Which Contains One of the Infamous Library Stories

You can't help but love the week assignments are due for the children's-literature courses.

More specifically, the day before and the day of the deadline.

SO MANY panicked college girls in the library's youth department.

One apparently imprinted on me because I was the first staff person she saw, bless her, and she kept coming back no matter how many other desks I sent her to. For the purposes of this post I shall name her Boots, as her fuzzy boots were the first defining feature I noticed; the poor thing seemed more confused every time I saw her.

First question was easy enough: "Where do you have the like, comic-book type picture books?"

Youth Graphic Novels rack, why yes it is quite full, and don't expect everything to be quite in alphabetical order.

Next: "Where do you find books about, like, family relations, or parents, and stuff?"

There was no youth librarian around (most likely she was helping one of the other half-dozen panicked college girls who were milling about), and the girl didn't really seem up to doing a keyword search on the computers, so I referred her to the book list of various subjects that the youth department has on hand for cases such as this. It was already lying open in the right spot on the desk anyhow, due to aforementioned  surge of college students all on the same scavenger hunt. The list occupied her for quite some time, but then it came to actually retrieving the items ....

"Can you help me find this call number? I don't know what I'm doing!"

Normally a straightforward task, but we hit some snags.

Boots: I've looked through everything, I can't even find the .92 ones.

Me: Did it say it was checked in?

Boots: Yeah.

Me: Okay, let's see. The 591's are over here, so this is the right place. The .92's are these right here. [points at the somewhat hastily-written call number on her paper] Is this an A, that it starts with?

Boots: Uhm, yeah.

Me: Okay. Yeah, I don't see that author here. So you were looking for a book about animals? Ocean animals, sea creatures? [points to the other books in this section]

Boots: I don't know! I dunno, it was just a book without words [same thing last semester's students had to look for]. Would you still have it shelved over here, if it was a book without words?

Me: Well, we don't really sort them that way; if this is the call number, it should be here -- wait. [notices a letter "E" sitting a ways to the left of the call number she's scribbled down] Is this part of the number, is this an E?

Boots: Yeah?

Me: Um ... huh. [it's now too long for the 3-letter author ID, but the E doesn't make sense as a collection marker unless she meant ETR, easy-to-read]. Did it say it was in the easy-books section? [blank stare] Do you remember the title?

Boots: I don't know, I just have this number.

Me: ...Okay, how about we get someone to look this up again for you and see if we can find out where it is.

My mention of the E reminded her of a more pressing question, however:

Boots: So does the E, this E [points at another call number jotted down above the troublesome one] mean they're over there? [points at the picture books section].

Me: Yes.

Boots: So, how do those, like ... work? 'Cuz I'm looking for like, "Sendak," and I can't find anything.

Me: Well, they're roughly sorted in the bins by first letter of the alphabet, so they're not in exact alphabetical order; but the bins are labeled with the letter range you'll find there. So you're looking for -- what again?

Boots: Maurice Sendak, it has to be something by him. So like, it says there are like a bunch of this one checked in, SEN. It's Where the Wild Things Are.

Me: Okay, well let's go over here then ... see the "SE" on these? It should be in one of these four bins, in either the top or the bottom. Now this one right here is a Where the Wild Things Are, but it's the movie storybook.

Boots: That's fine.

Me: Okay, but this one's not the original book, is that going to work? It's a picture book based on the movie "Where the Wild Things Are" that was made later.

Boots: Oh that's okay, it just has to be by Maurice Sendak.

Me: Weeeeellll ....

Boots: [looking inside] Oh, is it not? Oh, okay. Yeah, I don't see it anywhere, it said there were a lot of them.

Me: Was it this version of the book?

Boots: I don't think so.

Me: Okay, well, here's the actual Where the Wild Things Are, down here.

Boots: Oh, great!

When I saw her again she had a pretty good-sized pile of books amassed, but still looked lost.

Boots: I need to find a book with a copyright of 2010 or later. How would I do that?

Me: Any book?

Boots: Yeah.

Me: ...But a picture book?

Boots: Oh, well yeah.

Me: Okay, because those we don't have a New Books shelf for.

Boots: Yeah.

Me: But any picture book?

Boots: Yeah.

Me: Well, when you do a search on the computers you can sort by publication date, so...

Boots: [gives me a sort of blank look, starts going toward the book bins]

Me: Or, okay, you can just grab one that looks new and check the date. Like, here. Rrralph, that one's copyrighted 2011.

