Librarian not cut out for dealing with the public and you know we are not all like this!
(totally couldn’t get the youtube thing to link in here right)
Motherly Advice
When my mom taught me how to drive she summed it up this way:
“I never want a police officer to knock on my door and say, ‘Your daughter’s dead, BUT SHE HAD THE RIGHT OF WAY.’”
I’ve found that pretty good advice for most areas of my life. Thanks, Mom.
Reconstituted IM
E: M is back speaking in town.
Me: Yeah, I’m not big on her.
E: I get that from you a lot about her.
E-Me: chatter.
Me: Yeah, I blogged her that time she spoke two years ago and thanked her for pointing out that Star Trek wiki and when I talked about [Captain Kathryn] Janeway she all sneered and and was like, “oh her.”
E: Oh, that’s why you don’t like her?
Me: Maybe it seems silly, but that’s my Captain she’s talking about.
E: No, I think I get it. It’s like if she was talking bad about ANI.
Me: EXACTLY
Super Fancy
Our new dryer was delivered this week. Please note the way the light reflects all sparkly on the inside. They threw this feature in for free.
We researched Consumer Reports first, then compared prices at three places (one big box, 2 local-owned) and bought from a local-owned place.
Below, see the super-fancy features of our new dryer. Haven’t had both of these since – ever.
Easter and Peeps
Y’know peeps? The disgusting marshmallow Easter semi-food that comes in a variety of fascinatingly fake colors? Are you aware that there is an entire subculture of peep worshipping? People set up peeps in little montages – Jesus peeps ministering to their peep flock, peeps on a first date, peeps getting library instruction, peep street fighting with knives, peeps POLE DANCING. Gotta check out peeps-tastic on Flick-r.
OK, I’m going to stop now. Because I’m in danger of damaging my high-falutin’ reputation. It’s just one short step from peeps to … utter ruin, really.
But hey, a moment of religious seriousness after this stunning National Easter Bunny Awareness Day-esque message. I believe that God can raise people to heaven – the traditional Islamic view of how Jesus left the Earth. But y’know what? I’m also good with the idea that God can raise people from the dead. What with being God and all. And I’m not going to fight with Christians on the particular point of Jesus’s death/ascension. And I believe in the virgin birth. And I am not a Christian. And, as you’ve probably determined, despite these traditional beliefs, I’m not actually huge on particular points of faith. These beliefs are not new. If you want to know more about my religious beliefs, you can read a long thread I did last year. Search for “Religion” or, better yet, click on the category “religions” and scroll down to the bottom.
All’s Well That…
Remember that time on my old blog when I was getting ready to help some friends move to Oregon? and I talked about how badly I navigate? We’re back to how badly I navigate because, interestingly enough, my navigational skills have not improved in the last 24 months.
I mentioned once how I leave extra time to get to the movies in my own town. Because I take wrong turns. Getting to the movies. Which are a half mile from the grocery store. Yeah.
So, a couple of weeks ago we went to the movies and I didn’t leave extra travel time. I knew it was a mistake. The resulting anxiety did not help. I made wrong turns. We were late. All past the previews and everything, we missed the beginning of the movie. This makes Hubby frustrated. Especially because when we get lost he wants me start reading street signs out loud and I’m all, “We’re lost. I can’t waste time reading street signs. I have to figure out a way out of here.” Knowing the names of the streets I am on or near is not going to help me. They are all but meaningless, even in my own town sometimes. And reading street signs takes me away from the primary objective: looking for something familiar, large, well known, or sometimes, just plain interesting, and heading toward it. I am not particularly successful at re-routing.
This charms me. I love this about myself. I am rarely late because I build in time to get lost, or at least take the long way because I forgot which way was shorter. I feel no internal pressure to memorize routes, or streets, or which streets go north-south and which go east-west (Hubby taught me that streets do this and I was all, wow, that is totally intense).
Today Hubby and I drove to Detroit, and, as happens, we had to find a place to park. After driving for several minutes in the vague vicinity of the building we needed, we found it. Only to read that there was no public parking. The sign toward public parking pointed directly into the middle of the Fisher Theater which is what? almost a block large? I began turning corners, looking for parking. After a few minutes I found expensive parking. I parked.
Remember how I said I find my lack of directional sensitivity charming? Ok, I don’t find it charming every moment. I declared that I didn’t know where we were and I didn’t know where the building was (Read: I DARE you to figure it out). Hubby responded with due husbandly patience that we would go to the nearest street and start walking on it (where he probably would have wanted me to read street signs. Grrrrr.)
We got out of the car and I was pleasantly sprinkled to realize that we had somehow parked beside the side door of the building we needed. A gigantic building. I would have sworn we crossed a major road going the opposite direction of the building. Inside, there was a reception desk and a man walked us to what we needed. The room was so close to the car that if it were a pool, I could have swum the distance.
