A Week of Walks

Nathan and I have embarked on a new fitness routine. We're walking daily for an hour. Nathan felt it was particularly important that we walk at the same time, every day, without variation. The only window in our shared schedules that can be relied upon every day is 5:45 am. That's right. A.M. We're done with our hour walk before 7 a.m. We started a week ago yesterday.

And you know what?

So far it's not that bad.

I mean, it's early. Sure. And it seems even earlier on days when I would normally sleep in until 8 or even 9. When I originally started to well, I guess "whine" is the right word, about this, Nathan suggested we try it for a month and then make adjustments if necessary. That was so reasonable, I couldn't exactly refuse, now could I? But it's not that bad, AND, it means that by 7 AM, I've already exercised!! I'm off the hook for the rest of the day. Sure, I'll get more walking in, and I might stretch or something, but I've already gotten over the biggest hurdle. (We're not actually hurdling, though occasionally we are motivated enough to scurry up the hill by our house, just to get the climbing over as quickly as possible. Gina taught me that trick.)

We're off to Yosemite in a few weeks, and we're excited to imagine starting the trail to Vernal Falls at quarter to six. I bet we have the place to ourselves!

The visual equivalent for "onomatopoeia"

I went to church last Sunday with my mom. It's been awhile. Going to church is a lot more like staying at home and watching church on television than it used to be. There are power point presentations and music videos and the like. My favorite thing about church was a lady who signed a hymn, while the lyrics ran on a power point presentation behind her for those of us who don't understand sign language.

I assume that most of the words in sign language are rather "onomatopoeiac," or that they do have some visual representation of the word they represent. Whoever invented the sign for "hallelujah" did an excellent job. "Hallelujah" looks like a party! It starts off with a clap, and then there is a spiraling upwards gesture with both hands, and it ends with that now classic charasmatic christian gesture of the palms upturned to the heavens, as if to say "High Five God!"

So I ask you, is there a visual equivalent of onomatopeia? (Good band name "Visual Onomatopoeia." ) And of course, no converstaion about onomatopeia is complete, to my mind, without referencing the West Wing episode when Sam heads off some sort of crisis with the Russians, based on the fact that the Russian ambassador knew the meaning of the word onomatopoeia, but not the word "frumpy."

Overly Enthusiastic, Perhaps

I was just leaving the Circulation Desk, and one of our staffers was just about to take over for me, when she said, casually, "Didn't I see you reading 'Ysabel?' I just finished reading it." Turns out Ysabel was her first GGKay novel. Well, you know how exciting that is, when someone's reading GGK for the first time. I was, perhaps, a shade overly enthusiastic in my response, given that this person doesn't really have any context for that which is Jenn, beyond a certain friendliness and a few circ desk shifts. There may have been just the slightest bit of squealing involved.

She had moved from Ysabel to Last Light of the Sun, and claimed to be enjoying it. I got into our catalog with her and talked about the pros and cons for various reading order scenarios. I was shocked and saddened to discover we own The Darkest Road, but not The Summer Tree or The Wandering Fire. I spent some time on my lunch hour making her a list, sorting them into varying intensities of fabulousness. The Tapestry listed as the penultimate work, Tigana and Lions and Ysabel as "Life Altering," Song for Arbonne as "Excellent" and the others as "The Other Stuff."

It's a bit of a puzzle, as I'm sure you see. Normally, with new Kay people, I suggest an Arbonne, followed by either Lions or Tigana. Then, assuming they won't be offended by fantasy, of course there is the Tapestry, and now I'd suggest one wait until after that for Ysabel. Then I leave it up to folks to try or skip Sailing to Serantium and Last Light, as they feel best. She's read Ysabel, but not the Tapestry. She's reading Last Light. Next, should I encourage her to treat herself to one of the tastiest morsels, or should she work her way from least amazing to most mind boggling, since she's on the path. She says she'd read them all, but I'd hate to lose her to the second book of Sarantium, you know?

My First Book Club Meeting

I mentioned this morning that I'd read one of the books for our book clubs, and ten minutes later, I was slated to lead a group of 5th graders through a conversation about "A Girl Named Disaster." How cool is that?

I hung out for the tail end of the 4th grade book club meeting, just to see how they go. Five nine year olds debating whether or not it's strictly necessary to read the author's note or the prologue of a book. Then they discussed movie adaptations of books they'd read recently. These kids have stuff to say. And they are amped on Teddy Grahams snacks that we handed out.

I was scheduled to have three kids for the 5th grade book club, but only one boy showed up. Technically, he's a fourth grader, but well, you know how it goes. You're all nerdy too. He'd also only read a third of the book, but man, was he ready to discuss. He had some complex analysis of this story, it was awesome. In case you're aren't familiar with "A Girl Named Disaster," it's the story of a 12 year old girl living in Mozambique who runs away to avoid marrying the evil guy her family has set her up with. Well, that's the one sentence version of the story. It also, as the fifth grader just reminded me, has a very rich mythological side to it. He compared and contrasted the acceptance of witches in this book and in "The Witch of Blackbird Pond," (Better to be a witch, or possessed by a witch, in Mozambique than in colonial America. You don't get burned or hung, only married off to the evil guy. For your reference.) He commented on how having native words in a story adds to the depth. He speculated on what would happen in the parts he hadn't read. And when I handed him the book that the group is reading next month, he said, I kid you not, "Cool! I like to read books with virtual reality in them." Hm, it occurs to me now that most books do, but the book in question has, you know, actual virtual reality in it.

Terrible horrible no good very bad reference desk shift

Even in Australia.

I've been on the adult ref desk for three hours now, and usually, at this desk, boredom is my biggest foe. Tonight, that was not to be the case. As soon as I sat down our "red alert" patron came in, the one who's made us get the Police Department on speed-dial. He was no trouble. In fact, the first two hours were cake. In the last hour, I've been swamped by very kind patrons with really absurdly difficult requests. One lady came in and handed me a copy of her credit card bill. Or rather "Father's" credit card bill. Father stumbled in behind her, an ancient priest. "Father," who, I came to learn, has no trouble putting together a TV set, but perhaps was best not left alone with the Internets, had $850 on his card to a travel agency in Michigan. Could I find all the travel agencies in this particular town in Michigan? Sure. Well, at first glance, there are 451 of them. I tried to explain to the nice woman who wanted to help a very old priest that perhaps trying to phone each of the 451 travel agencies might not be a good strategy. I tried to explain that if he'd made a reservation online, it would be hard to pinpoint the the right person to call. I really, really tried to get her to work with the credit card company. "Father" kept trying to help, wondering where the city was.

Meanwhile, another patron was wondering how best to search back issues of tabloids for articles about Bigfoot. No, really, I'm serious. She seemed an adept web searcher, was familiar with searching the archives of other periodicals, but couldn't seem to grasp why the National Enquirer might not keep meticulous, easily searchable records. Then I dropped a huge book on my toe, and you know, I couldn't do any of the yelling that is normally required to dull the pain of injured toes.

And, just for giggles, I just helped a very sweet older gentleman track down the address and phone number of a super-Christian Pro-Life organization. Since chanting to myself "Libraries disseminate information!" didn't make me feel less guilty, I'm trying to convince myself that maybe he's going to write them a well reasoned letter about why women should be allowed to make their own decisions about their bodies. The sweet older gentlemen didn't have quite the right name for the organization he was looking for, but gosh darnit, I was still able to find them. "You're like a detective!" he said, shaking my hand. "That's what librarians are," I said grimly. "I'm going to put you on my list of good people," he said. It doesn't feel like I'm on that list.

REAL Hobbits

I'm checking in magazines again, and in the midst of fishing out one of those cards Jim mentions below (in passing, they kind of remind me of the streamers Riverside uses to sort their Tricor, useless, ever-present, and wasteful) and the following headline catches my eye. Oh, I should mention, I'm checking in the issue of "Science" which is published by the American Association for the Advancement of Science. Here's the title of the article:

"Hobbit's Status as a New Species Get a Hand Up." (here's a link, if you happen to have access to Science online.)

Apparently, something about the wrist bones of a being that lived on the Indonesian island of Flores 18,000 years ago indicate that he is a whole new species. Well, paleoanthropologists are debating that. But you know, you throw the word "hobbit" in, and I'm on board. The pro-hobbit contingent says H. floresiensis is definitely different than H. antecessor or H. habilis, and not just one of those others with a small head. They've included an illustration which would look a little out of place at the Green Dragon, but still. Very cool.

ARRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

One of my regular responsibilities here at the library is checking in the new periodicals. So, it's Friday afternoon, I'm finishing the stack before the weekend. I pick up "Vanity Fair" and notice it's their 2nd Annual Green Issue.

The WHOLE FREAKING MAGAZINE IS WRAPPED IN PLASTIC!!!