incidentally

nimble new year

2010-12-23T18:52:00.000-08:00

We haven't even crossed off the 25th yet, and here I am typing about 2010's expiration date. Putting the new year's cart in front of the x-mas horse. What can I say. Well, this:

I spent the evening shredding a couple decades worth of paper, months at a time. Years of bills and documentation cross-cut and now filling my navy Sanipac bin with colorful confetti that can never be re-pieced (though any self-respecting spy or crime TV show/movie would somehow manage to repair it with a few hours and half a roll of transparent Scotch tape).

So my file folders are roomy; my house bares more wall and floor space than it has in years. In the middle of the night I walk around my abode and make piles of give-away and toss items. I suspect the fleet of Goodwill donation workers recognize the sound of my car a mile away because this is our typical transaction: "Hello Ms. XXXXXX. Good day to you. Another full car load? Shall we bring out more bins like the last time?"

It's gone. Or nearly. The chaff. The dross. The dead weight. The goal is attainable: pack everything in a van. It will be a nimble, lithe new year for me and St. Joe. We have been ready to leave for a long time now, to chug on down that driveway (slick with fallen leaves in the parallel trenches), to pretend we're not looking back, to start over. At a moment's notice.

"away forever" message

2010-08-07T10:59:00.000-07:00

This is it: my last day after six and a half years. It's not much different than all the rest. I'm drinking tea, have already consumed a maple glazed donut, grabbed money from the safe (legally!), and am waiting for noon when I launch open those giant front doors and am nearly stampeded by eager patrons.

I suppose some bits are different. My belongings are tucked in a box, I'm copying my work music onto my external hard drive (legally!), and I'm tying up loose ends with the ever trusty square knot. My last note to EC keeps growing longer and less coherent, with wacky perpendicular asides that begin with "oh, by the way," and end with "but you won't have to worry about that for a while." Silly, really.

I also set up my final automated e-mail reply so folks trying to reach me after today will know that my disappearance was planned and they ought not call out the bloodhounds. Unless they really like bloodhounds. And calling them. Here is what people will receive in their inboxes immediately after they e-mail me:

This is an automated reply (actually, I'm a squirrel that was hired to monitor & respond to this e-mail account, but I type the exact same message every single time...how's that for consistency!)

Michelle Williams' last day at the Knight Library is Saturday, August 7th. If you are contacting her after that auspicious date, please direct your inquiries (or comments for that matter) to EC, her successor:

Thank you & please do have a lovely day!

Cheers,
Michelle (as typed by the for-hire squirrel)

ghost of a trace of a pale imitation

2010-07-23T15:20:00.000-07:00

all hail sir ritter.

mid week vid

2010-04-21T12:04:00.000-07:00

Yeah, this is all I have for now. A cheating sort of entry: copy embed code & paste & enter brief all baby letters title. Generic apology offered: sorry.

hey marseilles

2010-04-19T18:38:00.000-07:00

Check out this song from an amazing Seattle band. Pass it along if you so choose.

unexpected familiarities

2010-04-08T19:34:00.000-07:00

Today, two patrons I don't know called me: young lady & buddy. The first nickname was uttered politely by a very early twenty-something scruffy faced boy adding campus cash & the second by a possible octogenarian hankering for a lengthy conversation about the bottled water conspiracy.

Both unexpected familiarities caught me off guard. I had a good decade on kind Baby Face, and...well, the opposite was true with Mr. Aquafina (i.e. Pepsi) Is Evil. I might have been less surprised if they had swapped terms of endearment. Maybe.

ghost

2010-04-08T00:52:00.000-07:00

there's a link below. click on it, but only if you're interested in an amazing & sad little duet by the carlile sisters

ghost in this house

junk mail

2010-03-29T21:29:00.000-07:00

There was a second solicitation in the mail today from an SC insurance company, attempting to scare me into purchasing some mortgage protection accidental death coverage from them. It wasn't really a cheerful letter (as you can imagine) and had an ominous opening that highlighted 2008 Injury Facts re: fatal accidents. Here is the worst line: "Since we last wrote you, over 9,000 families have lost a loved one due to a fatal accident."

Thanks, unnamed company with bad form letter writers, but I'm already covered.

a sunny s&g cover

2010-03-22T16:42:00.000-07:00

i might be a fan...

2010-03-21T11:11:00.000-07:00

...of multiple cellos, duets, roy orbison covers, ms. carlile, snoring pups, sun breaks, wireless internet, moss grouted rock walls, baby birds, pulp free orange juice, wool socks with reinforced toes & heels, painted checkerboard wood floors, and blue second-hand zip-ups.

30.8

2010-03-16T20:50:00.000-07:00

I've had rollover minutes for a year now, and I find myself with a stockpile of unused talk-time. Thirty point eight hours to be exact. That is a lot of chatting that I haven't done. Loads of numbers never dialed.

Dealing with rollover minutes (for me) is like going to an all you can eat buffet (except mostly different). One (I'm not in- or ex- cluding myself here, just generalizing about certain human behavior that manifests itself when faced with a row of silver trays full of various food stuffs)...as I was saying, "one" might feel the need/responsibility to get her (note: the telltale pronoun) money's worth by filling several hot white plates. Many times. Eating more than necessary to make the per macaroni noodle cost shrink. Bulk scarfing, if you will.

[poorly thought-out parallel to follow] So, I have these minutes, and I've technically paid for them. Obviously I'm slacking in the calling or answering the phone department, making my per minute cell cost less impressive. I feel the need...or should I say, "one" might feel the need to create a regimen that would chip away at the nearly out-of-hand reserve.

For example, in addition to my regular calling habits (packaged in a single word: negligent), I could talk an extra 10 minutes a day for the next six months to wipe out this growing credit. I don't think I could manage. I'm complete crap on the phone.

Too bad you can't cash extra minutes in the way you would tickets at the arcade. Maybe for a giant stuffed pink bear. Or what if you could donate them to a stranger in need, so instead of offering cans of food, you give an invisible digital packet of 100 minutes? Makes sense. I'd rather sell them (at a reduced price, of course) from the sidewalk...right next to a lemonade stand so that folks could buy a cool beverage to soothe their dry throats after talking for a long while.

I suppose I could just try and reduce my cell phone plan. There's always that possibility.

lavomatik genius

2010-03-15T21:06:00.000-07:00

There should be more Parisian laundromat concerts. In my opinion. They should all be videotaped. With quirky angles that often focus on calf-length boots. Also, the more giant butterfly hair clips the better.