I felt the kindness of the universe wrap me in her loving arms. And then I got to blog, eat vegetarian lasagna, and drink diet cherry Pepsi with macadamia nut cookies. Who’s lost?
Toronto librarian admits shooting Chicago cop in ’60s
The saga of an American who spent 39 years on the run for the attempted murder of a Chicago police officer, most of it hiding under an assumed name in Mississauga, Canada, ended today in a U.S. court, where he was sentenced to 30 days in jail, two years probation and a $250,000 fine.
“I wish the events which led to Mr. Knox’s injuries had never occurred,” Pannell said in court. “It was an American tragedy. By this plea, I accept responsibility for the part I played in that tragedy.”
I learned about this at lisnews.org
Chocolate, Those are Chocolate Sprinkles
Facebook sprinkles me. It so, so does.
When I signed up to Facebook I did have one fun thought: “A.U. told me there’s a ‘What Dictator Are You?’ app. and she’s Mohamar Khadaffi. So seriously, which dictator might I be?” (I’m a good one! too! and she’s on my profile.)
And there’s other fun stuff. Like I belong to a group called: I OWE THAT BITCH SALLIE MAE MONEY and while its the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time – I do owe that bitch money – it worries me swearing under my “own name.”
No, I don’t swear at work. Quit smirking.
The Internet, for me, is a great, big, gigantic, super-huge, titanic, mega-gigantic, google-able … resume. I make my living online and so how I represent myself matters. No one wants to have the person publicly listed as their Web site administrator show up in some online nastiness somewhere when a client tries to find them to report a broken link, or friend them on Facebook because at work they seem so cheerful and customer-oriented, and then have something embarrassing turn up. This blog is as loose I get online and I do share it with some people I work with, but I don’t advertise it. It’s for friends and family and folks who want to keep up with me.
And tonight I’m thinking about how I handle this because Facebook is so charming it lures me to be fun. To have fun. To loosen up more than my threshold for such things normally allows. That whole status update thing? Like… “Snakelady is…” I’m so into that. Snakelady is pissed off. Snakelady is disappointed. Snakelady is proud. Snakelady did a good thing. Snakelady bombed dinner. I feel so inclined to share what’s up because it works so good for me when other people are doing it. A friend updated how he’d rolled the Magic 8 ball to see if he was going to score with this guy he’s sparking on and I’m all, Cool, send him a high five. And my friend A. had on her IM status one day, “I hate children.” And I’m all, oh, not going so good on the children’s desk today. Better send her a cake. Etc. etc. I’m amazed how much I can keep up with people just via their status. And I want to play, too.
But it might be more revealing than I like sometimes – anything “emotional” might be more than I want to share, what with colleagues reading it, and not “friend-colleagues-people-I-went-to-school-with” but just regular colleagues. But I want to join in, and for real, not “Snakelady joined the American Library Association” and “Snakelady is available for spring speaking engagements” and “Snakelady’s favorite children’s database is SIRS.” I mean, come on.
Right now? Seriously? I try not to do anything online that my boss couldn’t see and be OK with. That may sound extreme, so maybe I should say, “I don’t do anything online my future employers wouldn’t be comfortable associating themselves with on the day they get my application and google me and look me up on MySpace and Facebook.”
No, I don’t have a “secret identity” online. After a while, everything comes out. Somebody sees into your gmail over your shoulder one day and it is all over friends. Or you do something so fabulous under your pseudonym that you just have to share it with someone you know and then you forgot that you published a 125-page twenty-eight-part sexual fantasy featuring the cast of Star Trek under that pseudonym that has its own fan base and Googles really well and you’re like “Crap!!”
I have a MySpace profile – but I’m top friends with my work and my biggest site and so my “About Me” section talks about which professional associations I belong to. If you click through my friends you’ll be fine. If you happen to click into one of my family members, though, watch out, we’re a lively bunch 
In any case, some thoughts. It’s a consideration.
No, I still don’t have enough super-pokes to trout slap someone. No, I won’t trout slap anyone from work.
Ann Arbor book dealer steals books to sell for heroin
Prosecutors charged the owner of a long-time Ann Arbor used-book store and three other individuals in a book-selling scheme that involved hundreds of stolen textbooks from a nearby store.
Police said in court Tuesday that the owner of David’s Books requested a “shopping list” of books from the three other suspects, and they stole the items for cash to feed a heroin habit.
I learned about this at lisnews.org
Last Weekend, Getting the Car Washed
Last weekend we had 12 hours of consistently and comfortably above freezing weather. We hot tailed it to the car wash. We paid the fee. The attendant asked,
“Do you want to buy a second wash for half price to be used in the next two weeks?”
I paused then said, “You’re asking whether I want to bet my money on Michigan’s weather? I’ll pass, thanks.”
