2008

I can run 10 miles.
I'm not as slow of a runner as I think I am, but I'll never be particularly fast.
I am still, however, a fast swimmer.
I will have to eventually get my other foot fixed.
Cranks are more reliable than they are given credit for.
Life contains moments of pure joy, even when I'm at work.
It is possible to make crazy people afraid of you.
I'd be happier if I was in charge.
It will never happen here.
Some things can be fixed.
Rosanne's Vaporub trick really does work.
It is difficult to work with people you don't respect.
But there are ways to manage them.
Some things prove to be the root of all evil.
I need to spend more time outside.
My cat is the Devil's spawn.
I look better at 37 than I did at 17 and there are pictures to prove it.
Yoga just might save me.
My husband loves me even when I'm having a day.
I love him even when he's having a day too.

And I quote

"I'd like information on these people here," the woman said, brandishing a business card from The Franciscan Friars of the Renewal. "The Franciscans. Y'know. The monk people."

Soapy goes heavy.

Heavy drugs, that is.

He's in looking for information on Tramadol, heaven help us. A quick look at the side effects is a treasure-trove of Soapy obsessions:

Tramadol side effects Get emergency medical help if you have any of these signs of an allergic reaction: hives; difficulty breathing; swelling of your face, lips, tongue, or throat. Stop using tramadol and call your doctor at once if you have any of these serious side effects:

• seizure (convulsions);

• a red, blistering, peeling skin rash; or

• shallow breathing, weak pulse.

Less serious side effects may include:

• dizziness, drowsiness, weakness;

• nausea, vomiting, constipation, loss of appetite;

• blurred vision;

• flushing (redness, warmth, or tingly feeling); or

• sleep problems (insomnia).

This is not a complete list of side effects and others may occur. Tell your doctor about any unusual or bothersome side effect.

I guess he's going home to stew over what he's learned, because he's just left the area.

May I ask a question?

Why?

Why are you sitting, cramped in the corner at computer you aren't even using (Which is good, because it doesn't work.) with your back to the door (By the by, do you know how distracting it is when you jump every time that door opens?), when there are, by my count, 3 tables and 17 seats available to you?

And why do you have scarf wrapped around your head with a long bit hanging over one eye?

These are the questions which plague me at the moment. And I'm only 12 minutes into my shift on the desk.

You've been warned

It's a printer and an old one at that, which we are continually coaxing back to life - it's not a bar...stop leaning on it.

Seriously. I mean it. Or we will inconveniently not have your book in our catalog.

Oasis is the cure for what ails.

Or at least they were for me last night at Susquehanna Bank Center.



It took us 3 hours to get down to Camden from north Jersey, but it was completely worth the grooves my nails left in the car dashboard.

And Camden...wow... No wonder Jersey has the reputation it has.

Can't be sure

...but I think Darth Vader is putting in an appearance today.

Why can't I be sure?

Well, there's this guy sitting in the hallway between Reference and Periodicals and he has a plastic bag over his head.

Yes, you read that right.

Over. His. Head.

He has the build of Darth, but he's missing the umbrella fabric. However, Darth has been know to come through sans umbrellas...

She's been sighing heavily for about 20 minutes as she pounds away on the OPAC. Finally she comes up to the reference desk.

"Two years ago I read a book by a nun writing about Christ. She was Scandinavian. It was translated. How can I find all the books that were written out of the country by nuns about Christ?"

This question puts me in mind of my days in retail in - where else - a bookstore. Every once in a while we would get some doozies. Here are a sampling of some of the more memorable ones. The + indicates the story is one of L's.

"I'm looking for a book. It's blue."

"I'm looking for a book...it's called *The Search for Blue September"

"Where's your non-fiction section?"

+A customer comes up with his thumb in the middle of a book. "Where's your photocopier?"

+"Where do you apply for a library card?"



* The book they were actually looking for was...wait for it...

The Hunt for Red October.

Public Service Announcement

The following was found on one of reading tables in the reference area. I recognize the handwriting, it's the Philosopher's work:

To all students get your education or you will be homeless. Do you want to stay at Goodwill Mission, 31 Fulton Street or Newark Penn Station. Do you want to collect welfare and food stamps. Do you want to live in public housing all your live [sic]? If you do keep your dumb ass out of school and you will.

From the men
of Goodwill,
Fulton Street
and Penn Station

It's a Brownie bag and she keeps her keys in it. It drives me crazy. And I really mean it's a Brownie bag. As in The Brownies. As in those little girls in brown that are not quite Girl Scouts, but are no longer Daisies and sell those fabulous cookies that I never allow myself to buy because they'd never make it home. Them.

That's exactly my question. Why? What's she thinking?

What let's me see the humor in the Brownie purse is the fact that I really wanted one when I was a kid but my mom wouldn't buy it for me. We would get this catalog and there would be all sorts of fabulous things in there for all your Brownie and Girl Scout needs - charm bracelets, book bags, mittens and scarves, dolls, toys and camping equipment emblazoned with the GS logo. I was already made fun of when we went camping because a lot of my equipment was stamped "US ARMY," and came courtesy of my dad's active duty status with the Reserves. In retrospect, 37-year-old me thinks 10-year-old me was pretty cool to be toting around Viet Nam era camping equipment, but 10-year-old me just doesn't appreciate that. She rolls her eyes at 37-year-old me. 37-year-old me sticks her tounge out and I have to seperate them. They've never really gotten along.

Need my shoes, need my shoes!

The young lady that works the Periodicals desk at night with me just came by. There are a pair of boots under one of the tables back there but, "I don't see anyone without shoes," she said, "I looked." She, understandably didn't want to touch them but wasn't sure what to do. I told her to tell security the next time they make their round through.

As I type this, there's a guy at one of the OPACs banging his head on the table. I guess the book he wanted wasn't in.

Update: He needed a book from reference and we close in a few minutes, that's what the banging was about. He just stopped by the desk to let me know. Thanks, dude!

An excerpt...

This guy just came in for the address to write the White House. One of our residential crazies (She Who Needs a Bra), started talking to him about his sign and whether or not he was a "summer baby."

He launched into this explanation:
"I was born on April 15, just like Martin Luther King. Fifteen plus fifteen equals 30 which is god the father god the son and god the spirit. I have the holy spirit and I am the reincarnated Martin Luther King. But I don't have the wisdom to make it the right way this time around."

She Who Needs a Bra was looking for her usual: Caribbean Cooking and Orthodox Jewish Holidays.