Vandaveer=amazing.

dear norma

2010-03-09T18:37:00.002-08:00

Suddenly, there you were...and you brought a tear to my eye. I can't deny. I didn't know you from adam (nor eve), and yet you were providing me with an unexpected lifeline to the rest of the world. For nearly two years, I have searched and traveled (in my 540sq ft abode), and while I have not ventured far, the bitter and recurring (and yes constant) discovery of defeat was no less painful. That is why today, when I saw your name in a cheerful pop-up bubble, I hollered a tiny bit. Possibly, I jumped up and down with glee. Because you, dear norma, have an unprotected wireless connection quite close to my mini cottage, and I can pick up two bars of connectivity. I don't know you, but I adore you. Thank you, my friend, for your lack of password prowess.

this is the unending prayer about nothing in particular

2010-02-22T08:56:00.000-08:00

okay, really it is a song. i like to imagine that my blog title could have been one of the lyrics left on the cutting room floor by a.a. bondy. by the way: i can't get enough of him lately. it may be obvious.

out of town

2010-02-17T16:15:00.001-08:00

A little desperate for some distance (miles & miles), a change in scenery (e.g. blue sky & mounds of snow), and silence interrupted only by a remote & natural soundtrack (e.g. I wouldn't be opposed to water lapping or gusts rattling windows). Oh, to get out of town. To have some time to cement recent discoveries that led to decisions that will soon lead to a salient (though figurative) departure.

Today, I have no patience & all unruly patrons have shown up at the desk during my shifts. Or so it seems. So I am hiding in my office. Door closed. Listening to my current favorite. AA Bondy. Making schedules. Planning my escape.

trois choses

2010-02-06T14:16:00.000-08:00

Three no-pressure recommendations:

un livre: Tall man: the death of Doomadgee by Chloe Hooper

un film: Departures

une chanson: stop wondering by April Smith and the Great Picture Show

tip of the tongue

2010-02-04T09:42:00.001-08:00

I love late night runs down that old familiar path I know so well, winding through alphabet streets & ducking under low hanging (now empty) branches that reach across alleyway fences & jumping over mini sidewalk mountains (concrete volcanoes exploding but oh so slowly as roots stretch and yearn for freedom) & thinking about that accidental tangent trip around connecticut back roads in a yellow ryder truck, that first mile between me and oklahoma, the cobalt blue trek strapped to the back of my tercel from here to that lake in idaho. Dreaming of a place I don't know yet, a road that will lead me there...a place just on the tip of the tongue. It will come to me. Then I will follow suit.

p.s. 140.31 = amount of campus cash added so far today

toaster thief

2010-02-03T12:42:00.000-08:00

Middle of the week, and it feels a bit like a camera obscura day to me. A little acoustic teenager (vid below) and some live books written for girls (linked...obviously, I suppose).

Ate a school kid sort of lunch around noon: reused brown paper bag stuffed with peanut butter sandwich & apple slices & string cheese & wrinkled wad of periwinkle napkin square. Drinking (clandestinely) a DP and bracing for two to three and all the hours following that will overflow with the same questions and the same answers and sweaty fistfuls of wadded dollars and dirty coins to be handed over the marble transaction work-surface. A swipe of the card, a number, the forceful closure of the drawer. Repeat. If we saved all the receipt paper, at the end of the day we could cross campus without tearing the giant strip of low-grade paper.

Some selfish miscreant stole the toaster from the Daily Grind during the few moments I was (not so clandestinely) purchasing a morning donut. All day, I have eyed backpacks for the tell-tale outline of a moderately sized rectangular appliance. Or a cord ending with three-prong plug trailing from an unzipped satchel.

Thirty minutes.

sprightly but muffled

2010-01-28T09:49:00.000-08:00

QOD about sprightly accommodations made for slumbering neighbors:

Well, we just hurdle quietly.

best five bucks spent

2010-01-27T13:24:00.000-08:00

It was the best five bucks I've spent in a long time. A pittance of a cover charge, really, for an amazing show by Horse Feathers and openers (Betty & the Boy). Sam Bond's Garage ranks high on my list of enjoyable eugene venues. Cozy, wood benches, beers served in mason jars. And the crowd. They behaved splendidly, especially during those quiet moments (and there are many of them with HF) between raucous bits (that occasionally featured a saw as instrument and the banjo player managing double duty on the drums) when I found myself leaning forward to hear mr. ringle solo his way through a bridge that consisted of equal parts silence and singing. During the drawn out pauses between words, you could hear: glass jars clinking as they were hauled off in a gray tubs, a bottle cap removed, the cash register's ratchety cough before the till thudded open almost reluctantly (possibly a little grudgingly).

Five dollars went a long way at sbg last sunday evening.

stamp from show:

love is a hazard in lower manhattan

2010-01-27T08:58:00.000-08:00

So says Hey Marseilles.

throw like a girl

2010-01-18T14:24:00.000-08:00

I have a new favorite writer. Don't worry, other favs of mine, no one is kicked out of the club. Just think of her as a new friend for you. Please go easy on her with your initiation rites (the cream pie in the face was not well received by Jhumpa Lahiri, who graciously accepted your epic apologies, mainly because they had cleverly intertwined excerpts from the odyssey and calvin and hobbes).

The newest member of the club is Jean Thompson. I met her last week when I checked in her book Throw Like a Girl. My job does have some perks (i.e. the books).

Anyway. I opened it up, intrigued by the title and the delicate flowery border on the spine, and this is the first paragraph I read:

But I couldn't stop crying. The sadness had gotten too deep inside of me. That first sadness, which comes from family, and never entirely goes away.

That excerpt as introduction and a story titled Pie of the Month pretty much required me to check out the book. And track down two more. As you have guessed, we have gotten on quite well and are destined to be good pals. After all, I officially invited Ms. Thompson to my favorite writers club. I haven't heard back from her yet. I'm sure I will soon.

last music post

2010-01-13T10:27:00.000-08:00

...for today. mumford & sons. I'm a fan.

drink up buttercup

2010-01-13T09:35:00.000-08:00

This song has been stuck in my head for two and a half days. Beware.

DUB has an album coming out in March. I can't wait. And yet, I will. Here's hoping Eugene will be on the list of spring tour destinations...

often (or usually)

2009-12-26T22:25:00.000-08:00

The truth. When people say, "I just want what's best for you," it often (or usually) means what they think is best. And typically (or most of the time) they are immovable regarding definition and appropriate interpretation of best. I'm guilty as well. I might claim (or even believe) that my intentions are pure and altruistic (ha!) to the very core when, of course, they are built on a shaky foundation (sandy and not topple resistant): one part self-interest and another equal portion of blindsided superiority.