Boots: Oh ... okay! [pages through] Uh, but does this look like it's one for ages 5-12?

Me: ...Um, well, that depends; so it has to--

Boots: Sorry, yeah, it has to be for ages 5-12.

Me: Well, like I said, you could just look for the newer-looking ones, or you can go over here and search for something, and the search results can be sorted by date ....

Boots: [grabs one, points at the copyright date] This one says 2010. So will that work?

Me: ... Ah, I don't know, is that what they told you to look--

Boots: I mean, "copyright 2010," is that what that means?

Me: [not quite sure what she's asking here] Yes, "copyright 2010" means ... the copyright ... is from 2010 ....

Boots: Okay, good!

Me: So, did you find that one without words?

Boots: No.

Me: Let's go to the Info desk and see if they can help you with that one; maybe it was checked in recently. They can help you look in some of the other areas of the library where we keep things before they're shelved. So, this is the Information  desk ... oh, and there's the youth librarian too! Okay, so we need to look up a book.

Info: Alright, what's the title?

Me: [turns to Boots] So, did you get the ...?

Boots: No.

Me: Okay, do you still have the call number with you?

Boots: Uhm ... darn, let me go see. [runs off]

At that point my shift was almost over anyhow, so I handed her over to the excellent care of the youth librarian, silently wishing them both some much-needed luck.

In Which I Go To The Avengers And Also The Moon

I don't exactly feel qualified to *review* this movie and do it any justice, as I'm not a Marvel connoisseur (let me just pause here for a moment to exult over the fact that I spelled "connoisseur" correctly the first time for once), but I will say I enjoyed it. Since I've hardly gotten around to seeing any of the individual superheroes' movies, why was I looking forward to this one so much? Good reviews aside, Joss Whedon and Iron Man were not the only reasons ... but I'd be lying if I said those didn't factor in. 

I mean, c'mon, Stark's like a scrawny obnoxious Batman, gets the best theme music, suits up in Cyclones colors ... what's not to love? 

Okay, some of those may be Ames-specific, but two out of three ain't bad.

Also, since about half of the guy's screen time is as a GIANT FACE with some computer-y stuff around it (for most of which time I managed not to think, "BuffyBot?") ...

Tony! How is your money?

...you can't help but notice what pretty eyes Robert Downey Jr. has. I mean, I am seriously a little envious of those eyelashes.

As for Joss Whedon, well, I've already managed to reference his work once and I haven't even gotten to the part where I'm referencing his work, so, there's that. Grr. Argh. Speaking of, when Thor (whose lines were funny for the opposite reason of Stark's -- he's got such a dead serious expression and delivery) is describing the Bilgesnipe (do you not have those?), despite the scales I can't help but picture it as Dru's chaos demon. All slime and antlers, y'know.

Anyhow, it's a fun movie, just watch it. Whether you know what's going on or not it's tons of fun visually -- in action and fine details as well as in more "posed" scenes like the Avengers on the street or the final remnant of the name on the Stark building. My mom watched it, didn't realize that Bruce Banner = The Hulk until like halfway through the movie, and she still loved it. As with any movie with source material, your biggest concern would probably be if you go in knowing *too* much about what's going on. When consistency/accuracy is at odds with mass appeal, guess which one invariably wins out?

Oh, and of course, watch the news monitors near the end for the "superheroes, in New York?" cameo.

And finally, let us have a moment of silence for all of the space-eels who died being awesome.

That's a moraaaaay

Well. In other news, the moon was pretty last night. Wait wait, I'm going somewhere with this.

I'm still figuring out my new camera, so most of the time I'll just set it to Auto and hope for the best. Because of this, at first all of my pictures were like this:

So the following dialogue ensued.

ME: Camera, why you gotta be this way? You were EXPENSIVE for a point-and-shoot, man! You've got like, 25x zoom! Is this really the best you can do?

CAMERA: Maaaaaybe.

ME: Is that so?

CAMERA: I'm not tellling....

ME: You know what, enough of this. MANUAL OVERRIDE!

CAMERA: !!!

ME: [presses random buttons]

CAMERA: Ow, wait, stoppit! Fine, fine, this is how well I can actually see it, okay? Are you happy now?

ME: Dang, Camera, why couldn't you have just started with that?

CAMERA: I dunno, didn't see the point. Now it just looks like a rock instead of a glowy rock. What could you even use this picture for?

ME: I can ... I ... I'll show you Camera, I'm gonna put it on a BLOG!

