof of the car when I was buckling her in! Sure enough, it was nowhere to be found in the interior.

The next morning, we headed back to the farm for one last attempt to find it before heading back to the Cities. Neither we nor the quartet of blonde, tanned little farm brothers on bikes had any luck. Just as we were giving up and heading out, Katie spotted something on the turnoff to the "main" road.

Yes, she had found my camera. Most of it, anyway, spread along the side of a 50-foot stretch of country road. Alas, the memory card was not one of the pieces we found, so my cute pictures of pea pickin' were lost. And strangely enough, even my extended warranty did not cover encounters with the business side of multiple 4x4's. Obviously, I got a new one, because I've discovered that I really like having a camera handy. I won't say need, since that's a strong and overused word, but it's a priority. So Rest in Peace (Pieces) little Canon; you done right by me. I will try to remember the good times we had in Hawai'i, and not my final vision of you as road kill.

Big Island ending, abridged

2008-07-15T19:49:00.000-07:00

All right, that's it. When a friend emails and asks where my new blog is, and can she see it, since I obviously have abandoned this one (that last part was unwritten but rightly implied), it's really, really time to do something.

Where were we? Oh yes: a sunny Wednesday in late March. Here's the quick and emphatic version of the remainder of my unblogged trip.

Petroglyphs. Cool! Too bad the carver caught someone on the commode.

Walk like an ancient Hawai'ian! do, dododo, do do dodo do do, dododo, do

Local beer sampler!

Sunset from halfway up Mauna Kea!

Look out!

Thursday:

White sand!

Black sand!

Tikis!

Turtle!

Yoga cabin!

Yoga chickens!

Cool lava is cool!

Hot lava is even cooler!

Friday:

Volcanoes National Park in the rain!

Kilauea spewing!

Sulphur protection or incompetent Wild West double stick up? You decide.

Flowers in a caldera!

Big slothy fern fiddleheads!

Lava tube!

Entrance to bonus lava tube with no lights!

Really dark!

Friday:

Lava trees!

Lava tree worship?

Lava attacks!

Sea arch!

Saturday:

Natural sauna cave!

Easier in than out!

Nut tour!

Chocolate tour!

Final packing and leaving!

Well, that's it. Good times, good times.

At last I've wrapped this up. In my next installment: the recent demise of my camera on a lonely country road north of Alexandria.

Big Island, Big Fun, part III: Big Sky and Scrap Metal

2008-04-30T18:09:00.000-07:00

Let this be a lesson in biting off more traveblog than you can chew. My grand plans to fully document my trip to Hawai'i ended up being the big slimy hairball in the flow of my blogging pipes. Here's an example of my personal dialogue on any 5 days out of 7 since April:

Me: I need to update my blog.
Me: Yes, you do. And you need to finish your Hawai'i entries and make them thorough, well-illustrated and entertaining before you move on to something else.
Me: Hmm. That's a lot of work. Maybe I'll update it tomorrow.

And so it went for the last 9 weeks. You may notice a switch to La-Z-Bloggr mode today. But then the hairball will be gone and I can move on with my online life.

* * * * *

As the tea was drunk and the smoothie gradually lost the battle of viscosity vs. suction (see Part II), we cut across the island towards the northwest corner. The scenery along the saddle road gave me a whole new perspective on Hawaiian landscape. Sure, there are the parts with the palm trees and the sand and the big pretty flowers, and then there's the leeward side of the Big Island:

Looks like Montana, no? Complete with barbed wire and paniolos (Hawaiian cowboys; not pictured).

We were heading for a few historic sites on the northern coast. One was the birthplace of Kamehameha, the warrior leader dude who united the Hawaiian islands.

Birthplace wall- or perhaps a recreation of one. Not sure.

The other place just next to it was the Mo'okini Heiau, a sort of holy place that was the site of thousands of human sacrifices.

Corner of the heiau wall

Kind of an unholy holy place, if you ask me. The 10,000 people sacrificed here against their will might agree.

Contrast that place with another heiau we visited later in the week, this one a place of refuge where people running for their lives could find safety; kind of a Hawai'an "ollie ollie oxen free!"

Pu'uhona O Honaunau- wouldn't have to twist my arm to take refuge here.

No description of our trip, no matter how abbreviated, would be complete without including the roadside modern art, as David Wilcox would call it. As we bumped and jolted our way along a very rutted and rocky (BIG rock rocky) dirt road, we followed the coast toward the Kamehameha birthplace. There was no signage anywhere at this point, and we were kind of going on faith that we weren't just driving ourselves off the edge of the northwest corner of Big Island. Then as the line of the cliff curved in front of us, we saw the glint of glass or metal in the distance. Oh good! we thought, there are other visitors' cars there. We must be on the right track. Then we eventually came around that corner to be greeted by this sight:

Waa! Sort of freaked us out, actually, given the very isolated setting and after reading in the guidebook about all that historical death and violence at the heiau. But wait, there's more:

So much for fellow tourists. Had we stumbled upon the Great Hawai'ian Car Graveyard by mistake?
Those were the first abandoned cars we came across on the trip, but certainly not the last. I say "abandoned," but that's grossly understating it. As you can see, the laid-back Hawai'i aloha attitude does NOT extend to derelict cars.

Glass smashed, tires sometimes gone, body attacked, and in one case:

I'm no CSI professional, but we think those are axe holes in the hood.

But we thankfully did not encounter the vehicle-hating axe-wielder and both us and our rental car made it there and back without losing any car or body parts.

Then we camped at a park on a beach.

All right, I need one more day. Darn you, Hawai'ian hairball! I still have high hopes of wrapping this up by Friday. If I have any MSR visitors left after breaking the cardinal rule of Publish or Perish, I'll be back soon. Really.

Happy National Library Week!

2008-04-16T10:48:00.000-07:00

In honor of National Library Week, here's a trip through Hollywood's great library moments. Sexy!

http://www.ew.com/ew/gallery/0,,20190897,00.html

Big Island, Big Fun, part II: Hilo to Pepe'ekeo

2008-04-01T20:57:00.001-07:00

Since Mother Nature is currently proving that slush is a verb (as in, "it's so windy that it's slushing sideways out there"), it seems like the perfect time to get back to travelblogging my trip to Hawai'i. Picking up where I left off:

Day Two was Tuesday. Thankfully Dawn was feeling, if not 100%, at least 65 or 70%, which is still a passing grade, and being the tough little trooper she is, we headed to the airport and flew the puddle-jumper from O'ahu to the Big Island. We arrived in Hilo and discovered that because of some mix-up or other, we were getting a free upgrade from our economy rental car to an SUV. Great, we thought, more room for all our stuff. Plus now we can go on some of the roads listed in the guidebook as '4-wheel-drive only'. Yeah, more on that later.

We planned to camp two nights on the island, and we needed a stove. Dawn's guidebook- which, incidentally, was published in 1997 and was withdrawn from the Hennepin County Library for being too outdated for our standards- listed a rental place, and also an outdoor store. Maybe one of these fine establishments could rent us a stove! The rental place was nowhere to be found on the 2008 streets of Hilo, so we stopped in at the (relocated) Hilo Surplus. Here is a transcript of our illuminating exchange with the lady behind the counter:

Dawn: Excuse me, do you rent camp stoves?
Lady: No.

By the look on her face, you would think we asked her if they rent out trained monkeys to set up our tent for us. Moving on.

Down the street at the former location of Hilo Surplus, there still seemed to be a lot of surplus-looking equipment in the windows, and a guy on the sidewalk outside who seemed to belong with the place. We tried another approach with him.

Dawn: Excuse me, is there any place in town that rents stoves?
Guy: No, there's never been any place like that. There's a law against rentals on this island.

Ooookay then. No stove rental for us. But we did discover 6 papayas for a dollar at the Farmer's Market, so Hilo can't be all bad.

We set out along the scenic Onomea Drive, stopping occasionally for scenic...scenery:

Onomea Bay

...until we got to Akaka Falls.

Which direction are those Falls falling?

Oh yeah. Thanks.

We continued on up the coast a bit to Pepe'ekeo, stopping for a smoothie at the What's Shakin' Smoothie Shack, a place much touted by Sarah's guidebook (copyright 2007) as having the best smoothies around. We were not the only tourists to take this advice, and the little shack was blending along at a leisurely aloha pace, so one smoothie and an iced tea took about 45 minutes. It might have been, say, 38 minutes, but some guy named Gary took Sarah's smoothie. Man, you stand around waiting with people for most of an hour, you think you have a bond, you know? Maybe the beginnings of trust? And then they snag your smoothie as if it were theirs- which it wasn't, Gary, weren't you listening?- hop in their rental car with their wife and 1.7 children, and take off. But the smoothies were actually quite good, and the bathroom featured interesting poetry, and one of us (whose rear shall remain anonymous) discovered a new form of body art applied using wrought iron patio furniture.

Upper right corner: "This June I would have married / But an ocean stepped between / I hope no sultry so-and-so / Has landed my Marine!"

Talk about your sultry so-and-sos!

I'm out of time. Next time on Big Island, Big Fun: the conclusion of Tuesday, when we discover a disturbing Big Island tradition, and test our SUV's off-roading capabilities- on a road.

Big Island, Big Fun, part I: adjusting my contrast

2008-03-31T18:50:00.000-07:00

The day before I left for Hawai'i was Easter. Here was the view from my church's parking lot:

Big, fat flakes. Very pretty, but not very compatible with all the cute little Easter dress shoes.

I got home yesterday. This is what's happening in my driveway RIGHT NOW:

That's right, a plow. And that's all fresh snow, with the pile still growing. Out like a lion indeed.

Now for the good part. Here's me on Easter Monday:

HAHA!! Escape!

I flew Minneapolis to Honolulu by way of Portland. As we flew over my beloved Cascades, I experienced a moment when I just wanted to get off in Portland, rent a car, and visit old friends and favorite trails in and around Olympia for the week. I resisted the urge, but all you OlyWA and Centralia folks out there, know that you're missed.

I went to Hawai'i to visit and travel with my wonderful, wanderlustige friend Dawn, who is currently pursuing that elusive beast known as ethnomusicology at UH-Honolulu. Sadly, she came down with a nasty bug right before I arrived, so Sarah, her friend and the third member of our intrepid travel trio, picked me up from the airport. While Dawn recovered in solitude and general discomfort, I had another gracious tour guide. In a grad student department of about 8, wouldn't you know that one of them was a fellow Ole music major? Sarah McClimon (different Sarah) nicely drove me down to nearby Waikiki for a little sightseeing and catching up. This was by far the most touristy spot I visited the entire trip, but also very lovely, and good to see for the sake of comparison with the rest of my week.

It took me a solid day to adjust to vacation mode: no To Do lists, no deadlines, no politics. Just a couple of friends, guide books and a general idea of what we wanted to do. It may have taken an ocean, but it worked: I actually got far enough away from work that I didn't think about it all week, except as a distant sort of thing, out of place and easy to brush aside. Ahh, just what I needed.

That was basically Monday, day 1. With how much we crammed into each of our days, I'm taking this a day at a time. More to follow...

sometimes you wanna go where at least some people know your name

2008-03-22T23:12:00.000-07:00

I've been missing my old job a lot lately, for a variety of reasons I won't get into right now. But I moved back for family, and that hasn't changed. There's also something irreplaceable about living in the place you grew up. I'm not saying it's the best or only way to go, certainly. But I was at the chiropractor this week getting all straightened up and aligned, and when I mentioned that I had to wear one of those metal bars across my feet as a baby to correct my goose feet, my chiropractor said, "Oh yeah, I remember that." Old family friend. Nowhere else in the world would I get that response. There's something about people who have known you your entire life; they occupy a unique place in your personal universe. At least, they do in mine. They're not always my closest or best friends, but they know me in ways no one else can, in first-person historical ways. I've discovered that having contact with people like that, inside and outside of my family, is important to me.

what is this, a key party?

2008-03-15T19:36:00.000-07:00

Sheesh, I'm home sick for a few days, and the whole place goes wonky. The Powers That Be in my library system decided that managers in the system could do with some cross-training by switching to different libraries for a while. Sounds like a good idea to me; get some fresh ideas and perspectives stirring around. However, They have decided to switch out all three of our senior managers at once. Um, is that normal? I, for one, wouldn't relish the idea of being a new boss in a large building and having nothing but other new bosses to back me up. A few possible explanations occur to me:

TPTB didn't notice until the email went out, which was, of course, Too Late To Back Out.
TPTB are conducting an experiment in management. The security cameras have been retrained on staff areas instead of the public floor, and the footage will be streamed live as a reality show on Xtreme Managrz, the radical leadership website.
TPTB simply don't care what we think.

There are doubtless other options as well, but those three seem like the most likely to me at the mo.

top this, Martha Stewart

2008-03-14T13:29:00.000-07:00

As promised, the photo. In case you were wondering how you should set the table at your Beowulf party, here's one idea: a big shiny sword, a cake shaped like Grendel's arm, and lovely fruit and cheese plates.

And because it was tucked behind the photo, here's another piece of history:

I have no idea what's become of either of these college friends. So Ben or Dave, if you're out there, give a shout, wouldja?

can I be a violence prude instead?

2008-03-10T17:34:00.001-07:00

I'm currently watching the new Beowulf movie starring pixelated versions of Anthony Hopkins, Robin Wright Penn, Angelina Jolie, etc. There's a large amount of hacking, slashing, rending of limbs, drinking of blood, and other graphic violence befitting an Old English hero legend. But when our hero strips off his armor and fights Grendel in the nude, there always seems to be a knee, sword, shadow, or dismembered monster finger conveniently blocking the view of his nether regions. Kind of funny, actually.

when full-frontal was unavoidable, they found him a loincloth

Now, call me lacking in proper feminine sensitivity, but are penises really a fate worse than dismemberment to witness?

Don't answer that.

And don't get me started on how much of Angelina Jolie's pixelated bod they didn't hide in shadows, strangely enough. Streaks of gold body paint don't count.

Speaking of dismembered monster fingers, it reminds me of the Grendel's arm cake baked by some college friends for the reception after the premiere of their new composition, Beowulf: The Musical. Once I find a scanner, I'll show you. Some of you remember it fondly, I'm sure.

March LNO

2008-03-07T21:32:00.000-08:00

What happens when librarians get together down the pub and consume a few beers? Well, sometimes we do Mad Libs. Sexy Mad Libs. And since we're librarians, we use words like "turgid" and "merkin". Look that one up, if you dare.

fun with cataloging

2008-03-02T22:47:00.000-08:00

Like I've probably said before, catalogers are a strange breed. It takes a certain type of person to savor the challenge of categorizing the whole of human knowledge, one Library of Congress Subject Heading at a time. I think you need to be either completely humorless, or find a wry, twisted humor in nearly everything. Mostly I'm guessing it's the latter.

My latest discovery involves the graphic novel series Noble Causes, which features a very dysfunctional family of superheroes. First I was entertained to see that one of its headings is
Problem families -- Comic books, strips, etc. Often times catalogers will get specific to the point that the category is no longer helpful- after all, if every book has its own unique subject heading, what's the point? For example, Germany -- History -- Night of the Long Knives, 1934 -- Drama. I have no idea what the Night of the Long Knives was, but it doesn't surprise me that we only have one drama about it. But I digress. Just as I was about to scoff and add Noble Causes' Problem families -- Comic books, strips, etc. to the useless list, I noticed that my library actually has 17 items in that category. Huh. I guess lots of comic book authors/artists have been putting the 'fun' back in 'dysfunction' lately.

Then of course, there are categories in which less is more: Deviant behavior -- Handbooks, manuals, etc.

Just one entry there. And that's probably okay.

push the button, Frank*

2008-03-01T14:42:00.000-08:00

Today I received the fourth in a series of emails at work regarding duress alarm training. For the sake of elucidation, I have photographed the underside of my reference desk:

That whitish thing is the duress alarm. It is a recessed switch to help us avoid accidentally triggering it while trying to adjust the motorized desk (which happens anyway, but maybe not as often as it could). In the event of major unpleasantness, which we experienced last month, you put your finger in the hole and pull toward you, and county security, police, SWAT team, what have you, are notified that the library, and your desk in particular, is experiencing duress. An excellent feature to have in a public building. But honestly- how much training does it take? Mind you, this is not training for what to do in the unlikely event of a [fill in duress-inducing situation here]. This is training for the alarm itself. If I don't see the need for the training, does it mean that I don't need it, or that I don't realize how badly I need it? Would I enjoy the training as ironically good fun, or would I later mourn the loss of 30 precious minutes of my life? I may step up and do it just to find out.

*kudos to you if you got the reference. If not, educate yourself.

booksites a-plenty, booksites galore

2008-02-22T11:47:00.001-08:00

Oh dear, it has been a while, hasn't it? In my defense, I've been regularly blogging my books over at Book Barker, which maybe accounts for why things are so quiet around here.

To avoid the triple-posting I'm currently doing to get my reading list represented on all the sites I use, I'm considering consolidating and putting everything on Good Reads, now that they have a widget for here on MSR (see left margin), and an app for Facebook. I'll make an effort to get something more interesting posted here this weekend. Hey, maybe there'll be wild stories from our big off-site library staff party tonight. Woo-hoo! If that sentence made you laugh, you've obviously never partied with librarians before.

I Love Lucy

2008-02-04T16:12:00.000-08:00

A few things I love about my niece:

For several months now, her young toddler vocabulary has included "hummus" and "tortilla." Also two of her favorite foods. Chips are really just a vehicle by which to shovel massive quantities of hummus into her mouth. The soggy chip remnant is then put back in the hummus bowl for the next person's scooping convenience.
Sometimes when she says "puppy" to my dog, she mimics an adult's lower-voiced warning tone, as in, "puppy, no hummus for you." But when she does it, she sounds like Eddie Vedder, or some other loose-voweled rocker (read that carefully).
Ever since Christmastime, not a visit to my parents' house goes by without this exchange eventually taking place: Lucy: "Jesus?" Us: "Where is Jesus, Lu?" Lucy: "Box." The Fisher-Price Nativity set. It's not just for Christmas anymore, no matter how many times my mother tries to pack it away.

yuppies getting younger all the time

2008-01-30T14:49:00.000-08:00

fAs I was out in the library trenches this morning, looking after my beloved graphic novel section, I heard a particularly obnoxious phone ringer. It kept going and going, so I went to find the source and educate them in the ways of library cell phone rules. I stepped around a pillar and there was the culprit: a four-year-old with a Spongebob Squarepants play cell phone. I was prepared to give the phone spiel, or the noisy game/toy spiel, but somehow the combination of the two left me momentarily speechless. Once I recovered, I went with the Sesame Street-ified version of the cell phone policy. I felt pretty stupid, though. Even though the parents are the ones who should have felt stupid. I mean, really- who brings their child's noisiest possible toy to the library? At least she didn't give me some line about being in the middle of an important business call with Squidward.

talk about your frozen digits!

2008-01-29T19:36:00.001-08:00

It is currently 12 degrees below zero. That's without windchill, which makes it -37. Yes, Fahrenheit.

In other news, I was just elected to my church council this evening. I am honored, and not entirely sure what I've gotten myself into. I should have gotten a hint when not 10 minutes after the vote results were announced, someone asked me, "Alicia! You're on council. Explain this line of the budget." Yeah, they haven't uploaded me with that knowledge from the Collective yet. Maybe next week? But this is all a step of faith for me, and we'll see what God does with it.

how macabre

2008-01-17T20:36:00.000-08:00

I had a meeting today at a different library. On the way back to my car, I passed this curious sight:

That is a parking spot marked, "RESERVED: PATRONS WITH YOUNG CHILDREN". And that is a hurse. Darkly funny, don't you think? By the way, the driver came back as I was taking the picture, and she had no children with her. Parking Cheater! Using people's respect for and/or fear of the dead to park close to the door while you return overdue books? Shameful. Funny, but shameful.

the stories bookmarks could tell

2008-01-16T19:38:00.000-08:00

Today's RPLM needs no introduction or explanation. It's perfect all on its own.

brrrRRR!

2008-01-16T19:09:00.000-08:00

Here's a little tidbit of interest to you casual weather nerds like myself. The weather forecast for Minnesota predicts that this weekend, it will be colder here than in Siberia. When I was living in England, my fellow Hothorpe Hall team assistants who were from Europe asked how cold Minnesota got in the winter. It took me a minute to translate F into C, but when I did they were incredulous. "No! That is Siberia!" Oh, yes. And this weekend, it's extra true. Here's to wool and fleece!

paying for commercials

2008-01-10T00:35:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago now, I went to the British Television Advertising Awards screening at the Walker- a yearly favorite of mine. It's an hour of the best commercials Great Britain has to offer. Here's an example of one that caught my fancy- it's the mustaches, I think. That, and the creative use of sea life.

no blogging in a vacuum

2008-01-05T22:44:00.000-08:00

As it turns out, my blogs do not just show up on the internet for my friends and family and other people I have direct connections to. For one thing, who is my mystery reader in Las Vegas? Hello to you, whoever you are, but I have no clue who in Vegas would be interested in what I have to say.

I am woefully backlogged over at Book Barker, with dozens and dozens of books I've read but haven't posted yet. So the last couple reviews I did were fast and dirty, in the hopes that a half-assed review is better than nothing at all. I may rethink that approach. I wrote a very quick blurb about a book I couldn't get into. It was probably one of the most ho-hum reviews in the history of Book Barker; very little useful review information, and mostly just a plot summary and my one-sentence personal reaction to what is really a guy book, and a boxing book- both not me. And tonight I noticed the post had gotten a comment. Hey, that's cool, I don't get a lot of comments. I wonder who left it? Oh look, it's FROM THE AUTHOR. *sigh* And of course, when faced with an actual person who I'm sure put months of his life into this very decent book, all the positive things I thought about his book but didn't write because I was in a hurry floated up to haunt me. So the backlog will have to languish a little longer, because my New Year's resolution for Book Barker is that all future reviews, when I manage to actually post them, will not be half-assed. They will be fully assed. Or is that no-assed? Is more or less better in this situation? Whatever it may be, I've learned my lesson about the false anonymity of the internet, and the pitfalls of a very informal medium, and all that. Thus concludes today's youseetimmy.