Two zero one zero (or 2010) is in the blocks, all tense with anticipation, aware that crazy loud starting pistol will fire soon. And I am staring at my digital timex, waiting. Subtracting five minutes because it's set a little fast. I don't think that tearing that last month off the yearly (not fiscal) calendar is really any more substantive a milestone than the last month or the one before. Or all the ones that will follow. Months stacked with equally drawn days that are not one size fits all, and the best way for me to fill them will likely not be the best way for you.

Still, perhaps there will be some happy (& some moderately pleasant) moments of overlap and intersection...and we can view the little venn diagrams of our days with an open mind (e.g. "huh! well I'm sure glad to see that particular non-shaded oval section!") and an appreciative smile (because, really, baby venn diagrams are adorable).

So. A preemptive (not premature) new year's toast. To baby venn diagrams. Mixed metaphors. And tiny slices of pumpkin pie to cheer up insomniacs.

blogotheque strikes again

2009-11-27T10:45:00.001-08:00

First Aid Kit - A Take Away Show from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.

verbatim

2009-11-27T10:29:00.000-08:00

This Day After Thanksgiving (DAT) patron transaction just happened at the Checkout Desk. I had a word document open and was able to type exactly what the pink knit cap wearing woman said to the clerk on duty. Here it is. Verbatim.

When I was a little girl, I swung from a church steeple, and I hurt this arm. So it still hurts, and I have to be careful how much I carry in my purse. I still will carry little things like a hairbrush or a lipstick or two, but I can't carry much else. That's why I guess I can't check out all these books because it would weigh me down too much, and the old hurt from the steeple will come back in sharp little pains right at my wrist and then eventually work up to my shoulder and neck. The last time that happened I had to wait a good three weeks before I even tried to lift something heavier than a toothbrush or piece of paper in that hand. It was really inconvenient. So...can I only check out this little blue book? I really want this one, too, but it's a lot bigger and has a ton more pages so I probably shouldn't risk it today.

What followed was a pretty basic discussion of fines and hypothetical situations involving thievery (What if this book is stolen? How much will it cost then? What if the book is stolen and then returned, but it's damaged? How much then?).

I was so curious to hear the story about swinging from the church steeple. But I didn't run out to ask. I wish I had.

bcb on worldcafe

2009-11-20T12:37:00.001-08:00

vandaveer + blogotheque = deluxe

2009-11-17T15:09:00.001-08:00

Vandaveer - Woolgathering / Roman Candle - A Take Away Show from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.

qod

2009-11-05T14:55:00.000-08:00

Quote of the Day from a departmental meeting:

"Patrons have new ways of not finding things."

premium bcb & pals vid

2009-10-25T19:28:00.000-07:00

dough obsession & miscellany

2009-10-14T12:19:00.000-07:00

I recently learned how to make dough* and I find that I can't stop making pizzas. I love kneading and how that stretching ball of dough feels warm after rising and the smell of yeast and floury hand prints on my flowery apron.

My mom used to make all our bread when we were growing up, and my current baking tendencies (see above) take me back to that unfinished basement kitchen in Portland where exposed pipe joints were wrapped in light yellow (formerly white) bread towels to help soften the blow when you ran into those four-inch diameter monstrosities. Or when my pop did, I should say.

In that faux kitchen, it was pretty much a given that he would knock his noggin at least once a day without even trying. I'll have you know that my dad is amazing. He can hit his head on just about anything. When other people fail to run into a low hanging branch or overhang or bridge, he effortlessly makes contact.

I only jest because he does as well, and because it's a running family joke. And because it's my duty as a daughter: one I cannot ignore.

Some notes to close this hopscotching little entry: my shed still lives in the middle of my yard, we have survived the hectic start of fall term, I am now the sort of person who listens to LPs, and next week I will hit the road with a friendly gang of fellow fans to support Brandi & Band on their new tour. In our wake, autumn-y leaves will swirl and spin and imagine they can return to their former homes until they finally settle into the corners between curbs and asphalt.

*from master chefs ms & gj

favorite park bench

2009-09-16T13:03:00.001-07:00

scone wizards

2009-09-15T20:07:00.001-07:00

checkout desk gift-wrapped

2009-09-14T19:05:00.000-07:00

value assigned with font size

2009-09-12T11:51:00.001-07:00

super sandwich

2009-09-09T18:16:00.000-07:00

Today there were loads of dangerous blunt edges and sharp & pointy attitudes. So when I arrived home, I mashed together my new favorite sandwich. I say "mash" because it was so giant that I had to squish it a bit just to manage a bite. On my 7-grain (toasted) bread I placed the following: mozarella cheese, tomatoes, bacon, fried egg, and avocado. I set off the fire alarm. Twice. Had a near miss with a dropped paring knife. But it was worth it. The sandwich was Delicious. Possibly because my day was crap. Possibly because my stomach was rumbly and empty. Most likely because of the bacon.

missing: 1 shed

2009-09-02T18:49:00.000-07:00

I pulled down my driveway. Parked on the gravel in front of the shed. As I always do. Except. The shed is missing. In its place is a hole exposing sewer pipes. My shed (upon further examination) is in the middle of my yard. Doors facing the neighbors to the east. Also one of the branches from the giant pine tree is busted and next to my relocated wheelbarrow. And a section of fence is damaged.

I have no idea who was traipsing about my yard. No I do. I think it must have been SUB. But why? Busted pipe? Also I'd really like to know why they didn't contact me about this work. Or even leave a flipping note to explain. I'm a little pissed to tell you the truth. Not to mention embarrassed. My yard is a disaster. Some might even say unkempt.

pledge card

2009-09-01T21:17:00.001-07:00

Filled out a strike pledge card today. Broke one of my tiny glasses while washing dishes. Did not drink any coffee. Did, however, consume a three o' clock slump dr. pepper. Purchased groceries (including lemons and yumm sauce) using an electronic list. Responded to an e-mail from my favorite band. Started setting up interviews for the fall term newbie LSAs, finally admitting to myself that the school year will begin. Chased a squirrel across kincaid street. Sang along a bit too loudly with Mr. Johnny Cash. About my folsom prison blues. And wrote this invisibly-bulleted list about a run of the mill Tuesday that I insisted on referring to as Monday.

face of a fugitive

2009-08-29T12:27:00.000-07:00

Just before the woman in the loose sleeved rosebud print cardigan snapped the photo, I followed several (very important and logical) thoughts like a hungry squirrel snatching up nearly edible bread crumbs trailing off into a heavily wooded forest.

How should I smile? Have I worn a photogenic t-shirt? Are my glasses tilting? Is this the picture I want to show to grocery store clerks and bouncers seated on stools outside bars? Most importantly, is this the face I want flashed up on news bulletins nationwide when I'm wrongly accused of some heinous crime by a secret society that wants to get rid of me because I stumbled across evidence of their wrongdoing while researching a story for the local news rag? Should I look menacing so strangers leave me alone while I'm on the lam and seeking proof of my innocence? Or should I look innocent so a trusting farmer will take pity on me and let me sleep in the hay loft so I'm not ensnared by law enforcement officials who are on the payroll of the aforementioned secret society?

Of course that's what I'm worrying about while having my picture taken for my new driver's license. Doesn't everyone?

nostalgia's air-brushed shores

2009-08-28T23:34:00.000-07:00

Trying to recreate the past is an ill-advised course. I know this. And yet I still fall for damn nostalgia's siren song every time I steer my ship dangerously close to its glossy and air-brushed shores. Only to find shallow and rocky channels and glaring imperfections when up close. Some day I'll learn to change direction. And to keep my mouth shut. One can only hope. Whatever. I have cupcakes that are begging for chocolate frosting. Off to rustle up some powdered sugar.

i love google docs

2009-08-25T11:31:00.000-07:00

I want to marry Google Documents. They make my job so much easier. I can create online forms to query my little worker bees for class schedules, piece together an online fall schedule in Excel with instant updates for all my students in far off lands to view, and publish all my daily desk lineups for the week ahead. And now, I can even create online training presentations, embed them in the Circ Blog and share with other library supervisors.

[insert me swooning here]

I'm in love. With Google Documents.

proof of birth

2009-08-23T09:46:00.000-07:00

Time to accept the loss and move on. Figure out how to find a new one so a gal can be legal behind the wheel for a few more years.

So I lost my birth certificate. I have rifled through plastic storage bins at least three times, my file cabinet a couple times more, and I even pulled every book from the case and flipped through the pages. Hope dwindling with each livre until finally I shook the last book, my illustrated copy of Connecticut Yankee upsidedown. No dice, as some folks say. I have no proof of birth, and Oregon residents now need some of that when renewing a driver's license. So now the proverbial (really? proverbial?) countdown and test of both the USPS & vital records office begins.

All this papework rifling has been shocking and fitting. Shocking in that I can't believe how much memorabiliac (ha!) crap I kept/keep and fitting because I may as well look back and take stock this time of year. One of the wackiest finds was the letter from Luke Gordon, my first little boyfriend in third grade. He wrote me from summer camp and drew a picture of a massive yet spindly spider on his stationary. Ah, young love. Nothing says I yearn for you like a picture of a multicolored and extra legged yellow spider.

When I do eventually make it to the welcoming and homey DMV, I think I might dress up for my picture. Maybe sport a fauxhawk. A courdoroy jumper. My peacock feather hat. We'll see. I do know that when that time comes, I will set my birth certificate on that laminate counter. A little defiant but mostly defeated by the state of Oregon and also the state of my filing system.

pump workouts storyboard

2009-08-21T16:39:00.001-07:00

pump workouts storyboard

I think this will be the next thighmaster, but bigger & better & lacking all 80s workout gear.

return of the assiduous qod (quote of the day)

2009-08-20T15:18:00.000-07:00

"You haven't lived until you have been heckled by a yokel carny."

"As if just birthed of a kiln." re. newish coffee mug

I need to point out that I am a huge, huge fan of not working on Saturdays. And Creme de Menthe Altoids. And Google Docs. Free music. Lakes. Bike pumps. Flax. Tomatoes from the garden (especially someone else's garden). Cake.

I really, really like cake. Not these cakes, though.

Also, the next time someone calls me Michelle, I am going to sing the "That's not my name" song. Better practice tonight.

strange censorship technique

2009-08-12T18:48:00.000-07:00

I recommend not buying a lottery ticket today. Wednesday the 12th was (I use past tense in an attempt to hasten its disappearance) a giant unlucky 24-hr receptacle of one wacky incident after another. Lost keys and fire alarms, residual headaches and extra desk hours topped off with mini power outages and strobe lights in the hallway, and the grand finale of a reported library book stuffed in a men's toilet on the first floor.

I should be embarrased (but I'm not) to admit that when I asked one of my students to verify the "monograph stuck in toilet" story, I also asked him if there was any way to see the title or call number without touching the book. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news. He couldn't make out any visible access points for the poor item wedged in a not so sanitary porcelain fixture. No 245 or even half of a main entry. When facilities arrived, the book had been removed so we will never unravel the mystery of the strange case of watery censorship.

documentary recommendation

2009-07-30T22:10:00.000-07:00

Just watched a documentary, one I would recommend without hesitation: Promises. Perhaps you've already seen it. If so, why haven't you told me about it?

upei written warning

2009-07-30T16:16:00.001-07:00

My Canadian roomie was an RA. Poor thing had to live with me. (For the record, the incidents described below never happened.)

forgive me, red bull

2009-07-20T22:41:00.000-07:00

Over three weeks since my last energy drink (forgive me red bull for I have strayed…it has been many days since my last chilled silver, red and blue beverage) & only three beers consumed in the last two months. And so it begins. There will be similar tallies of abandonments & misdirections & selective trimming.

Today is a red letter day. To commemorate I did not wear my formal scarlet robes, but instead my favorite t-shirt (now tea stained) and cargo shorts. Hunkered down for detailed line entries & practicing tactful ways to say, "Sorry, I can't."

singles vaccine

2009-07-17T23:05:00.000-07:00

After a quick pop-in for basic necessities at a nearby grocery store, I walked by their little pharmacy as I headed toward the automatic swooshing doors that would usher me back into the thick hot air (slowly cooling) on the tail end of a 90 plus degree day. Outside the pharmacy was a sign with two words in thick block letters: singles vaccine.

I was stumped. Was it meant for singles to protect them from whatever symptoms accompany the state of being unattached? Or to protect partnered folks from the singles? It took long enough to formulate these queries that I passed the sign before I reached the final question mark. So I had to turn around to discover the sign's real message: Shingles vaccine.

Oh how that simple little h could change the meaning and purpose of that shot of prevention. I'm glad no one will be rolling up their sleeve (or worse yet, dropping their pants) anytime soon. Or ever.

bar-tabac observations

2009-07-16T15:38:00.001-07:00

From French Revolutions by Tim Moore (a book that will likely make you laugh out loud, or at least guffaw internally with such force that others will notice):

Anyway, perhaps because bar-tabacs are almost by definition the domain of lonely people looking for company, I never failed to attract a circle of admirers. I suppose it was like being chatted up. Conversations of the what's-a-nice-boy-like-you variety were instantly struck up, and I quickly established that (a) the Tour had last passed through la Trimouille thirty-three years ago; (b) it was a pity Michel from the garage wasn't here, because he had a load of pictures from back then; and (c) if you want to win the heart of a wet English cyclist, try combing the breakfast remnants from your moustache and smelling slightly less of sick.

qod re: formaldehyde

2009-07-04T12:26:00.000-07:00

Yesterday's QOD (quote of the day) from one of my favorite student workers MK:

"I found a shirt that doesn't hold the smell of cadaver."

Frightening and funny.

stinky cheese stands alone

2009-07-03T12:20:00.000-07:00

All other OUS (Oregon University System) libraries are closed today because tomorrow is the fourth. Even the UW library is closed.

We are so smart here at the UO to stay open, spending money from our student budgets and paying to keep the place lit and the equipment running from 8am-7pm today when only a handful of people will use our services. It's a good thing we're not in the middle of a recession.

If we were playing that peppy children's game The Farmer in the Dell, we would be the cheese. We would be stinky, and we would most certainly stand alone.

I am bitter (just in case you didn't notice).

la blogotheque + fleet foxes = jolly good

2009-07-01T13:51:00.000-07:00

Also good: watching this VID on a tiny break.

saturday sketch

2009-06-27T20:44:00.001-07:00

Drawn by LSA KS.

Today we ate gummy bears. Almost ordered pizza. Checked books in. And yes checked some of them out again. Warned about due dates and recalls. Recited weekend hours about five million times and then to top it all off added just under a hundred bucks in campus cash on ID cards in various states of disrepair, usually dangling from a green and yellow lanyard and weighted down with a bouquet of jangling keys that gets in the way as you attempt to run the black swipe stripe through the machine.

We are changing the world one mind-numbing scan or swipe at a time…is the mantra looping in my mind right before I say (for the millionth time), "Your balance is [fill in the amount here]."

near or far

2009-06-21T15:20:00.000-07:00

When people are far away, it can be difficult to know if they are walking towards you or away from you. Usually if you keep walking, you can figure out which one is true because the other person either gets closer, growing larger and features more defined. Or they shrink and are flattened, merging with the horizon and disappearing. Sometimes, though, you turn a corner or enter a building or lose sight of the distant stranger in a crowd before you know whether your paths might have crossed.

and finally

2009-06-10T13:55:00.000-07:00

Finals week, and my office has been hit by a tornado.

Not much to report. Except I need a haircut and have mullet and sideburn concerns. And everyone is leaving--so many of my deluxe students graduating. This finals week is even more appropriately named than the other two this academic year.

So, in honor of the end of the year and finality and all the adios-ing happening in the narrow walkway behind the Checkout Desk, I post one last entry from my old blog before deleting it forever. [insert me, tipping my hat to Incidentals, the hunched over, halted-step-taking old blog from yesteryear]

=========================================
Stolen Doormat

Though the first thoughts that traveled through my mind included (but were not limited to) "rat bastards," I really am more amused than upset that someone has stolen my doormat. It was nothing fancy--a brown, bristly rectangle that seemed to attract floating clumps of cat fur.

The apartment just across the way still has a lovely lady-bug mat tucked up against its threshold. It is much more stylish than my plain Jane boot-scraper. I wonder if it is a personal vendetta? Perhaps my downstairs neighbor is angry with me. I wake at 5:00 in the morning, and he doesn't seem to stir before 7:30. I try to tiptoe about, gently pulling a glass mug out of the cupboard without clinking it against the other mugs. The harder I try to be silent, the louder I am.

So my theory about the missing property involves a covert operation: my downstairs nemesis dressed in black, a flashlight's jittery yellowish circle on my cement gray landing, and finally my doormat tucked under my neighbor's arm as he runs down the stairs.

retraction

2009-05-31T22:14:00.000-07:00

p.s. I will never mock the food pyramid again. Also I don't think I'll drink w'09 or baileys for a very very long time. And never together.

mocking the food pyramid

2009-05-29T20:06:00.000-07:00

I felt so healthy, eating that plate full of salad for dinner. Well, at least until I polished off a few W'09s. Talk about a well-rounded meal: vegetables and Widmer hoppy goodness.

I mock you, Food Pyramid!

previous life supposition

2009-05-29T15:14:00.000-07:00

Check out Grizzly Bear, courtesy of the Black Cab Sessions. It's a grand performance. Also enjoyable: Peter Bjorn & John, Spoon, Ane Brun. They are deluxe, stripped-down versions with a moving backdrop of the city and its unaware inhabitants.

I think, in another life, I was an amazing musician. So amazing that I used up all my talent, and in this life I'm left only with the ability to enjoy others as they play the guitar and harmonize and maybe sway a little with their eyes closed, pausing before the last refrain that they hold just a few extra seconds before rejoining the rest of the world.

special olympics unified softball

2009-05-26T20:49:00.000-07:00

I'm drinking a W'09, eating a turkey and provolone hoagie. My glove on the chest by the door is dusty from cleaning off home plate an hour ago. My eyes feel gritty and I have a protective layer on me consisting of one part sweat, one part sunburn, one part third base line chalk. I'll de-stink soon but for now I'm enjoying a satisfying exhaustion and a warmth inside and out. The best. Special olympics unified softball.

let the gorilla lead

2009-05-24T21:27:00.001-07:00

The reader board at Trinity Baptist on the first stretch of my morning run: If your (yes, minus punctuation and an e) dancing with a gorilla let it lead. Isaiah 58:11

By the time I circled back on my return trip, they had changed the quote. I wonder if someone complained that it was confusing or inappropriate. Maybe a group united to stop forcing gorillas to dance.

I looked the verse up in my tiny bible from high school and there is no mention of dancing. Or gorillas for that matter.

point of origin

2009-05-22T23:09:00.000-07:00

You know those moments that make it easy to get off the fence about a decision or an issue or when you're trying to choose between lemon or chocolate cake? They can be so great.

They remind me of when my ears finally pop after my flight lands and the hazy, gauzy filter disappears so I can understand what people are saying to me again; or that instant you surface after swimming underwater for one and a half laps at the Wilson High olympic size pool and all the warbly shouts from above become clear again; or when you have a light-bulb revelation in grade school about fractions as you sit at a desk covered in multi-colored construction paper pie pieces. But I'm getting lost in excessive (and far from taut) metaphors.

Back to those moments of clarity. Those moments in your time line that will have a thick hash mark and a specific date written below to signify its importance. As a milestone. As a turning point. As a crucial contributing factor that altered your trajectory, even if only by a millimeter. It is a moment that you'll never forget so when someone asks in a few months about the change's point of origin, you can answer without a pause: Thursday, May 21st. Google Calendar was involved.

operation tame yard

2009-05-21T21:16:00.000-07:00

The next two weeks: a mis-matched hodgepodge schedule. Then end of term and start of summer as well as Operation Tame Yard. Because it's out of control. Because it's embarassing. Because I want my house prepped and ready to sell so I can unload this shack as soon as I can do it without losing my shirt. I like my shirt.

no stupid question phliosophy

2009-05-13T11:36:00.000-07:00

I'm a staunch supporter of the "no stupid question" (NSQ) philosophy (mainly because I'm responsible for about 45% of questions that might be labeled as less than intelligent). Lately, even I find my belief system (of aforementioned NSQ philosophy) and ability to squelch laughter put to the test. I blame it on my constant close proximity to the public and also on the rather rainy Spring.

On Saturday, a kind and unintentionally hilarious patron asked at the Library's Checkout Desk, "Um, have you by any chance seen a group of people studying in here?"

Let me just say that it's a good thing I was pulling old items from the hold shelf because excessive mirth struck me (and left a mark). When the coast was clear, the student worker and I looked at each other and pretty much bust up laughing, but carefully so no one would hear us. After all, the library also supports the NSQ.

urge to suppress

2009-05-05T16:14:00.000-07:00

Yet another blast from the past. I miss fixed fields. I see them all the time at work, but it's a "look and don't touch" type situation. Is it strange that I have a recurring desire to suppress records in the catalog?

Yes, yes I know the answer.

June 24, 2004
Arm wrestling over suppression codes

Today, there has been a flurry of e-mails and phone conversations as we wrestle over fixed field codes. BCode 3 is my personal favorite--a powerful little code that can suppress the whole bib record. ICode 2 comes in a close second.

"So you want to suppress locally, contribute, and suppress in the union catalog? Or maybe you want to display locally and not contribute? Or are you living on the edge and hoping to suppress locally to be deleted later, contribute and suppress in the union catalog? Well, you've come to the right place."

Oh boy, I need to get out more often. Listening to debate over codes m, n---and the ever tricky r--well, it's made me a bit batty.

time capsule

2009-05-04T13:31:00.000-07:00

Buried on an old flash drive: my first blog called Incidentals. The precursor to Incidentally. There weren't many entries. About 30. That mysterious and obscurely-titled folder (old_entries) was like a mini digital time capsule. Not a well-planned or representative sampling, but still interesting. I'll share a few...and not all today, don't worry.

June 29, 2004
Iraq Hangover

I keep seeing the title on the news in thick block letters: Iraq Handover. Everytime, though, I read "Hangover" instead of Handover. Perhaps it's because I have a miniature TV (Tom Thumb comes over occasionally) and I can't read the print quite clearly. Or maybe Hangover is a more appropriate word, a more adequate word, a foreshadowing of dizziness, nausea and headaches.

Maybe I just need an updated prescription for the ol' spectacles.

I wonder what the "hair of the dog" would be for this hangover.

accidental water thief

2009-05-01T16:21:00.000-07:00

I can't keep it a secret any longer: I stole a 16oz bottle of Aquafina from the Hudson News cubby at the LAX American Airlines terminal. I am a water thief. Waiting for a connecting flight back to Portland, I wandered into the little airport convenience store, grabbed a water halfheartedly and then walked around, trying to decide if I wanted something to eat. Really, I was just filling the time. I picked up a few books, read the blurbs on the back. Eavesdropped on an interesting exchange at the register between two teenage girls and the cashier that involved trying several credit cards before a gray-haired man in a matching track suit came to their rescue with his own plastic card that worked.

In the midst of all the commotion and aimlessness, I forgot that I had pulled a bottle from the cooler and just walked out of the store. No one yelled after me (Thief!) or called security or chased me down. Turns out I was so effective at wasting time that they were boarding the plane when I made it back to the gate. It wasn't until I was in my spacious EXIT row window seat, securing the water in the little elastic-lined seat-back pouch in front of me that I realized I was a water thief. I think I said "Ah, crap" out loud and my neighbor turned to look at me. I'm glad he didn't ask what was wrong because I didn't want to admit to anyone, even a stranger, that I was a criminal.

Two nights ago, I wrote an apology letter and included two dollars. I sent them to: Los Angeles International Airport, ATTN: HUDSON NEWS @ TERMINAL 3 (ALASKA AIRLINES), 1 World Way, Los Angeles, CA 90045. Instead of my name, I wrote Accidental Water Thief in the return address area.

They should receive my confession in a few days, so hopefully I'm only just a short-term water thief.

the new carrot

2009-04-27T13:36:00.000-07:00

June is the new carrot. In the meantime, one must keep speeding around the track, enjoying occasional previews (see video below).

au revoir

2009-04-15T12:42:00.000-07:00

Leaving very soon to cheer on the marathon qualifier. I like to call him Clark Kent. Superhuman strength and speed. So it's an appropriate fake name then. Not quite a pseudonym or secret identity. More unauthorized nickname.

Will not miss: campus cash transactions, schedule changes, lazy reserve book requesters, scenery behind the Checkout desk, wet-erase marker on my hands.

So excited for friends and spring and distance and a cold beer and Thai and new music and coffee while wandering aimlessly.

addicted

2009-04-08T11:18:00.000-07:00

I can't get enough of this song. It's true.

QOD (quote of the day)

2009-04-01T12:01:00.000-07:00

Yesterday's QOD:

"There were some serious swear words in that snap." (re: KL's reaction after bowling a frame)

checkin juxtaposition

2009-03-28T10:10:00.001-07:00

Some of the items I checked in at the library yesterday (in order of check-in):

TV Guide (6 bound vols from 1997)
Witches' Bible
Making Sense of Nietzsche
Conrad Kohrs: an autobiography (Conrad: "Montana's Cattle King")
The Poetics of Transubstantiation (great wafer recipes in this gem)
European Identity in Cinema
Handbook of Creativity
A History of Scottish Medicine (the whole history fit in 282 pages)
Controversies in Voting Behavior (a quick scan of the book did NOT reveal the word "squirrely")
One Thousand Exercises in Probability
Understanding Wisdom
Write Like a Chemist (no handwriting samples in this book unfortunately)

lack of specifics leads to snarkiness

2009-03-18T14:16:00.000-07:00

I love that patrons think so highly of library staff that they assume we've memorized call numbers for the 1,600+ books in the Reserve Room. They always ask for a textbook for a class, but they can't remember the exact title or the author's last name, but they know it's around the corner on one of the stacks. Not so helpful, really.

I had many of those encounters this morning. My favorite involved a (somewhat snarky) reply. After the patron provided a few of the key words from the title (they were both nouns at least) and the color of the book (dark orange) and pointed to the area the book was located the last time they checked it out, I said (a little too emphatically): "Oh, that book!"

Then I admitted I really didn't know the book's call number and showed the patron how to find it in our new-fangled online catalog. I was not a good public services librarian person today, and I have to admit I sort of liked it.

firing range

2009-03-17T14:01:00.000-07:00

On Monday I called my sister using my pock-marked (because I regularly drop it in my gravel driveway) silver motorolla flip phone. She answered: "I'm going to need to call you back. I'm on the firing range taking a proficiency test."

She still hasn't called me back. Worrisome.

mutiny, i promise you

2009-03-08T14:34:00.000-07:00

No more internet at my abode, and although I tried walking my computer around every square inch of my house (don't worry, there aren't many inches to cover), I found no free wifi to borrow. Thus the lack o' blogging lately.

I think the break was good, though. Incidentally and I had been a bit on edge and snarky with each other for the last month or so. There were endless complaints about untidy formatting or improper linking to other sites, and I was in the doghouse about some "template makes you look squashed" comment. Typical things like that, driving us apart. Things are looking up after a month-long break. I didn't blog anywhere else (even though we were on a break), and I think our relationship is on the mend.

I'll try and catch up on events that should not be missed (e.g. karaoke at Red Lion, haircut adventures, tuneage, dessert gatherings, knitting mockumentaries, kickball shenanigans, coffee table books, etc.) but I can't promise anything. Except that I will continue to love coffee and chocolate. Also, if this cold weather continues: mutiny will be unavoidable.

gladys: not a teetotaler

2009-02-11T16:28:00.000-08:00

Prepare yourself: this clip is hilarious from beginning to end.

addiction

2009-02-04T00:25:00.000-08:00

I'm addicted to knitting hats. W09. Live music. Cake. Kind souls. Cushy socks. Cheesy jokes. Unusually small books. And extra fine tip ink pens.

stalin & msg

2009-01-29T09:20:00.000-08:00

Two outstanding Quotes of the Day from yesterday:

"I can go back to Stalin. He hasn't been cataloged yet."
re: scouring a new library book for proof that the rumors of a secret third wife are true

"I had a craving for MSG."
re: purchase of bad Chinese food

barcode herding

2009-01-29T09:08:00.000-08:00

Yep, it really was on my To-Do-List to herd barcodes at work. There are no words (at least currently at my censor-conscious disposal) to adequately express how much I love my job. Just when I think my feelings about this place have peaked, five drama-laden minutes pass, and I realize the plateau is not in sight quite yet.

shallow impressions

2009-01-18T18:33:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I overheard three men chatting as they walked away from the library. The middle fellow wearing a gold and burgundy rugby shirt commented: "When I first saw him at practice, I said to myself, who is this pear-shaped guy with man breasts?"

It really bugged me, so I interrupted and gave quite the speech about shallow first impressions.

Okay, I didn't really. Should have. Someone else might have said: "Unacceptable."

green line fork

2009-01-12T23:39:00.000-08:00

The green line out to Brookline after a Sunday at the library. Standing in the Boylston station, trying to decide which tine of the green line fork to use. Factoring in which branch offered the earliest departure, the emptiest cars, the fastest delivery to my sublet waiting atop the narrow road a few blocks away from Beacon street.

B to Boston College with its five thousand stops on that snaking, poorly lit stretch. Where I always exited two stops too soon. Or too late.

The C branch in the middle of the fork, riding to the very end where the train rode the little track culdesac at Cleveland Circle before heading on its return trip downtown, past the StarMart, the synagogue, the 80s inspired condos, the modest French bakery and Anna's tacqueria. Past the little sports bar with its loft-like second floor that could seat about 3 1/2 people.

Or the D traveling towards Riverside, following suburbanish backyard fences corralling trampolines and goalpost tubing and swingsets. A longer walk home and fewer times listed on the schedule, but also fewer stops along the way.

Some nights, all brain blurry, cocooned in my mp3 music player protection and liberating anonymity, I would have trouble deciding. Letting several trains pass because surely the next would be the right one. The best one. Sometimes, it never came. So I would climb the stairs back to street level, past the Dunkin' Donuts, pulling the straps of my backpack a little tighter, and making the hour plus walk home.

Good thing I like walking.

invisible band

2009-01-11T23:01:00.000-08:00

The intro cracks me up, and I'm a fan of the song.

I have an invisible band in my head, too. Yesterday, they played Whitney Houston (think Bodyguard soundtrack). My invisible band doesn't know many songs, so they often repeat cover tunes. Over and over and over again.

sunday's on the phone to monday

2009-01-11T22:18:00.000-08:00

This afternoon a sudden and overwhelming urge to listen to my Abbey Road CD had me ransacking my own house. I didn't find the CD, but I found:

my Bi-mart card from Monmouth
a $10 bill some sneaky person slipped in my travel music case (I have no idea who)
my laminated Eugene street map with my last trip outlined in purple ink (wet-erase marker)
two AAA batteries leaking in an old remote for a TV I don't own
a baby blue Teletubbies poster from France

No listening to the Polythene Pam/Mr. Mustard/Bathroom window medley today. Perhaps tomorrow.

new poplar nemesis

2009-01-05T16:03:00.000-08:00

Poplars and I do not get along. At all. This time, it's my neighbor's tree shedding its unhealthy bits on and near my house. I had a chat with my new giant nemesis, asking that it discard its branches safely to the east in the wide open portion of my yard. I think it really heard me. Really.

vested

2009-01-04T08:46:00.000-08:00

The fifth of this month marks my fifth year at the library. In addition to the glory that accompanies (like a friendly & not-for-hire tuxedo clad escort) that milestone, I will be vested in PERS. To celebrate, I won't go to work (mainly because I don't work on Mondays), and I will wear my favorite fancy pants navy vest out on the town (really just to the grocery store).

So now if the folks who run NaNoWriMo finally cave (after the thousands of cover letters and resumes I've sent them) and offer me a job, I won't lose my loads of retirement moola when I say "YES please, kind people."

anastrophe

2008-12-31T10:43:00.000-08:00

Word of the day: anastrophe.

One of the most famous (I'm probably not making that up) anastrophists, Yoda, said: "Named must your fear be before banish it you can."

I'm afraid of scorpions. Not 2009.

Draws near does the end. Only ten hours left.

end time illustrations

2008-12-30T17:37:00.000-08:00

The picture book I mentioned earlier was returned, and thank goodness I was walking through the ILL office at the exact moment it was being processed. I rarely walk through that office anymore, so it really is lucky. I took some horrible cell phone pics. But they're better than nothing.

double agent days

2008-12-29T22:41:00.000-08:00

I love Tuesdays that are actually Fridays. Double agent days. Yes, I know them well. I meet them in dark alleys. On park benches. At the racetrack while betting a gold dollar on that Kentucky thoroughbred Lime In The Coconut. We tuck messages inside crumpled paper bags and drop them behind trash cans. We slip tiny flash drives (hidden in the fake shell of a peanut M&M) casually into satchels when no one is looking.

We own decoder rings and special pen lights to illuminate riddles scrawled in equally special ink. We never make eye contact, and have only seen each other peripherally and typically from behind dark glasses or in store window reflections.

I saw tomorrow across the grassy quad at lunch (out of the corner of my eye, naturally), and I smirked. Undetected by all except that sly little double agent day. It knew that I knew that it knew. It is Friday.

A quick warning: Watch out for triple agents (Fridays that are Mondays that are actually Thursdays). They cannot be trusted.

cousin vito's b-day movie

2008-12-23T09:15:00.000-08:00

This is not a video from Vito's celebration. I don't know Vito. I do know that you have to be sneaky and super stealthy when posting this song on YouTube because of that crazy little thing called copyright infringement. That's why, if you happen to watch this in YouTube, you will see the hilarious title: My Cousin Vito's Birthday Party.

beaverton backyard

2008-12-22T14:46:00.000-08:00

My parents' backyard in Beaverton, Oregon.

snowy morn

2008-12-19T07:53:00.000-08:00

When this happens, we are lucky and have a two-hour delay (THD). I ate a THD egg and bagel sandwich with tea, the heat dish aimed in my direction. Better get ready to bundle up and brave the elements. (Who says brave the elements anymore. I do.)

false advertising

2008-12-18T16:03:00.001-08:00

Intersession is like those magical products advertised on TV. Once you see them close up, you realize they're actually crap. With no warranty protection.

m&tns&ss

2008-12-17T18:33:00.000-08:00

J'adore la blogotheque et cette chanson by Margot and the Nuclear So & Sos.

Margot and the Nuclear So & So's - As Tall as cliffs - A Take Away Show from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.

manic monday

2008-12-15T01:49:00.000-08:00

Just about 2am and it's snowing. I'm drinking coffee & Bailey's while the heat dish glowers from across the room, presumably upset for having to work at this hour. Next door, the motion sensor flood light is triggered as Princess heads outside. Manic Monday sticks in my head (and has been repeating since EC serenaded at the checkout desk last week). I think I might walk to the 711 for chocolate. Peanut butter twix.

between terms

2008-12-08T10:46:00.000-08:00

Finals week. Finally. Followed by? Yes, intersession. Ever since the end of August, I've been holding onto that little square occupied by December 12th (the last day of the term) like it is a life preserver. Silly. But true.

apocalyptic picture book

2008-12-04T10:53:00.000-08:00

The following picture book lived on our holdshelf for a couple of days: A Visual Study of the Book of Revelation. I wish I had snapped some pictures, because it's impossible to describe this book that proudly referred to itself as: A Visual Representation of the Apocalypse.

If I worked in the kiddie department and we had story hour, this is a book I would choose. "Hey, tykes, gather 'round. We're going to read about the end of the world!"

i want to hold your hand

2008-12-01T15:45:00.001-08:00

My calendar informed me that this song was released on December 1st. I listened. I enjoyed. You can too, if you feel so inclined.

In high school, my friend, her cubicle neighbor and her older brother outlined a promising idea for a music video that would work well with this song. It involved the singer wearing very, very thick specs and spending the whole song trying to reach a hand, but having trouble connecting because he couldn't see very well. I always think about that never produced vid when I hear this song.

joining forces

2008-11-30T22:16:00.000-08:00

Just a sampling from the recent Brandi Carlile / Seattle Symphony performance. The first half of the show was acoustic, the second half BCB performed with the Symphony. As you might imagine, the videos can't compare to the live show that was magical and stunning. Gave me goosebumps.

Joining forces: a very good thing.

Follow:

Fall Apart Again:

The Story:

Oh, Dear:

Pride and Joy:

Turpentine:

ugly baby

2008-11-29T10:37:00.000-08:00

We'd like to think that all babies are cute. Let's face it, some of them need baby ski masks (either knitted by a very considerate friend or purchased from Ugly Baby Gap). Today at 7:59 am, my little baby novella made it into the world (somewhat safely) with all 50,000 little words in the right order and who knows how many bits of adorable punctuation (oh, look at that semicolon! coochie coochie coo!) Even though it's sometimes hardest for parents to see, I will admit it immediately and freely: I got me an ugly baby in need of a digital ski mask. (Any thoughts on where to get one?)

Still, it's done, and just in time before my exciting cultural event of the year: attending the Seattle Symphony. I know, impressive. I'm a huge fan of the symphony. Season ticket holder. Front row. I wear the foam finger to every event.

I should mention that Brandi will be there too. But I do enjoy the Symphony, come on, you have to believe me. I do.

If a Brandi show...I mean, the symphony wasn't enough excitement, I also get to watch D-man as he runs the Seattle half marathon. What a rockstar he is. Seattle has a lot of hills. A lot of them. Some of Seattle's hills have hills.

Must run. Have to tuck in the wee one on the little flash drive and pack my bag. Seattle, watch out. I'm on my way, and I'm a little tired/giddy/hungry.