CAMERA: 'K, whatever, can you put my lens cap on now? It's getting late and my battery's low.

ME: We still have a long way to go, Camera.

I like to think it was secretly trying to teach me how to use the Manual function, though. I mean, I'm still clueless, but it's a nice sentiment.

Which is About Books, Books, and Books.

Carrying on from my last post, but in a much more succinct fashion ...

I finally got my own personal copy of Howl's Moving Castle. With a proper cover with a proper Calcifer. These things are important to me.

I was a little nervous about what "Acceptable" condition would end up being, as I once had a "Very Good" textbook that was full of writing, had torn and bent pages, and was decorated on the front with a smallish "The Onion" sticker.

Fortunately, libraries have rather better standards, and this was a former library book. It's really quite lovely for a used, 1986 children's book.

As it turns out, I'm sort of glad it is an ex-library book, because it's a pretty cool library book. Since I work at a library, I naturally have purchased or acquired a fair amount of withdrawn books, most with the library labels still on. It's kind of cool to have my own little "library" shelf, call numbers and all. What's even cooler than books from my local library, though, is a book from the Onondaga Nation School library, with a card still in it from just a year after I was born.

I hope Kim and Paul enjoyed it as much as I have.

I also see that the Onondaga Nation School Library catalogued it as Young Adult, just like my library did. It came off to me as more of a J book, but I suppose there were parts (decapitation and drunkenness and the like) best suited to the older crowd.

It appears my library finally located the copy of Castle in the Air it was looking for, so I'll finally be able to read it. I got as far as checking out the audiobook, but ... I simply cannot have fiction read to me. Takes me out of it.

Speaking of libraries, I'm working on a Dewey-Decimal related drawing. It's about as interesting as it sounds, but it'll still be fun if I actually get around to finishing it. 

With all of this recent being-a-library-geek that's come over me, I also decided to revive my languishing Squidoo account and make a library lens. Part of it required digging through the Internet for library-themed webcomics -- I found a few I didn't know existed, and will now have to read through in my spare time. This means, of course, that I will write blogs and make sandwiches in my spare time and read the aforementioned webcomics on workdays when I have ten minutes to get ready to leave.

Oh well, I guess everything gets done eventually. Which reminds me, I really need to clean the gecko cage. I've been watching Dexter and admiring my new book and buying obscene amounts of groceries all day. Ta-ta. 

In Which I Ramblingly Confuse Myself About Howl's Moving Castle(s)

Even before I've started typing this, there's no way I can delude myself into thinking this will turn out as something I can honestly call a "review."

So. Spoilers, no doubt, will abound.

Skipping back to the top from the end of this (several miles off, as the crow flies), I'll offer a tl;dr before the jump: I read the book, I watched the movie, I really liked the book better but the movie is too different for an actual comparison. 

Alright. Press on, gentle reader, if you dare.

In Which I Cannot Resist Terrible Puns and May Possibly Be A Nerd

Doc Auk.

...That is all.

In Which There Are Pictures of Bloody Meat Chunks (and sort of a recipe)

So, have you ever been playing a game on your emulator during a cold rainy day off and thinking, "wow, time really flies when I'm on here -- hey, and it's a cold and rainy day off! This is the perfect combination of factors for me to cook that tough cut of lamb in the fridge!"

But then you realize there needs to be a good meaty broth if you're going to make braised lamb, and there's no good way to just rip off a hunk of hind shank and make a proper stock with it. You have a wide variety of beef chunks and whole and partial chickens in the freezer (being, you feel you must clarify, someone who recently purchased a lot of meat during a sale, rather than some sort of chiefly carnivorous werewolf-person), but you'd rather not dilute the (expensive) lamb flavor.

You also realize you don't have any vegetables to go with it (due to having used them up recently, rather than due to being a chiefly carnivorous werewolf-person), so while you're on your way to figure out the broth situation you decide to grab a can of artichokes because laziness.

And when you get to the store they actually have (cleverly hidden beneath a pile of lamb chops) exactly what you need for once, which is the cheapest lamb in the universe or at least in your state, and also coincidentally the perfect thing to make stock/stew with:

So you get to work with your sauteeing and your browning and you're wondering whether you even need to bother making stock separately, and also how the heck all of this is going to fit along with the lamb shank...

...which is after all quite sizable once unwrapped.