At last, I've found her!

2008-01-03T20:36:00.000-08:00

Sorry I've been such a blogger-slacker. Call it my little holiday from, well, any extracurricular effort.

The closest town to my chiropractor's office is Navarre, halfway around Lake Minnetonka and so small that even most Twin Citians have never heard of it. They do have a Lund's grocery store, and on that Lund's there hangs a sign:

At last, my search for Minnesota's Best Bagger is at an end. I stopped in for some tea and to inquire after this legendary hero, the Mighty Bagger Brianne. Turns out this is quite the accomplishment. The finals happened at Mall of America, and now the winner goes on to the national competition in Vegas next month. It's tied in with the NGA Convention- you know, National Grocers Association? Bag well and do us proud, young Brianne.

Grr! Arg!

2007-12-24T11:16:00.000-08:00

That's 'Merry Christmas' in crazy Christmas monster language.

The funniest thing is, she wasn't even going for monster. To get her to smile for pictures, we say "show us your teeth," which gets varied results.

When librarians sing carols...

2007-12-18T21:25:00.000-08:00

...we sing 'em Old School. At Saturday's LNO Ho Ho Ho (Librarian's Night Out, a semi-regular social gathering of Twin Cities area librarians, this one a Christmas party), our awesome hostess not only had the good sense to own a baby grand piano, she had also checked out assorted Christmas music from the library's collection. One book included a variety of modern (read: '80's) Christmas favorites, including this one:

That's right, not only has George Lucas been unable to erase the Star Wars Christmas Special from our collective memory, there actually exists sheet music for "R2D2, We Wish You a Merry Christmas," released two years after the infamous Special. Truly a Christmas miracle! I've included someone's YouTube puppet music video at the bottom here in case you need to hear this thing- which you do. I think my favorite lyrics are from the second verse: "And if the snow's too deep / Just give a little peep / We'll gather 'round the fire / And warm your little wires." Read the interesting trivia near the bottom of the Wikipedia article linked above to learn who made their recording debut on this song. Considering the source, I double-checked the facts like a good little librarian, and it's true. Just goes to show, everyone has to start somewhere.

It's an Olive!

2007-12-16T18:56:00.001-08:00

We have baby!

Olive Allyne Fischer was born Saturday, December 15, at 11:10 a.m. She was born underwater- a little Fisch from the start. Being there for the home birth was truly an amazing and humbling experience.

In the movies when a woman goes into labor, the joke is always, "Somebody boil some water! Get warm towels!", even though none of the characters knows why. We had a birthing tub to keep warm, and some of the midwife's instruments needed to be sterilized, so I didn't blink an eye at all the water we were boiling. Then after Olive was born, they wanted to warm her up some more. Maureen, the midwife, asked me to put some clean towels in the dryer for a little while. I couldn't believe it- I was running for boiling water *and* warm towels! So now you know. It's not just a standing joke; it's home birth in action.

Mama, papa, baby, and big sister are all doing well. Various grandparents, aunts and uncles are happy and proud.

Babywatch 07

2007-12-13T23:09:00.000-08:00

The Ander-Fischer clan is currently on babywatch. It's now officially Olive's due date, and we're at T+1 hour in the countdown. Bags are packed and at the door, and aunts and grammies are ready to back up the mama for home birthing action. Stay tuned!

new ways to ROCK!

2007-12-09T21:01:00.000-08:00

Knowing my Guitar Hero addiction like he does (actually, he started it), my cousin invited me over last night to play with his newest toy, Rock Band. Boy, does it ever- rock, I mean. Fun fun fun! It was 7:30 p.m., then it was instantly 9:00, and next thing I knew it was 2:30 a.m. Dangerous to have around, actually, if anything else needs to get done. I was trying out the drums for most of the time, and I can see how a person could actually get better at drum set playing this game. I've always had trouble with the whole foot pedal coordination element when I've messed around on other people's drum sets, but by the end of the night, I actually felt marginally improved. Sorry there are no visuals, but I was having too much fun and didn't think to capture the moment.

We covered guitar and drums, but there's also room on stage for a bass player and a singer. How fun would that be? Here's a screen shot:

When you create your character, you choose everything from their physical build to their clothing look to their hair and tattoos- you can even design the tats and face paint yourself if you want. After all, what's an up-and-coming rock band without a Look? Can you see how 8 hours of my life just sort of disappeared?

when you're an adult, you have to make your own recess

2007-12-05T20:40:00.000-08:00

After two respectable snowfalls, it was time to walk the dog, nordic-style.

No leash, no tennis ball to obsessively fetch. Just me, my snowshoes, Brynn, and a big open playfield to frolic in. We both had fun, although the actual frolicking was mostly credited to her. As you can see by the trail, mine was a much straighter and less frolicsome path. I also buried my nose in the snow a lot less.

duckie checkmate

2007-12-04T20:57:00.000-08:00

A few months back, a friend and I played a running, unspoken game. Every time he used my bathroom, he moved at least one of my 3 rubber "duckies" to a new location (they're not all ducks). Then at some point, I would move another one, so that they were gradually migrating all over the bathroom. It was like one of those ongoing chess games people (other than me) sometimes play, except with only three pieces. And without the strategy. He checked me when all three duckies appeared in a line on the back of the toilet, dressed up in elaborate little costumes. I couldn't top that, so I just left them. Well, he hadn't been by in a while, but he recently topped himself by setting the following scene:

I have only one response to that:

Well played.

Trigger the imaginary cat

2007-12-03T11:58:00.000-08:00

As I mentioned earlier, I have a co-worker with an imaginary cat. I don't think this counts as an RPLM, because his randomness is not tied to our work as librarians. At least, not directly. Although I won't deny that there is a higher-than-average correlation between librarians and crazy cat people. My co-worker, whom I will refer to as "George" to half-heartedly protect his anonymity, is evidence that not only are there crazy cat ladies, and crazy cat men, there are also crazy imaginary cat men. George is a very mild-mannered guy, but he has a friend who drives him crazy. George's friend is a retired crazy cat man. I mean, he's retired from working. The cat thing is in full swing. George can't talk to him on the phone w/o Crazy Cat Friend referring to, talking to, or talking about the cats, and often trying to convince the cats to "say hi" to George.

George was sick of their conversations being dominated by creatures with no capacity for language, so in an attempt to level the playing field, he invented his own cat. Now when his friend talks to and about his cats while on the phone, George talks to and about "Trigger." He asked me if I knew where he could find a recording of a cat meowing so he could have a more convincing imaginary phone cat. I suggested that he plunk randomly on his piano and say it was Trigger. George was excited about this idea. A little too excited for a mild-mannered, sane, reality-based person, if you ask me. Not that I don't think it's hilarious, but I never would've guessed George had it in him. But his Crazy Cat Friend brings out the crazy in him, too. If I ever get that way about my dog, I hope one of you out there cares enough to do a save-the-single-person-with-pet-from-herself intervention. Deal?

Now that I've waxed on about the dangers of pet obsession, here are some gratuitous shots of Brynn breaking Rule #1: Do Not Taunt Happy Fun Ball.

...and what kind of doting aunt would I be...

2007-12-01T22:25:00.001-08:00

...if I didn't use my new camera to post pictures of Lucy? Her hair is getting long enough for a little ponytail, kind of 2/3's of the way to a Bam Bam 'do.

Only a few more weeks until she's a big sister!

back at it

2007-12-01T22:09:00.000-08:00

I broke down and bought a new camera today. Pretty snow and Christmas fun to be captured, after all.

Ah yes, the snow continues to fall. How quickly the seasons change! There are still wind-blown leaves in my garage, and now this:

My balcony railing doesn't know what season it's helping me celebrate anymore.

and a blessed Leon to you, too

2007-11-29T20:28:00.000-08:00

The world seems out to amuse me today. I'll get into my co-worker's imaginary cat later, but for today there is the house on the edge of my parents' neighborhood. They put up a fair-to-moderate amount of Christmas lights every year, and this year is no exception. I haven't driven by to see for myself yet, so this observation comes care of my sister. As we were getting off the phone, she had a request. "If you call Mom tomorrow, will you ask her if she knows why the house on the corner has "LEON" spelled in lights?" Why, indeed. It's not like they put the NOEL sign up backwards by mistake, because the letters are facing the right way. Is it supposed to be a joke? A grinchy anti-Christmas message? An homage to a friend named Leon? Some kind of misguided attempt at Christmas light back-masking? I almost don't want to know. The imagining is more fun. If I find me a working camera soon, I'll add visuals.

pocket archaeology

2007-11-27T19:44:00.000-08:00

Last night, the weather took a nose-dive from the mid-40's down to -5 windchill, so I broke out the Dewey coat. This is an old U.S. Air Force parka from the 60's or 70's that I rescued from my grandparents' attic; it belonged to my Uncle Dewey back in the day. It's enormous on me, but what a great coat! Warm and comfy with huge pockets. And not that I advocate harvesting this material today, but have you ever felt real wolf fur trim? Best. Hood. Ever.

Anyway, I hadn't used it since before I moved to Washington- because really, who needs that much parka when it's constantly 45 degrees in the winter? When I reached into a pocket, I found a list I wrote some time during grad school, with reminders for friends' birthdays, a voice recital, and a semi-cryptic line about "change money." Into what? I don't remember.

As I delved deeper into the Dewey Parka Pockets, layers of my life were revealed in strata of folded paper and assorted detritus. The tour itinerary for my trip with Ole Choir to the ACDA National Convention in Chicago, 1999 (playing English horn in the accompanying chamber orchestra, mind you); a freebie Chicago Symphony Orchestra/ACDA pen; an invitation to a Philharmonia pizza party, with chocolate heart still taped to it; three cough drops; St. Olaf January Music Calendar, 1998-1999; a receipt for gas at $1.39 a gallon; grade report card for English 399: Major Seminar (I got an A-; no idea what class that was); a carefully folded piece of notebook paper w/ nothing on it; half a peanut.

What does all this tell me, archaeologist of my former self? First of all, I was a pocket pack rat. Moving cross-country a few times has lessened that quite a bit. What else? Studying and playing music was a huge part of my everyday life. Playing still has some part in my life, but the more valuable thing I gained from all that college music majorism was the friendships- people like the ones I spent last Saturday night with, playing Mexican train dominoes and catching up (hi girls!!). What else does the DewPock tell me? I liked peanuts. Still do. I think the blank paper was just in case I had something to write, but I never used it. Looking down into the pockets of my past, I should have. I should have used those cough drops, and eaten the chocolate, and filled the paper up with thoughts and random quotes and doodles, instead of saving them for Just In Case. I should have eaten that peanut.

snow snow snow snow yaaaaaay!!!

2007-11-21T22:03:00.000-08:00

Okay, it's not a lot of snow, but the dusting has been happening for hours now, and it's actually sticking. And it gives me hope that maybe my snowshoes will not languish in the closet until March again like last year! Why is snow so happy-making? It just is. Add it to my thankful list. I just realized that I just used a hyphenated language construction I got from a teen sci-fi book. Way to go, Scott Westerfeld, for such plausible and catchy world-building!

today's RPLM

2007-11-20T10:05:00.000-08:00

Today's Random Public Library Moment gives you a peek into the strange, and sometimes frightening, world of cataloging.

Recognizing that people are much more comfortable with a video store model of finding DVD's by topic or genre (drama, comedy, home improvement, etc.) rather than by fiddling with those pesky Dewey Decimal numbers, that's how my library organizes them. This is a big improvement over filing every single feature film in the system- several thousand of them- under one number. And library geek points to the person who can Name That Dewey Decimal Number! (see below for answer) Poor Melvil- he didn't have these crazy moving pictures around to mess up his decimals back in the day.

Anyway, it's still not a perfect system, partly because we have the same categories for adult and children's DVD's. Which results in things like this:

This is Once Upon a Potty for him, a potty training video. And the category?
Easy DVD- Personal Growth

As far as personal growth goes, it seems like kind of a gimme to me. But I guess toddlers need to have something to talk about in their support/play groups, too.

Answer to geek bonus question: 791.4372

depends on your definition of "coffee"

2007-11-17T12:26:00.000-08:00

This is the Aster Cafe:

It's in an old converted warehouse in the St. Anthony Main district of Minneapolis, on the East Bank. I bet that some of you didn't know that Minneapolis has an East and West Bank. Que magnifique!

Aster is a comfortable, unpretentious cafe with rough wooden beams for a ceiling- not the clean, shellacked kind chosen by an architect to give a newly built location that classic look (what? who said Caribou?), but actual old wood, the kind that collects a fuzzy combination of cobwebs and dust that seems to have a symbiotic relationship with rough wooden beams. Although what the beams get out of it, I don't know.

This is an exchange I overheard during a Saturday lunch rush:

Impatient Customer: Do you have wireless internet?

Teenage Barista: No, we don't.

Customer: (Now slightly confused and annoyed) So you're not a coffee shop anymore?

Restrainedly Polite Teenage Barista: (refrains from glancing at the large chalk board behind her bearing the coffee menu and prices) We are a coffee shop. We just don't have wireless.

Might I also point out that the white signboard out front says "Coffee" in big letters. That whole wired-coffee/wired-technology double meaning has long been exploited by the coffee shop marketing people, but this is taking it a little far. I'm imagining a future world in which caffeine and wireless signals interact in the human body in some inextricable way.

polka-dotted deep truths

2007-11-16T23:24:00.000-08:00

A recent issue of The Horn Book included a tiny little short story by M.T. Anderson as part of their special "Boys and Girls" issue. (Horn Book is about books for children and young adults.) At the risk of breaking copyright laws, I'm going to quote the story here- a lot of it, if you know what I mean.

Coloring Dinosaurs
By M. T. Anderson

One morning in the second grade, our assignment was to color dinosaurs. A girl in my class came over and asked me what color a Diplodocus was. Suddenly, all of the things that usually made me an outsider—I was pale, weird, vacuously dreamy, and read a lot of books—made me appear to be an authority.

I did know about dinosaurs. So I tried to explain to Shirley that really, no one knew what color dinosaurs were.

As I talked, I watched my fleeting authority evaporate in her cute button-eyes.

So I quickly amended, “But the Diplodocus, yeah, he was green with a brown head.”

“Okay,” she said. “Tyrannosaurus?”

I made something up.

One of her friends said to her, “You’re listening to something Tobey says?”

“Only about how the dinosaurs were colored,” said Shirley, confidently crayoning one of the most ferocious of the earth’s carnivores pink with green spots.

If only I had been man enough to realize it, here, laid bare before me, was the One Great Secret of Masculine Authority:

If you don’t know the answer, bray about the subject loudly and confidently, and maybe no one will realize that you’re a complete idiot. People would rather hear a really stupid answer than believe there’s no answer at all.

In case you didn't know, I looooove M.T. Anderson. See previous post for more info. But I digress.

It's a great, compact piece of writing, but it's his final kicker of a sentence that really got me thinking. As a Christian, I don't believe there's anything that won't be answered in time. However, accepting that the answer is basically unknowable this side of glory is almost as hard. The idea that we have no control over when or how some answers come can really bug us- or maybe it's just me. So we accept, and sometimes vehemently defend, our polka-dotted dinosaurs without really testing them, just so we have something to call our own, a fast food sack in the hand because we can't wait for the Thanksgiving feast, or maybe we fear it'll never come. I'm all for polka-dots and star-gazing, as long as I remember which things I really know, and which ones I'm making up.

I've had an apostrophe

2007-11-13T20:50:00.000-08:00

The thing is...I kind of hate MySpace. There are a lot of people on MySpace, which makes it very successful for its purpose of social networking, but I don't like it. It's messy, and ugly, and not user-friendly, and I can't believe it's gotten as far as it has. Maybe I'll try Facebook, maybe not. I may give the newish site Virb a whirl. But if you're one of the people I keep in touch w/ over MySpace, be warned. My time there may be limited. Tom, no offense, you've always been there for me. But it's time to move on.

Ukrainian dance party

2007-11-12T00:14:00.001-08:00

I just went outside to walk the dog and saw some crazy flashing lights in my Ukrainian next-door neighbors' window. All the lights are out except for a home version of one of those colored light ball things, sitting on what looks like a dresser by the window. Looks like a party, but sounds silent. What in the name of borscht are they doing over there??

amazing, indeed

2007-11-11T19:24:00.000-08:00

The final song in worship this morning was "Amazing Grace," in a slightly updated style, but mostly the same as the original. My church is the kind of place where people sit or stand during worship, whatever they feel like doing. There was an older lady sitting behind me, and from what I've observed in the past, she's enough of a traditionalist that she doesn't usually stand unless someone says "please stand" from the front. But the first few words of the first line were still resonating when she got directly to her feet.

I understand exactly how she feels. Of all the meaningful songs in my life, this one still has the power to choke me up, at least a little, every single time I sing it. What is it about "Amazing Grace"? The lyrics, the music, the combination, or some inexplainable third element that makes it greater than the sum of its parts? A friend in grad school was on an ongoing quest to find as many melodies as he could that scanned well with the poetry of AG. His favorite success was the theme song to Gilligan's Island. Go ahead, try it. You know you want to. Same powerful words? Yes. The choke-up factor of that version? Not so high. I've never heard alternate lyrics to the AG melody, so I have no experience with reversing the experiment.

Whatever the reason, I'm thankful for it. The world is a better place with this song in it. And, of course, with the availability of said amazing grace. Nothing like the ring of incredible truth to make the meaning more, well, meaningful.

these are the places in my neighborhood

2007-11-07T22:00:00.000-08:00

What's with you, man? You been eatin' at the Crazy Buffet?

(sorry about the camera phone-quality photo)

arming the primates

2007-11-07T20:19:00.000-08:00

I was out in my car a couple days ago when I ended up behind this guy:

Yes, Mom, the car was safely stopped at a light when I took this picture.

In case you can't read that plate (I've been reduced to using my camera phone), it says "CHMPGN". Despite the fact that I lived in the city of Champaign for nigh on 3 years, this was not the first word that came to mind. Rather, I thought, "CHIMP GUN? What's that supposed to mean?" Other options might include CHAMP GONE, for a veiled Simon & Garfunkel, "where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio" kind of reference, or maybe CHOMP GOON. Or CHUMP GIN. In any case, putting an alcoholic beverage on your license plate seems like a gutsy move. It reminds me of a guy on the "Before We Go" blurb on the local news a few years back who used his initials: DWI. Of course, if the owner of this car gets pulled over, they could always claim it says CHIMP GUN. Because that's a much less conspicuous thing to say.

Best use ever of future perfect tense

2007-11-01T23:30:00.001-07:00

Because it made me laugh, and because it's a good solid piece of satire, here's a recent Onion News Network segment:

Preemptive Memorial Honors Future Victims Of Imminent Dam Disaster

My favorite line: What will I have done?

like singing in the shower, but shushier

2007-10-27T20:20:00.000-07:00

So I ended up working at the library last Sunday, which I kind of hate doing, but that's another story. I was helping someone in the children's fiction section when I heard this indistinct but vaguely tonal sound filling my area. I thought maybe some kid was singing in the bathroom, but they'd have to really be belting it out since the bathroom wasn't close. As I walked back to my desk, I realized that the sound was coming from a young girl in the glass study room. She didn't look like she was singing, just sitting there with her head down, reading some manga, but it had to be her. Kids often make the mistake of thinking that room is soundproof, instead of the echo chamber that it is. Kind of like a big shower stall, without the water. Or the privacy.

I needed to cut this little jam session short- it is a library, after all- but the shape of her tuneless tune felt a little familiar, and the music history major, listening test-taking student in me felt compelled to identify it first. Thank you, Alice Hanson!

Then it struck me: she was singing the Hallelujah Chorus. Only the first four bars, and in a made-for-TV, based-on-an-actual-song kind of way, but there it was. Unexpected, but okay, I'll buy it. After all, it was Sunday afternoon.

This has been another Random Public Library Moment (TM).

Mr. Ed's Choice Award

2007-10-23T20:44:00.000-07:00

I think I found the stickiest peanut butter in the world. It's Trader Joe's Organic Creamy Peanut Butter. If my camera worked, I'd show you (grrr....). For a brief, exhilarating, terrifying moment, I truly feared for the future of my mouth as a functional, multi-part mechanism capable of chewing, rather than a gooey mass of connected tissue. I feel I can safely make this a world-wide distinction. I don't do a lot of flag-waving, but anyone who's tried to find peanut butter abroad knows that what the rest of the world knows about making pb could fit in one tiny jar, a jar filled with a grainy, strangely mis-flavored mockery of the real thing.

What makes this particular brand so sticky? I don't know! It only has the usual natural peanut butter ingredients of peanuts and salt. They do make a big deal about using Valencia peanuts. Is that region of California known for its adhesive qualities?

Anyone can make an animal talk on screen; if you want it to talk in slow motion, look no further. If there are other kinds that belong in the Sticky Hall of Fame, speak up! Inquiring pb lovers want to know.

one third of my allotted time

2007-10-19T13:42:00.000-07:00

This is getting to be old news now, but once again I've been hobbled by lack of visuals. Last Tuesday my library system and my local NBC affiliate were brave/foolhardy enough to put me on live daytime TV for 5 minutes to talk about Teen Read Month and show off a handful of books. It was on Showcase Minnesota, the local show you end up watching if you don't bother changing the channel for the hour between the Today Show and Today Show: Hour 4 (sounds like a hostage situation to me). Here's the blurb on their website; don't skim, you'll miss it.

Besides taking an amount of time and energy to prepare which seems out of balance with the shortness of the actual airtime, I had a lot of fun. Got to see the studio, experience the behind-the-scenes world of local (but big market) TV, and schmoozed with the stars. Okay, I sat in the green room with a slightly cantankerous salon entrepreneur named Rocco, but that's enough Tuesday morning excitement for me.

Until I manage to get a YouTube-compatible file in my hands, here's a link to the clip that a friend kindly recorded for me. Thanks, Winston!

Showcase Minnesota- 9 October 2007- Teen Read Month segment

So does that make me a pretty big nerd, or a really big nerd?

2007-10-16T20:06:00.000-07:00

My latest behind-the-times show fixation is Heroes, season 1. When George Takei showed up as a guest star, the first thing I noticed was that the plates on his car matched the registry number of the U.S.S. Enterprise: NCC-1701. Cute touch on their part? Definitely. Sad that I noticed? Maybe, but I wasn't alone.
Exhibit One: how easy it was to find a screen capture of said trivia detail online:

I don't know, which one's frencher?

2007-10-07T19:53:00.000-07:00

Last night I had a lovely evening of Minnesota Orchestra and dinner with my friend Peter and his parents. We went to Vincent's, a French restaurant in downtown Minneapolis. First of all, the meal brought to mind such overused food and wine critic words as "exquisite" and "sublime"; "delicious" didn't quite cover it. Wowza.

A friend of mine used to gauge whether a restaurant was really as upscale as the decorating implied by whether or not they had cloth napkins. Well Nick, if you're out there, here's a new level entirely; see what you make of it. White cloth napkins were artfully folded at each place setting. As we sat down, our waiter asked each of Peter's parents if they would prefer a black napkin. What?? This is not an option I have ever encountered before. Does anybody know what that's all about? I completely forgot to ask the waiter before we left.

The Universal Language of Muzak

2007-10-05T13:45:00.000-07:00

If you've ever called a Hennepin County Library and been put on hold, you're familiar with our hold music. More accurately, our hold song. We only have one. No matter what time of day or what library you call, the hold song is always exactly the same: about 1 minute long on a continuous loop, sounding like the bastard love child of two timeless classics: "Guy at Bloomingdale's Playing Piano Under the Escalator at Christmas" and "The Song That Never Ends." I see-saw between hating it and loving it deeply and ironically. For all the time and money we invest in being on the cutting edge of technology in our field- Library 2.0 is the latest buzz term- couldn't we at least offer our customers, I don't know, *two* hold songs? Add a little excitement and unpredicability to the phone call? It's just a thought. But for now, we just have the one hold song, and I had started to think of it as all ours; after all, I'd never heard it anywhere else.

Until today.

I've spent quite a bit of time the past few days on the phone with the nice tech support folks in New Delhi. (I just went wireless. Where am I blogging from right now? My living room? My kitchen? The bedroom closet? Only I know! How's that for excitement and unpredictability?) They put me on hold, and over thousands of miles of wireless aether, I heard a familiar strain. It was a remix of the HCL hold song! I couldn't believe it. Instead of solo piano, it was sort of a Light (make that Lite) Rock version with an even slower tempo, but the banal melody, the barely distinguishable A and B sections, the short loop- it was all there.

Is this Cisco's theme song, to be found universally in all their phone systems? I wonder how many other versions are out there? Is there sheet music available? If/when I get a piano, I am going to teach myself this song. It'll only ever be useful as a one-hit joke at library staff parties where there's a piano available, but someday, someday that scenario will come true, and I'll be ready.

big crush and broken heart, all in one weekend

2007-10-02T16:57:00.000-07:00

Hello, gentle reader. Have I been busy lately, or just a lazy blogger? The world may never know.

Sometime in September, a Netflix DVD arrived in the mail: Ballykissangel, disc 1.

I wasn't sure how it got in my queue; probably a Netflix recommendation based on my enduring love for the BBC. A week or so later I got around to watching it. And kept watching it. And then watched it some more. The first two series (seasons) were short and went down quick. If you haven't seen it, think Northern Exposure in Ireland. If you haven't seen Northern Exposure, for shame. Rural town full of quirky characters; enter new guy. In this case, Father Peter Clifford, an outsider in the form of an English priest. And of course, enter Assumpta, the feisty, clergy-hating love interest, which for Father Clifford adds an extra-crunchy layer of complication. As a good Lutheran girl I've never had a crush on a priest before, but if it's got to happen, he may as well be fictitious.

I couldn't wait the interminable two-day turnaround time for Netflix to send me series 3, so I did something I never do: I sought out spoilers on the internet to find out what happened. And I'm glad I did. It gave me time to recover from the shock and then grieve before I saw the episodes for real. They ended the Peter/Assumpta era of the show in such a shocking, unexpected way, I actually felt like something tragic had happened in my life. I'm still not ready to move on to the last 3 series they made. I suppose it's a sign of good acting and good writing that I got so enamored with the characters so quickly, but I still feel a bit betrayed by the creators.

It may be possible that these TV series binges are not good for my mental health (confession time: last winter I watched all 5 seasons of Alias in less than a month). But hey, it's better than crack. That's a valid rationalization, right?

blog slacker

2007-09-02T21:40:00.001-07:00

Sorry about the lack of newness here at MSR lately. I've been partly busy, partly taking a little break, and partly lacking the visuals I'd like since my camera insists it has a Card Error and won't take any more pictures. Poo. I suppose I might post some backpacking pictures tomorrow, if I get around to it. How's that for decisive? I hope all of you out there have a wonderful Labor Day with as little actual labor as possible.

turning over & heading north

2007-08-23T19:41:00.000-07:00

On my way home from work tonight, my dear Subaru reached a milestone:

Many happy, reliable returns, loyal friend!

I'll be packing on even more miles tomorrow, when I head for the North Shore for a much-needed backpacking excursion along the Superior Hiking Trail. Nothing too intense or long, maybe 20 miles total, but in the woods and just the thing to unwind from a busy busy summer.

The meteorological community at large seems to agree that it will be beautiful, near perfect weather this weekend. Hooray! But even if it rains for 72 hours straight, I still intend to enjoy myself. Photos to come...

more fall fashions

2007-08-18T06:26:00.000-07:00

Sort of a "Nanook of the North has a day at the beach" look.

gazing fondly at my sweaters

2007-08-14T21:04:00.000-07:00

Don't get me wrong: I like summer. I even like my crazy summers at the library. But I'm ready to be done now. Done with the much-too-frequent 90-degree days, and trying to exercise my furry dog without giving her heat exhaustion (seriously- she falls down), and with said craziness at work. I'm sort of counting down to Friday, the last official day of our Summer Reading Program and the beginning of a little breather.

Then maybe the weather will get cooler, and I can pull out the warm clothes. Or buy some of the new fall stuff that's started coming in at work. REI, that is. The library currently doesn't have a women's casual wear section.

For the sake of visuals, here's a random comic I found online:

fun ways to call the kids in for dinner

2007-08-09T19:41:00.000-07:00

Have I mentioned that my sister is having a baby? Yes, Lucy will be a big sister in December. Little Fisch #2 is a girl, and the plan is to name her Olive. Which means that together, their nicknames will be Ollie-Lu. In the event of a third child, does anyone have ideas for a name that would shorten to something resembling "ya"? Then they could have a complete set: Ollie-Lu-Ya. We haven't come up with anything yet. And no, Yahweh is not a viable option.

Speaking of Lucy, I haven't featured her on here in a while. Here' s a fun arms-back flying pose that morphed into some kind of grand ballet bow:

unexpected connection

2007-08-07T19:54:00.000-07:00

When the list of the eight people still missing after the bridge collapse was released a few days ago, I was shocked to recognize one of the names. Scott Sathers was in my high school graduating class. We were never more than passing acquaintances at most, and I had no idea what had become of him after high school. Still, of 10,000+ people who crossed that bridge every day and the 13 who probably lost their lives, actually knowing one of them is a little surreal. Scott was a nice guy from what I remember, a bit of a class clown in a preppy kind of way. Good-natured, not cruel or mean. Played hockey, which I never would have remembered without looking at our senior yearbook. I haven't had a chance to visit the site yet, but when I do it'll seem that much more real- or maybe unreal, I'm not sure yet. Because now I have a face to go with my respects and prayers, even if it is 12 years out of date.

Scott is on the left

Objects of My Affection II: The Complete Harry Potter Collection, UK editions

2007-08-06T14:27:00.000-07:00

And now they are complete:

I bought the first three Harry Potter books when I was living in England in 2001, back when they were thinner and more packable, because I liked the alternate covers and the shorter, friendlier size, and because that was their country of origin and it seemed appropriate. Of course, once I started down that path, I felt compelled to make the set match. Fortunately for me, international mail and the online mega-power of Amazon.com made that not only possible, but easy and affordable. Sure, I got them each about a week after they were released, but that small show of delayed gratification has paid off with a complete set that makes the concrete-sequential and anglophilic chunks of my soul smile.

Here are the covers:

I like how the cover styles, like the contents, get older as the books progress. There are 5 different artists altogether. I do like the American GrandPre covers, but I like these better. And when I take the dust jacket off to keep it safe, the illustration is printed on the actual cover as well, so it's still pretty. Plus even the doorstop-sized middle books rest nicely in one hand while you're reading, and you can turn pages with the other hand. It's the little things, you know?

"We'd like to thank Hormel a lot..."

2007-08-05T00:36:00.000-07:00

"...for their generous support of Spam...alot."

That was the introduction, and it just got funnier from there.

Spamalot. A hit Broadway musical based on a cult classic movie. A movie with no real ending, just sort of the end of the reel. And yet, let Eric Idle and Friends take another crack at it, mix in a few other Monty Python jokes and songs at random, and you've got yourself a hi-laaarious evening of entertainment. It was fun to see the scenes I've had memorized since high school enacted on stage, but I think the new or slightly altered bits were my favorite. Like how Dennis the Constitutional Peasant is actually Dennis Galahad, who joins the quest after being talked into it by the Lady of the Lake and her part ethereal water nymph, part cheerleader "Laker girls." Alas, I didn't see the Curry/Pierce/Azaria cast (I'm salivating at the very thought), but the touring guys did a fine job. I think I may have to acquire the original cast recording so that I can add the show to my "you big nerd, how much Monty Python do you really need to memorize?" repertoire.

And isn't this where the show really belongs, here in Minnesota, the cradle of Spam itself?

My other favorite thing: the stage bill. Analogous to the Holy Grail opening credits in quasi-Swedish, there is a title page in quasi-Finnish:

And that fits in Minnesota, too! I needed look no further than the person sitting next to me to find a Finnish last name with an abundance of oddly-arranged vowels. And I mean that in the nicest possible way. Finland, Finland, Finland, the country where I want to be...

kettles and sandstone, and a Bridges-R-Us product recall

2007-08-03T20:24:00.000-07:00

I had the day off today, and I escaped north into the woods with my dog. Brynn and I spent the day hiking, rolling in mud (her), and snapping photos (me) in Banning State Park just outside of Sandstone, Minn., about 90 miles north of the Twin Cities.

Like you might guess, the area was developed as a sandstone quarry back in the 1890's or so. The forest has since reasserted itself, and all that's left of the old quarry are piles of conspicuously square-edged rock slabs, holes in the ground, and the occasional ruins, mostly with trees sticking out of them.

I'm a sucker for self-guided trails, so I done some learnin' about quarries and local history. I also learned that the Kettle River along which the ruins stand got its name from the round holes and formations, or "kettles," carved in the sandstone by the water. The accepted geological term for them is actually "potholes," which sounds much more scientific. I have dubbed the uncanny formation below the Eye of God for obvious reasons (photographed from below):

And what stretch of the river is God keeping an eye on? Devil's Gate. As He should.

Maybe someone should kick it in the butt.

It's a lovely park, and it was a beautiful day for a hike; the sort of day I love in the north woods, when you walk through shade into a sunny patch, and the smell of sun-warmed pine needles is present there as if it were part of the sunlight. There's nothing else like it.

I put more photos from Banning on Flickr if anyone's interested.

In one of those "small world" moments, I crossed a bridge in Sandstone that was under construction. I would barely notice usually, but today I noticed. Then I realized there was no construction: it was an inspection.

Look a little familiar? It turns out I had ended up on one of four bridges in the state that have similar construction to the 35W bridge, and the governor had ordered an immediate inspection of all of them. If the state could recall those bridges like cars or harmful-if-swallowed baby toys, they'd be back at the big bridge factory right now, but as it is, Pawlenty had to send the inspectors to them. Whether it was for safety reasons or to search for clues to what happened on Wednesday, I don't know. But two guys were in a basket taking a good look at the trusses. The yellow vehicle on the left is some sort of reverse cherry picker (clam digger?) that dips down over the side instead of lifting up. Very interesting to see. Sandstone is straight up I-35, and on the drive home, the sign warning that 35W is closed south of Highway 280 was the first real-world driving evidence I've seen that it really happened.

And since these coincidences usually seem to come in threes, here's another bridge I encountered today:

I've got your 'structurally deficient' right here!

me and mine are fine

2007-08-01T20:40:00.000-07:00

I didn't have my TV or radio on after work today. I found out about the collapse of the 35W bridge (see news sites) through a text from a friend, then another text as a friend told me she was okay, then from a call from a friend in Olympia, who was watching TV and heard about it before I did. Me and my family are all fine. Please keep the missing, injured, dead, and their families in your prayers as the recovery efforts continue. This was a major thoroughfare, and getting back to normal will literally take years.

As it happens, I was on my way to church for a meeting, but it was the perfect place to be. We were able to pray and intercede together, and what else can we really do besides watch the same news clips over and over again?

So...you're not a Tampa Bay fan, then?

2007-07-29T22:16:00.000-07:00

Working in a public library, I regularly experience irregular things. It's part of why I like my line of work so much. These Random Public Library Moments (RPLM's) could come from any source, for any reason, at any time. After all, it's not only a public building, but the kind of public building that draws a wide variety of people for an even wider variety of reasons, and sometimes for no discernible reason at all. My favorite RPLM's to date were my interactions with a lady at the Centralia Timberland Library who thought she was Mrs. Hugh Hefner. Did you know that he's the real Elephant Man? It's true. Did you see Mask? That was him. Ask Cher, she'll tell you. And it only got better from there.

My favorite RPLM last week was much less elaborate, but still entertaining. We have a little survey question posted at the Children's Info Desk that changes every so often. Kids can take a little piece of paper and write down their answer, and we tack them up on the bulletin board. Currently, the question is: If you were a pro baseball player, what position would you play? Any guesses on the most popular answer so far? (See below) In the "less common response" category falls this one:

Excellent sentiment? Yes. Odd placement? Um, yeah. Unless it's a deeply masked jab at the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, but I'm really stretching here.

The most common answer is pitcher.

The phone books are here! The phone books are here!

2007-07-27T22:22:00.000-07:00

Like Steve Martin in The Jerk, I am giddy with excitement over the arrival on my doorstep of three brand-new phone books! Yellow *and* white, just for me? Plus the little mini-sized regional one? Oh heavenly day!!

Oh yeah, and some other book came as well, Henry somebody-or-other...

What I did on my summer vacation, pt. 1

2007-07-26T19:36:00.000-07:00

Just in case I don't get around to part 2, I'm going to start with the highlight of my trip to Colorado, which was hiking to the top of Eagle Peak. There were other great things, but at approx. 12,200 ft., Eagle Peak was the literal high point, so I'll go with that first.

No wait, first I'll give a nod and long distance hug to my college roommate and all-around great gal Leigh, along w/ hubby Zach and little pre-born Colin. The whole vanload of us stopped at their house for lunch in Littleton, and she had an awesome spread ready for us. This despite the fact that she'd had a very rough morning, one that culminated in her mother reviving her with a garden hose. But it was great to see her, even though I wish we had longer. Thanks again, Leigh, O Hostess with the Mostest!

Now for the climbing. Rainbow Trail is in the Sangre de Christo mountain range in the southern Rockies, west of Pueblo. Eagle Peak is the nearest peak to the camp. Here it is as seen from the porch of the main building:

See the pointier-looking part on the right? That's the false peak. Liar! Liaaar! That's the side we ascended, so the closer false peak was as far as we could see for most of the hike. Were we motivated by a lie, or only given as much as we could handle? There's a good metaphor in there somewhere.

The hike was certainly uphill, but not bad up until Rainbow Lake, which had a very high water level thanks to all the melted snow from Colorado's ridiculous number of huge snowstorms last winter.

By the way, my brother-in-law proposed to my sister (the first time) in this lake; not at, in.

After heading on up from the lake, things got hairier. First there was the section known among the staff as the Trail of Tears. Then came the really tough part.

That toughest part is The Meadow (not to be mistaken for The Meadows, also in Colorado, the well-known secret meeting place of The Pentaverate). Doesn't a meadow sound lovely, like you should sit down and have a picnic, or maybe frolic? Well, it's not that kind of meadow. I did wish I could sit down, but not much frolicking happened on my part.

(we're actually heading down in this picture, but you get the idea.)

It's steep, stingy on the oxygen, and seemingly interminable. One of those stretches of hike where the end never seems to get any closer, until eventually, somehow, miraculously, you've arrived. In this case we had arrived at the base of basically a pile of large rocks we had to scramble up. Scrambling was okay with me, because my legs had had enough, and now my arms could help out.

In the "glass is half-full" category, there was some lovely, hearty flora on the meadow:

We got to the top of the pile only to discover it wasn't quite the top of the pile (liaaar!), but after a not-too-uphill jaunt across a ridge in the pile, then we had summited. Yay!

Yes, that is a golden retriever behind me. She's a camp dog who invited herself along, and I was especially impressed with her rock-climbing abilities. Altogether, there were 19 people and one dog, 14 miles round trip, about a mile of elevation gain, and we all made it, the first group of the summer to have the conditions and guts to summit. The weather was clear and beautiful (at that point), and the view unbeatable.

On the way back down, we spent the last hour or two hiking through the only rainstorm we got all week, but what a payoff when we finally got back:

Rainbow Trail, indeed. That's even the building we were heading for, the dining hall. Since we returned at the tail end of dinner time, the whole camp waited for us and gave us a big hero's welcome as we hauled our soggy selves in. It was really a great moment, very warm and fuzzy despite being personally wet and stinky.

I took it easy by comparison for the rest of the week. That was a good hike.

I can quit whenever I want

2007-07-25T21:20:00.000-07:00

Showed great restraint today. Did not find nearest HP dealer after work to get a fix. Went home and worked on my shameful backlog of unfinished reviews on Book Barker.

Honestly, seeing all those copies at work on hold for other people hasn't bothered me. Yet.

I read a Barnes & Noble copy for a few hours

2007-07-24T20:25:00.000-07:00

No real spoilers below, unless you're an ultra-purist. But you've been warned.

Chapters Finished: 5
Death Count: 3

This is going to be a tough one. But we knew that.

Hopefully my Amazon.co.uk copy will come Friday. Godspeed, international mail!

keeping my head above water

2007-07-23T16:41:00.000-07:00

I went to the Minnesota Zoo this month for the first time in many years. Maybe I shouldn't say "many"- after all, the zoo only opened in 1978, and old-school St. Paul natives like my mother still refer to it as the "New Zoo." It's bigger than it used to be, so lucky for me I had an expert guide (you know who you are). Having taken large groups of young children to the zoo several times, he was well-qualified to keep me from wandering into the wolf enclosure, running in the gift shop, etc. It was a warm Saturday afternoon, and when we got to the Bactrian Camels, I was more than a little surprised to see this:

Camels like to stand around in the middle of ponds? Who knew? Well, anybody who's been to the zoo more recently than I have, I suppose. According to the Zoo's website, Bactrian Camels are "reportedly" good swimmers. Does this mean that no officially licensed zoologists have ever seen one swim, and they are relying on the tales told by the Mongolian tribesman who have shared the Gobi desert with the camels? Ah, the beautiful moonlight camel swims; few who have been fortunate enough to witness them shall ever forget the beauty, the serenity, the buoyancy of these hearty beasts of burden. When you think about it, with those giant reserves of fatty tissue permanently attached to their backs like God-given water wings, I should hope they're good swimmers.

Seeing them standing there, only their necks and humps visible, I felt a certain kinship. Between settling into homeownership and the bills that go with it, and the many-faceted craziness of a summer at the public library, I feel like I've spent the last few months in a similar mostly-submerged position, much busier than is comfortable as a norm. It's not more than I can handle (God help me- and often, please), and like the camels I've waded here by choice and would do it again. Unlike the camels, I'm not up to my neck in nice, cool, relaxing water. I think I need to find some soon, preferably off in the North Woods somewhere.

When winter comes, I wonder if camels rise above it all and go skating?

Accio Deathly Hallows

2007-07-19T20:26:00.000-07:00

Counting the hours until Harry Potter 7 is released? From Brotherhood 2.0's Hank Green comes just the song for you:

oh yeah? recognizeTHIS!

2007-07-16T18:50:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone, who/where-ever you are.

I'm back. But my computer no longer recognizes my camera when I try to hook it up, so I can't yet share any fun photos of what the heck I've been up to in the last, oh, 3 weeks. The peaks I've climbed, the minivans I've sat in, the camels I've seen standing around, half-submerged. It's all trapped on my camera. Stories are coming, eventually, but I'm a child of the 21st century: I need visuals!

By the way, at first I typed "child of the 12th century." What would I need then? Dirt? A motte and bailey?

rambling West

2007-06-29T22:59:00.000-07:00

In precious few hours, I'm off to Colorado for a week of family camp in the mountains with Katie, Jav, Lucy, and Jav's parents. Our motley crew of mostly Fischers are bound for Rainbow Trail Lutheran Camp in a rented minivan. Yes, that's right, I've volunteered to accompany a 15-month-old child on her first 16-hour car trip. Besides that excitement, there are many mountains to be climbed and much relaxing to look forward to. I hope.

Maybe I'd better pack now. Yes, excellent idea...

'Til July 9, grace and peace!

from the far corners to my wall

2007-06-26T21:43:00.000-07:00

As I looked at my newly assembled Wall o' Music, it occurred to me how many parts of my life are represented on it. One of the vertical instruments (the zhalika- spelling uncertain) was a gift from a college friend who traveled to Russia; the other from a friend who traveled...somewhere far and/or wide. I forget where now. The pan-style flute and the qena in the red case I bargained for in Peru after grad school; the book is the Pocket Book of Great Operas, gleaned from rejected donations to the St. Olaf music library when I worked there. I thought it might be of use in my opera class. It wasn't, but it's still a nice decorative item. The LP's are from an estate sale in Olympia.
Hopefully, the WoM will eventually be dominated by a modest but decent little piano. For now, there's a music stand and my oboe case.

As I was unpacking and decorating the place, I made a conscious effort to include no meaningless clutter. Any objects sitting on shelves would either be consumable (candles, etc.), functional (speakers, metronome), or have personal significance. It turns out that these guidelines still left plenty of stuff to fill up my shelves. In the interest of reminiscence and possession justification, I'm going to begin a blog mini-series called "Objects of My Affection". Hopefully it will be interesting to people beyond myself, and hopefully some of you will see a few familiar faces. In the faceless, inanimate sense of the word. If there is such a sense.

don't judge an author by his covers

2007-06-23T13:43:00.001-07:00

This is me (behind the paper), my co-worker Ginger (left), and author Richard Peck. Why do I so often look slightly sedated in photos? I don't know. But that's beside the point. Richard Peck is a pretty big-time author; he's won a couple of Newbery Awards, and his books get consistently good reviews. Because they're good. He writes mostly American historical fiction for the 4-8th grade set, which is not my favorite genre, but the writing is so good that I read and enjoy them anyway. Earlier this week, he visited my library and a few others in HCL. He's an engaging speaker, and I'm glad I got the chance to meet him.

He touched on a few topics, like writing, the subjects of his books, etc., but there was a refrain that ran throughout his talk. Mr. Peck's mission is to bad-mouth his publisher's art department up one side of the country and down the other.

See that look on his face? That's the way he feels about at least 9 out of 10 of his covers. It was pretty funny, if a bit obsessive. The man never gets the covers he asks for, and the books are less appealing as a result. Which is probably true. They're not bad covers, just very sedate. By his telling, the art department ladies have it in for him and give him the exact covers he asks them not to do. For The Teacher's Funeral, for example, he asked for a fist fight, and they gave him a photo of a one-room schoolhouse.

The international examples got truly bizarre. His most famous character is Grandma Dowdel in A Long Way from Chicago, a cantankerous and independent woman living on a farm in Illinois. Yes, she has a shotgun, and yes, she is extremely wary of unexpected visitors who may be salesmen, but it's all very funny. In Japan, the cover for the book looks more like a deleted scene from Deliverance. I couldn't find a close-up graphic, but squint sideways at the above photo and you might get the idea.

Once you leave out the cover ranting, there were only about 20 minutes left of presentation, but it was good. He's a big supporter of libraries and all the research you can do there. One of his most memorable statements for me was (and I paraphrase): people say you should write what you know; forget that. No one wants to hear about what you know. Write about what you can find out.
I like that. I can find out quite a bit.

what do they teach in Sunday School these days?

2007-06-18T21:03:00.000-07:00

For those of you who work with children, you know that one of the most challenging and entertaining aspects is that when you're fishing for response A or B, they often throw you C. In storytime I've learned the hard way to NEVER ASK QUESTIONS ABOUT PETS. Also, try to avoid saying things that could lead to talking about pets. Or recent scars. Or pets. If you do, you'll never get a chance to do anything else until you first exert a lot of energy talking them down. Allow me to illustrate:

LIBRARIAN: There once was a squirrel named Sammy.
CHILD 1: My dog likes to chase squirrels!
CHILD 2: I have a dog named Buster!
CHILD 3-25 concurrently: I have a _____ named ______; I have [number] pets; I had a ____ but it got run over by a ______; etc.
CHILD 26: Look at my scab! I skinned my knee on the playground and it was bleeding and we went to Wendy's.

In my storytimes at least, nearly all roads lead to pets and recent scars; they are the choice C to most A's and B's. But sometimes things diverge in less predictable ways. While Sunday School at my church is on a break for the summer, the assistant pastor gives a little children's message before the main sermon. A few weeks ago was Pentecost, celebrated by Christians as the day when God sent the Holy Spirit to empower and counsel His church after Christ's resurrection. In theological terms it's a very big deal, but not much of a commercial holiday. To illustrate this, the pastor asked the kids, "what are some holidays we celebrate here at church?", thinking they would come up with Christmas, Easter, etc. One little boy piped right up: "PASSOVER!" Had he been reading stories about Moses and the Exodus with his family? Did he actually remember that we hosted a Passover seder a few months back to look at how many of the elements foreshadowed Christ's work on the cross? Who knows. For whatever reason, the first holiday that occurred to a little blonde Lutheran boy was Passover. And that tickles me.

As a side note, the most recent kids' message involved an apple, and one kid was much more concerned with which kinds of animals like to eat apples than with how said fruit illustrates the Trinity. So there you are: it's all about pets.

please pass the bug spray and smoked salmon

2007-06-14T21:42:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had hors d'oeuvres in a canoe? Try it! Nothing says class like rye, cajun salmon and cream cheese, delicately assembled with a Leatherman.

I recommend finding still waters.

will it ever get old?

2007-06-12T01:12:00.001-07:00

I recently discovered Will It Blend? And a beautiful thing it is, too. The perfect example of a cheesy retro ad campaign that really found a following and a life of its own. It's the same thing every time: same format, same deadpan delivery, same silly lines, same blender. The one variable is the contents. I guess that's what makes it a valid and respectable scientific experiment. That, and Tom Dickson's safety glasses. That really clinches it for me.

Like with many YouTube videos, there always seems to be one more. And I always end up watching one more. Objective hard science and an economics lesson in supply and demand. Blend that!

great Caesar's ghost, that's bad

2007-06-08T12:58:00.000-07:00

I know he's a boy scout. I know some people think he lacks that certain superhero noir that's so popular nowadays. But Superman has always been, and always will be, my favorite superhero, tightie reds and all.

Thanks to my local public library, I got a hold of The Adventures of Superboy, Season 1, featuring a college-age Clark Kent and friends, ca. 1988.

First, the good: I think they meant well. It's kind of sweet sometimes, and they do try to be faithful to the comics, mostly. Other than that, it's a combination of bad young actors and guest star veterans like My Favorite Martian's Ray Walston, bad scripts, bad special effects, and a soundtrack straight out of 80's TV. Camp at its least intentional. Why did 80's TV take itself so seriously? Was it the looming threat of nuclear holocaust, U.S. Cold War self-righteousness, what? And why is Clark/Superboy's lip always slightly curled, like he's either smelling something vaguely foul or channeling Elvis?

The world may never know.

how geeks show they care

2007-06-04T20:28:00.000-07:00

An enterprising student at the U of M used Google Earth to find the alphabet as rendered by buildings seen from space, then made a greeting-sharing website called GeoGreeting.com. Click here for my sample greeting to you. Cool, eh?

Buffy-oke!

2007-06-03T00:43:00.000-07:00

When I was in grad school, a dear friend hosted a series of Buffythons. This was before they were released on DVD; he just had them all on tape. I had never watched the show, seeing as how it was called "Buffy the Vampire Slayer." He kindly showed me and a fortunate group of others what we'd been missing for four years. I didn't think anything would ever match those Buffythons as a communal Buffy bonding experience. I was wrong.

I just got back from a Buffy Singalong, a.k.a. Buffy-oke. It's part karaoke, part Rocky Horror Picture Show, all Buffy. You fans of the show are well-acquainted with the sixth season highlight, an episode called "Once More, With Feeling," during which, in the immortal words of Milhouse, the cast goes crazy Broadway-style. Music, lyrics, writing and directing by Joss Whedon, may he ever prosper. And now a couple of guys from New York have taken an interactive version on the road. The fun began at midnight. There was a little audience play-acting, a few video montages, trivia, and most importantly, a subtitled sing-along extravaganza, complete with props:

I won't go into it, but they each had their place.

It may be coming to a theater near you. Here in Minneapolis, it played at the Riverview, one of the last of the old neighborhood theaters. There was a solid crowd of at least 400-500, and a great crowd it was. If the show is coming to your town and you can stay up that late, it was fantastic fun. My next trip to Riverview: midnight Serenity viewing in three weeks. Yes!!!

what are you, eight?

2007-05-27T21:27:00.000-07:00

For anyone who knew me in the ca. 1985-1999 era and visited my house, you know about the kick-a$$ bunk bed my dad built for me in third grade, which I insisted on using throughout high school and, during school holidays, throughout college as well. When I left the state for grad school, my parents took the opportunity to dismantle the bunk bed, marking the end of an era. Well, consider this the Great 21st-Century Bunk Bed Renaissance, because it's back:

I got back a fixture of my childhood, and my parents got back a good chunk of storage space in their garage; everybody's happy. I thought about putting a desk in the underneath area by the white chair, but I think I'll make it into a reading cubby with cushy floor seating instead. Are you jealous yet? Despair not, friends, because you're looking at the guest bed. Come on over! (Aerobed available for the faint of heart, faint of heights, or notably tall among you.)

the ankle monitor comes off at last!

2007-05-25T22:13:00.000-07:00

There's still some paperwork to sign, but I have now passed my probation! I bet you didn't know I was on probation. If you're wondering what my offense was, it involved getting hired by Hennepin County Library. Apparently, the County considers getting hired by itself something worthy of punitive measures.

Okay, so maybe my probation was in the probatio, "testing time" sense of the word. But since my library shares a building with the district courts, I couldn't help but wonder if maybe I would show up to work one Saturday morning, someone down the hall would hear that I was still on probation, and I'd get press-ganged into wearing a reflective vest and picking up trash all day. Well, no more living in fear! And better yet, no more curfews and keeping my nose clean! It's back to my old, degenerate self now. Or not.

I may officially and fully work for The Man now, but don't worry: I'm keepin' it real.

good neighbors

2007-05-22T21:55:00.000-07:00

I opened my front door on Sunday afternoon to figure out what sound I was vaguely hearing from next door. It was my Ukrainian neighbor, singing melancholy Russian folk songs at full voice with an impressive Russian-style baritone. It was lovely. Especially compared to my neighbor in Champaign during grad school, who liked to play Cher dance remixes at 2 in the morning. We'll soon find out how far Nadia and Vasily's neighborly tolerance and devotion to music go; I need to practice my oboe.

thunder sucks

2007-05-20T13:09:00.001-07:00

That's how my dog feels about it, anyway. She gets this pathetic look on her face and hides under/behind/in the most secure place she can find. Today, that meant cuddling up with the power adapter under my little computer table. One thing about dogs, they can really emote long-suffering with the best of them.

snapshot

2007-05-18T21:01:00.000-07:00

Here is a snapshot of my week:

A partial catalog of contents: me; Brynn (not a fan of the flash); boxes; piles of books I'll never have time to finish; hidden on the left, Brookdale's Guitar Hero equipment (I want to make sure this guitar isn't broken like the other one- I know, how selfless of me); in the front, my oboe and Plymouth Concert Band folder for a veterans event tomorrow morning; on my feet, my happy new sandals- thank you, REI employee discount! Such has been my week, conveniently piled in a corner of my living room.

Maybe they should have worn seat belts...?

2007-05-18T00:48:00.000-07:00

This article appeared in the St. Paul Pioneer Press earlier this week and really struck my fancy:

A late-night couch-towing stunt in Hartland Township, Wis., led to the hospitalization of three men Sunday.
Joseph M. Schoeder, 23, of Beldenville, Wis., was in a Chevy pickup pulling a couch through a pasture about 1:30 a.m. - with three other guys on the sofa, authorities said.
It's unclear what went wrong, but...

The article goes on, but let's stop there. Unclear? I think I've got a pretty good idea what went wrong. They were towing a couch...behind their pickup...through a pasture...with three passengers. What, were the cows already tipped?

And what's better, it turns out that this was an annual event for the group in celebration of the fishing opener. A follow-up article states, "The incident remained under investigation Monday, and the sheriff said she could not yet say whether drinking was involved, if any laws were broken, or where the group got the couch."

Welcome to the Satellite of Sorbo

2007-05-18T00:05:00.000-07:00

Hello again! My posting gap wasn't due to mere laziness this time. I moved into my new place Sunday, and I didn't have an internet connection until now. Plus, I've had my head buried in a variety of cardboard boxes, but the end is in sight. Sure, I'm missing a few key pieces of furniture like a kitchen table, but I'm sure IKEA and/or spring garage sales will solve that problem soon. A big thank you to the two Jasons who helped me move: one willingly, and one through trickery. I assured my cousin Jason that I would use my NetFlix connections to get a hold of Walking Tall: The Payback, the Kevin Sorbo sequel to the The Rock remake of the 1970's Joe Don Baker classic tale of vigilante justice. That adds up to a movie that's twice removed from what was already B-grade material, but Jason being the bad movie aficionado that he is, he really wanted to see it. I graciously offered to host the viewing at my new place, and oh did I mention that we'll need to move the TV and a few other things over there first? Clever, eh? But there was indeed a Payback, or more like a Payoff, because the movie was Sorbo-rifically bad, in a very entertaining way. And as Jason pointed out, the first movie I ever watched in my home was Kevin Sorbo's Walking Tall: The Payback, and nothing will ever change that. In the tradition of MST3K's Satellite of Love, he christened my digs the "Satellite of Sorbo." See, Mom- more good uses for your label maker. I'll never mock again.

"best forgotten by" date

2007-05-12T23:44:00.000-07:00

One unfortunate difference between my old job and my new one is that the bureaucracy and politics in my life have about tripled. That's to be expected in a big system, I suppose, but it's amazing to me how much mental energy is wasted by people worrying and/or complaining about issues big and small- not to mention the people causing issues big and small for petty reasons. The phenomenon certainly isn't tied to my line of work; a friend of mine recently told me that the hens in his office are all clucking about the unwelcome changes forced on them by new printers. So I've devised a method of screening what scuttlebutt is worth my time. I'll ask myself, will this issue outlast the milk in my fridge? When that last inch I never manage to use goes sour, will this latest drama still have any bearing on my life? If not, I'll save myself some time and blow it off now.

because "Senior Wrangler sauce" doesn't fit on a paint chip

2007-05-10T20:28:00.000-07:00

I discovered this week that home ownership translates almost instantly into trips to Home Depot, and today it paid off. My mom, our friend Barb, and I tackled the walls of my condo, and I am quite happy with the results so far. [note: we didn't literally tackle the walls, or we'd be all sticky and orange now.] This photo is a little shady, but it captures the color pretty decently:

The darker shade in the living room is "Amber Wave" (just one), and the lighter kitchen color is "Brandy Butter," which I only recently realized is an actual holiday-related substance, not just the brain child of the fine folks in the marketing department at Behr Paint. Alternative names for the edible, non-acrylic-based version include "Senior Wrangler sauce," care of Cambridge, and thanks to a Euro-urban legend, "brandy spreadable fat." Mmmm. I love Wikipedia. And I think Behr missed out on a real winner of a name.

Donner and Blitzen, or dah-nah-endableet-zoon?

2007-05-08T22:25:00.000-07:00

We had a nice, healthy thunderstorm roll through the Twin Cities this evening. As I sat on the floor of my new condo (no furniture) listening to rain bounce off the skylight (very cool), my mind drifted to thoughts of German (for no reason). 'Donner' and 'Blitzen', as you may well know, are German for 'thunder' and 'lightning', respectively. Now I'm sure Santa had their speed, power, and skyward association in mind when he named two flying reindeer after thunder and lightning, but were these truly the best name choices? I mean honestly, how many thunderstorms do they have at the North Pole, or in Europe at Christmastime, for that matter? There are other cold-weather phenomenon he could have chosen that would've been much more appropriate. Blizzard, for example. Or Wind Chill. Heck, he could've used a nice Inuit word for "freakish jingling flying horse pulling a fat man"; it's not like he'd have to travel all that far to ask them for ideas.

Or maybe I'm giving Santa a bad rep. Maybe his reindeer do have lovely, culturally and meteorologically relevent names. Maybe Clement C. Moore, in the grand tradition of dead white guys everywhere, couldn't pronounce Inuit and therefore made up his own names that were perpetuated in "A Visit from St. Nicholas." Just as "Ojibwe" became "Chippewa" and "Ho Chunk" became "Winnebago" (don't ask), the Inuit word for "freakish jingling flying horse pulling a fat man" was transliterated in the poem as "Donner and Blitzen." I'm no linguist, but it sounds good to me. Scholars specializing in 19th-century Christmas poetry now believe that Moore probably didn't write the poem anyway, so I say it's open season on the shoddy Inuit transliteration!

Welcome to 2037!

2007-05-06T20:39:00.000-07:00

At high noon on Friday, I discovered a time machine. I activated this vision of my future by merely signing my name 29 times, and just like that I owned a home and a 30-year mortgage. Not that I really plan on living in this condo for 30 years, but in one of endless possible worlds, I will be 60 years old and finally full owner of my 780 square feet.

There were a couple weeks between when I paid off my student loan and when I closed on my new home. In those weeks, I was debt-free for the first time since college, and the last time until, well, 2037. Those were some great weeks. That said, I really like my new place. Now if I can just find the time to paint and move in...

How do you spell slacker? A-L-I-A-S

2007-05-01T18:43:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since my last post. I blame Jennifer Garner. I just discovered Alias, only 6 years late. Thanks to Netflix and...other...sources, I've been burning through them like it's going out of style. Wait- can you do something "like it's going out of style" if it already went out of style? It's too soon for my Alias obsession to have retro or ironic coolness. I'm simply behind. That's okay; at the rate I'm going, it won't be long before I'm out of Aliases to cut into my reading pile.

I'm thinking of inventing an Alias drinking game. Or jelly bean eating game, whatever. I'm sure someone has already done this, but I've avoided a Google search to keep my ideas pure. Here's a sneak peek:

1 Drink when Sydney's (Jennifer Garner's) hair is a color other than brown
2 Drinks when it's a flourescent or neon shade
1 Drink when the bad guy keeps his secret lair in the back room of an ultra-hip night club
1 Drink when anyone says "let's go".
1 Drink when Syd speaks a language other than English
2 Drinks if she speaks two or more other languages in one episode
1 Drink when Marshall digresses into a random story during a mission briefing
1 Drink when Marshall's co-workers interrupt his digressions by saying, "Marshall!"
3 Drinks if Marshall ever gets through a briefing without digressing
1 Drink for every meaningful, romantic tension-filled look between Sydney and Vaughn
1 Drink when Jack Bristow responds to a direct question or statement by simply staring
3 Drinks if Jack demonstrably smiles
1 Drink for every new Rambaldi device or manuscript that's introduced
2 Drinks when said devices or manuscripts are assembled into a powerful and mysterious uber-device
3 Drinks when said uber-device causes a gi-normous red ball of water to hover for no apparent reason

You get the idea. Any additions?

keep it real, MLB

2007-04-18T20:33:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting here watching the Twins beat the Mariners again (GO TWINS!!). A minute ago there was a commercial featuring Justin Morneau, American League MVP last season and cute young Canadian bachelor. What was he selling, you may wonder? Was it a sexy car? Sexy athletic shoes? Something sexy? Folks, this is baseball. He was selling...milk. That's right, Land-O-Lakes milk is Justin Morneau's MVP: Most Valuable Pour. How cheesy is that? It sounds like something from 1960's radio. I love it! No milk commercials in football, I assure you. Not that I don't like football. But do Average Joe and the Everyday Joneses spend more time drinking beer with their skinny, beautiful, fun-loving friends, or buying and drinking milk? Baseball is still the all-American game in the best sense of the term, and that means it has real commercials for real folks, at least some of the time. And does Morneau the big sports star have a trendy bachelor pad? Kind of. He lives in a big house, but he pays rent to his house-owning roomie, Twins super-catcher Joe Mauer. Last year, there was even a rookie crashing in their basement. Ever hear of NFL or NBA stars living together in every high school letterman's fantasy world, drinking Midwestern beer and MVP milk, playing ball for thousands (millions?) of adoring fans and watching cable on their 60-inch TV after the game? They may earn very big money, and they may hang out with Miss USA and other such girls, and maybe they benefit from a very good PR department, but these are sports heroes I can get behind. Keep it real, baseball, and I'll keep buying milk.

multi-story rambler

Random Public Library Moment (what? I have a blog? Oh yeah.)

way to break typecasting

encounters with Jesus

Random Public Library Moment

well, I tried.

chalk up

Random Public Library Moment

Yes, I'll eat them in a park! Yes, I'll eat them close to dark!

Would I? Could I?In a car?Eat them! Eat them!Here they are.

Pea pickin' and Canon crunchin'

Big Island ending, abridged

Big Island, Big Fun, part III: Big Sky and Scrap Metal

Happy National Library Week!

Big Island, Big Fun, part II: Hilo to Pepe'ekeo

Big Island, Big Fun, part I: adjusting my contrast

sometimes you wanna go where at least some people know your name

what is this, a key party?

top this, Martha Stewart

can I be a violence prude instead?

March LNO

fun with cataloging

push the button, Frank*

booksites a-plenty, booksites galore

I Love Lucy

yuppies getting younger all the time

talk about your frozen digits!

how macabre

the stories bookmarks could tell

brrrRRR!

paying for commercials

no blogging in a vacuum

At last, I've found her!

Grr! Arg!

When librarians sing carols...

It's an Olive!

Babywatch 07

new ways to ROCK!

when you're an adult, you have to make your own recess

duckie checkmate

Trigger the imaginary cat

...and what kind of doting aunt would I be...

back at it

and a blessed Leon to you, too

pocket archaeology

snow snow snow snow yaaaaaay!!!

today's RPLM

depends on your definition of "coffee"

polka-dotted deep truths

I've had an apostrophe

Ukrainian dance party

amazing, indeed

these are the places in my neighborhood

arming the primates

Best use ever of future perfect tense

like singing in the shower, but shushier

Mr. Ed's Choice Award

one third of my allotted time

So does that make me a pretty big nerd, or a really big nerd?

I don't know, which one's frencher?

The Universal Language of Muzak

big crush and broken heart, all in one weekend

blog slacker

turning over & heading north

more fall fashions

gazing fondly at my sweaters

fun ways to call the kids in for dinner

unexpected connection

Objects of My Affection II: The Complete Harry Potter Collection, UK editions

"We'd like to thank Hormel a lot..."

kettles and sandstone, and a Bridges-R-Us product recall

me and mine are fine

So...you're not a Tampa Bay fan, then?

The phone books are here! The phone books are here!

What I did on my summer vacation, pt. 1

I can quit whenever I want

I read a Barnes & Noble copy for a few hours

keeping my head above water

Accio Deathly Hallows

oh yeah? recognizeTHIS!

Would I? Could I?
In a car?
Eat them! Eat them!
Here they are.