 

So you chop off the fat blobs where possible, and you chop of the ribby bits and decide they can be spared for stock while the rest browns:

And you go through the first part of the cooking process half-asleep because it's kind of late now to be cooking what with all the impromptu shopping trips in the rain and all, and because all of the stewed things start out the same way, brown the meat first and then soften the onions in the fat....

 along with any other crunchy things that can't just boil (a bunch of chopped fennel in this case), then add the major spices (just rosemary today) and then add the liquid and use it to dissolve the crispy burny meaty bits and then put the meat back in on top and add any wispy fresh stuff (like the fennel tops) and make sure the liquid's about halfway up or so and cover it with the lid.

And you also forget about the artichokes you went out in the rain to get until you're partway through the next step (which in the case of braised lamb is a little different and wakes you -- instead of just leaving it on the stovetop forever you have to put it in a medium oven for an hour or two, periodically pausing your game to pull the pan out with two oven mitts, half-throwing said pan onto the stovetop in a heat-fearing panic, opening it to stir, and then shoving it back into the hateful dragon's den that is your oven).

Then you return to your beloved stovetop to boil up the remaining stock and make the world's easiest grain-based side dish, couscous. 

And finally you add salt and pepper and forget to take a picture of the final product because you're ravenous and have been gnawing on the pathetic jumble of bones from the stock-pot while waiting for everything else to cook.

Not that you're a chiefly carnivorous werewolf-person or anything, it's just been a long time since lunch.

You've had days like that, right? 

Right?

Okay, well at least tell me whether I lost you at emulator or neck bones.

(also, it's really awesome when you've finished a slightly epic endeavor like this and then realize you have a fresh apricot in the fridge to eat afterward. Reheated, it's also good with a plop of plain/honey-flavored yogurt next to the couscous to cool any hot spots in the stew.)

In which the Midwest is an elemental minefield

Fire, ice, water, electricity, the sun -- pretty much the only thing that is particularly safe and reliable out here is the earth itself, which fortunately lacks the restlessness found in the more coastal chunks of continent.

It's been hot lately, record-breaking sort of hot, which at least rules out ice and water as assailants for the time being. Since our seasons often progress along the lines of Ice, Flood, Drought, and Mixture, or get stuck on one or two of the four for a year or so, this isn't  wildly surprising, just inconvenient. Which is good, since we don't have anything to talk about with strangers if the weather isn't bad.

In general, Drought isn't as tricky a season as Flood, since it usually subsides soon enough with nothing more than the occasional advisory and burn ban to remind us that this a particularly summer-y summer. It doesn't generally go all-out like in the truly dry places where your lawns are rocks and cactus, because at heart the whole cycle is eventually gearing toward its preferred status, Flood. Businesses in low-lying areas build on hills, build walls, or don't build at all. This is particularly true of my previous residence, where we would watch water creep into the parking lot and hope it didn't make it in this year. In 1993, 1996, 2008 and 2010 anyone too close to the ground was mercilessly weeded out of the area by rising waters. Childhood favorites like the pizza place, golf course, movie theater and bowling alley, all just a short walk from my old building, gave up the ghost one by one as they were washed out or simply realized that the water would not stop coming, not for long.

So in short, I'm used to sad spring stories from the lowlands about this, that and the other place literally going under. But I was surprised to see a familiar address, an old neighboring building, in the news now, with no water in sight. The apartments I sloshed past through the rivers of mud and God-knows-what-else in '96 had gone up in flames, none injured but little time to save anything else, a fire at 6AM in a building likely made with water in mind but ill-equipped for fire. I felt a faint twinge of irony at reports that the fire started in a boat....

Anyway, I know it's not Colorado's blaze or Japan's deluge, but it's home. It's hard to get over the fact that I used to live near hear, used to sneak shortcuts between buildings and windbreaks.



Walking around the charred walls I can see what's around the corner in my mind, a parking lot and a hill in the corner, steep but climbable, even without the steps, a place I found a dead frog once. All the chipmunks, far more than I see up north where I live now ... they're still there, cautious but curious and hopeful as ever for handouts. Friends of mine have lived here, some in this very building.

The thoughts of those for whom the memories are not of last decade or last year but of last week, those who have without exaggeration just lost the roof over their heads, I cannot imagine ... but I hope all have at least found a place to stay in the heat.

On a more upbeat note, my people (known as the Geeks) have a song we play for moral support on such occasions; please excuse if it is not to your taste, but we offer it in earnest. The words (while somewhat appropriate upon reflection for one whose land has burned and who suddenly has an unobstructed, if unwelcome, view of the sky) are known, so the music alone will suffice: