Sasha Serena
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Save the Date
The
title of this entry might lead you to believe I'm finally saving a date
to write in my blog. So let me start with a slight aside and say
that, it's true I've had a bit of a break, but I've got lots of stuff to
write about, and a bunch of pictures to show you (some of which are slightly more embarrassing than others), and if you'll forgive it being a little out of order, I'm
ready to try to catch you up. 
So what does Save the Date refer to? Fans of Mary Kay Andrews will immediately recognize this as the title of her most recent novel, released in June. Mary Kay came to my library a few weeks ago to speak and spend an afternoon talking about and with sassy, southern women. Wait? What? Some of you are thinking, you did this already, right? Didn't Mary Kay come to speak at your library about ten years ago? Are you sure you're not mixing the libraries up? Well, yes, yes she did. But one engagement with Mary Kay is not nearly enough, so I put in a proposal with the too-wonderful-to-be-true folks at the Macmillan Speakers Bureau to bring her to my current library, too. I may or may not have stalked her just a little bit until she said yes.Mary Kay Andrews is a pseudonym for Kathy Trocheck, who wrote ten
critically acclaimed mysteries about a house cleaner named Callahan
Garrity back in the 90’s. As Mary Kay Andrews, she’s turned to writing
about sassy southern women who I’ve often wish could be my best friends
(I would wish I could be those sassy women themselves, but they tend to
get into a lot of trouble, and I think I’m safer on the sidelines). Ladies Night,
which takes place in Bradenton, FL, starts out with a splash when Grace
Stanton discovers her husband has been cheating on her, and in a
perfectly understandable reaction, drives his convertible into the pool.
Anyone who’s enjoyed a bottle of Cheerwine, made in the small town of
Salisbury, NC, will love spending time in Mary Kay’s fictional town of
Pascoe, NC, home of the Quixie Beverage Company, where, in Spring Fever,
Annajane Hudgins thinks she’s over her ex-husband...until she attends
his next wedding. And no one can call herself a Mary Kay Andrews fan
until she’s tagged along with best friends Weezie and BeBe (whose
mother, exhausted from having had eight previous children in ten years,
had settled upon the name BeBe with the French pronunciation of Bay-Bay
for her ninth child) in Savannah Blues, Savannah Breeze, Blue Christmas, and Christmas Bliss. Andrews’ newest book, Save the Date follows wedding florist Cara Kryzik as she tries to
save her business and a budding new romance. These funny, sharp titles,
along with Summer Rental, Hissy Fit, Little Bitty Lies, and Deep Dish, are great beach reads.
I first met Mary Kay (and I'm going to call her Mary Kay because, even though her real name is Kathy, I'm easily confused and need to pick one and stick with it) about ten years ago when I worked as an adult services librarian in Raleigh, NC. I knew I had to invite her to speak to our readers when I heard her on NPR answering a phone caller’s question of whether or not men can have hissy fits with the obvious answer: of course they can. They’re called conniptions. She gracious agreed to come to my library, and she was as delightful a speaker as she is a writer. I ran into her again a few months ago at a national library conference (where, incidentally, she ended up sitting at a dinner table with my boss and a bottle of wine while I was in the back of the room). When I finally fought my way up front, she said she would be thrilled to come to Gainesville, and by the way, would we have time to visit any antique stores? Mary Kay is a lifelong “junker” who claims to know the location of every thrift store, flea market, and junk pile in the southeastern United States, and a few parts of Ohio.
The process of bringing Mary Kay to Gainesville was fraught with paperwork but eventually came to be. The only part that made me nervous was the fact that I was picking her up at the airport at 10pm on a Saturday night, and anyone who knows me knows that this is dangerously close to bedtime for me. To make it a little easier, I stopped by the fabulous Sweetwater Inn Bed and Breakfast to check her in so that all she would have to do on arrival is go on up to her room. I briefly considered barricading myself in Julia's room (because gorgeous bed and breakfast suites must have a name) and refusing to come out, sending Mary Kay home to share a bed with Sasha, but I eventually persuaded myself to step away from the hardwood. With the slight exception of her plane having to be towed in the last few feet to the gate, Mary Kay's arrival was smooth and we chatted amiably as I took her to Sweetwater.
The next morning, I picked her up, ready for a short tour of Gainesville before plans for Sunday brunch with some book club members. We'd not gotten three blocks before Mary Kay called out "Stop! Yard sale! Stop!" After a couple of circles while we debated which way the arrows were pointing, we made a quick visit to a local yard sale that had pretty much already been picked over. But it is with great pleasure that I can say that I went to a yard sale with the best junker outside of HGTV.
We made it to brunch at Leonardo's 706, a fantastic local restaurant offering a choice of a buffet or brunch off the menu. They also have this great fresh orange juice with nutmeg and a ton of other fancy stuff, except that I also had to order a mimosa to get the other fancy stuff I wanted. I had invited members of my book club and my boss's book club to join us, so we spent an hour gabbing about favorite books and the merits of Amazon. The food is fabulous, and we spent a good bit of time comparing the buffet to the entrees off the menu. My five cheese omelet was going to need to be split in half and provide dinner as well. A great time had by all, we took some pics and headed for our Millhopper branch, where Mary Kay was scheduled to speak.
We were a little unsure of what to expect in terms of attendance. We had high hopes, of course, and were quite optimistic for a good turnout. We'd done a lot of publicity, including a local NPR radio show on Friday afternoon. The Millhopper branch meeting room holds about 100 people, and the goal was to fill it without "going over." Walking up the sidewalk to the entrance, I peeked under the blinds to see a flurry of feet walking around the meeting room. Woo hoo! Good numbers, judging by the shoes. We made our way in, and I stopped for a moment to give huge thanks to our Millhopper branch and Facilities department staffs, who had prepared the room, put out lemonade, and generally gotten set up so that Mary Kay and I could enter like the princesses we are. Looking around, I saw that most of the chairs were full, so I started to snag one for our guest of honor. "Would you like to have a seat before we get started?" I offered.
Mary Kay waved her hand. "Oh, no, honey, I want to talk around and talk to these lovely people!" And off she went, talking with patrons, even questioning one gentleman as to whether he'd gotten lost and found himself in a room full of women. We pulled in a few more chairs from the children's area (it's okay, they were more colorful than they were short) and watched as people filled the room. Many lined up to purchase Mary Kay's titles from a local BooksaMillion, so there were happy faces all around.
When the time came to introduce Mary Kay, I explained that our patrons were in for a fun afternoon but they couldn't necessarily believe everything they heard. "You know, Mary Kay was on NPR on Friday and told the interviewer she was almost a Gator, coming here to UF [insert cheers here], but her dad said it was too wild, and he didn't want her to go to a party school, so she went to UGA instead." I paused. "When I picked her up at the airport last night, I told her that I went to the University of Georgia, too, and she didn't have me fooled for a minute." Mary Kay took the floor, describing the process she went to transition from a journalist who'd covered the trials serving as the basis of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil to a novelist. Her protagonists are strong southern women, and Mary Kay shared that she writes books in which they create homes. These women are decorators and chefs and vintage connoisseurs who make a place in which they belong. Mary Kay is a proud mom and grandma, and the worlds she writes are full of these kinds of women--mature, capable, and occasionally just a tiny bit dysfunctional.
Despite having been speaking and answering questions for more than an hour, Mary Kay moved to the sales table and signed books. A few book clubs attended and got their picture taken with Mary Kay. We counted and realized we'd had 109 people attend, a good number on any day. Our patrons genuinely had a good time, chatting with Mary Kay, each other, and in one instance, the shelver who came in to help restack the chairs. On the ride back to the airport, we chatted like old friends. Mary Kay had actually had a speaking engagement earlier in the day prior while her family held a yard sale, flew to Gainesville while they took the remainder to the thrift shop, and was coming back to continue the process of selling her house and moving into a house around the corner. I guess my expression asked "Around the corner?" because she quickly said it was a long story but would be a wonderful new house with a yard for the grandkids. I dropped her off at arrivals and watched Mary Kay Andrews (OMG, Mary Kay Andrews!) walk into Gainesville's three gate airport.
I truly cannot thank Mary Kay enough for coming to hang out with us on a Sunday afternoon. She's absolutely delightful, and it's a rare event to get to meet one of your favorite authors.
So what does Save the Date refer to? Fans of Mary Kay Andrews will immediately recognize this as the title of her most recent novel, released in June. Mary Kay came to my library a few weeks ago to speak and spend an afternoon talking about and with sassy, southern women. Wait? What? Some of you are thinking, you did this already, right? Didn't Mary Kay come to speak at your library about ten years ago? Are you sure you're not mixing the libraries up? Well, yes, yes she did. But one engagement with Mary Kay is not nearly enough, so I put in a proposal with the too-wonderful-to-be-true folks at the Macmillan Speakers Bureau to bring her to my current library, too. I may or may not have stalked her just a little bit until she said yes.Mary Kay Andrews is a pseudonym for Kathy Trocheck, who wrote ten
critically acclaimed mysteries about a house cleaner named Callahan
Garrity back in the 90’s. As Mary Kay Andrews, she’s turned to writing
about sassy southern women who I’ve often wish could be my best friends
(I would wish I could be those sassy women themselves, but they tend to
get into a lot of trouble, and I think I’m safer on the sidelines). Ladies Night,
which takes place in Bradenton, FL, starts out with a splash when Grace
Stanton discovers her husband has been cheating on her, and in a
perfectly understandable reaction, drives his convertible into the pool.
Anyone who’s enjoyed a bottle of Cheerwine, made in the small town of
Salisbury, NC, will love spending time in Mary Kay’s fictional town of
Pascoe, NC, home of the Quixie Beverage Company, where, in Spring Fever,
Annajane Hudgins thinks she’s over her ex-husband...until she attends
his next wedding. And no one can call herself a Mary Kay Andrews fan
until she’s tagged along with best friends Weezie and BeBe (whose
mother, exhausted from having had eight previous children in ten years,
had settled upon the name BeBe with the French pronunciation of Bay-Bay
for her ninth child) in Savannah Blues, Savannah Breeze, Blue Christmas, and Christmas Bliss. Andrews’ newest book, Save the Date follows wedding florist Cara Kryzik as she tries to
save her business and a budding new romance. These funny, sharp titles,
along with Summer Rental, Hissy Fit, Little Bitty Lies, and Deep Dish, are great beach reads.I first met Mary Kay (and I'm going to call her Mary Kay because, even though her real name is Kathy, I'm easily confused and need to pick one and stick with it) about ten years ago when I worked as an adult services librarian in Raleigh, NC. I knew I had to invite her to speak to our readers when I heard her on NPR answering a phone caller’s question of whether or not men can have hissy fits with the obvious answer: of course they can. They’re called conniptions. She gracious agreed to come to my library, and she was as delightful a speaker as she is a writer. I ran into her again a few months ago at a national library conference (where, incidentally, she ended up sitting at a dinner table with my boss and a bottle of wine while I was in the back of the room). When I finally fought my way up front, she said she would be thrilled to come to Gainesville, and by the way, would we have time to visit any antique stores? Mary Kay is a lifelong “junker” who claims to know the location of every thrift store, flea market, and junk pile in the southeastern United States, and a few parts of Ohio.
The process of bringing Mary Kay to Gainesville was fraught with paperwork but eventually came to be. The only part that made me nervous was the fact that I was picking her up at the airport at 10pm on a Saturday night, and anyone who knows me knows that this is dangerously close to bedtime for me. To make it a little easier, I stopped by the fabulous Sweetwater Inn Bed and Breakfast to check her in so that all she would have to do on arrival is go on up to her room. I briefly considered barricading myself in Julia's room (because gorgeous bed and breakfast suites must have a name) and refusing to come out, sending Mary Kay home to share a bed with Sasha, but I eventually persuaded myself to step away from the hardwood. With the slight exception of her plane having to be towed in the last few feet to the gate, Mary Kay's arrival was smooth and we chatted amiably as I took her to Sweetwater.
The next morning, I picked her up, ready for a short tour of Gainesville before plans for Sunday brunch with some book club members. We'd not gotten three blocks before Mary Kay called out "Stop! Yard sale! Stop!" After a couple of circles while we debated which way the arrows were pointing, we made a quick visit to a local yard sale that had pretty much already been picked over. But it is with great pleasure that I can say that I went to a yard sale with the best junker outside of HGTV.
We made it to brunch at Leonardo's 706, a fantastic local restaurant offering a choice of a buffet or brunch off the menu. They also have this great fresh orange juice with nutmeg and a ton of other fancy stuff, except that I also had to order a mimosa to get the other fancy stuff I wanted. I had invited members of my book club and my boss's book club to join us, so we spent an hour gabbing about favorite books and the merits of Amazon. The food is fabulous, and we spent a good bit of time comparing the buffet to the entrees off the menu. My five cheese omelet was going to need to be split in half and provide dinner as well. A great time had by all, we took some pics and headed for our Millhopper branch, where Mary Kay was scheduled to speak.We were a little unsure of what to expect in terms of attendance. We had high hopes, of course, and were quite optimistic for a good turnout. We'd done a lot of publicity, including a local NPR radio show on Friday afternoon. The Millhopper branch meeting room holds about 100 people, and the goal was to fill it without "going over." Walking up the sidewalk to the entrance, I peeked under the blinds to see a flurry of feet walking around the meeting room. Woo hoo! Good numbers, judging by the shoes. We made our way in, and I stopped for a moment to give huge thanks to our Millhopper branch and Facilities department staffs, who had prepared the room, put out lemonade, and generally gotten set up so that Mary Kay and I could enter like the princesses we are. Looking around, I saw that most of the chairs were full, so I started to snag one for our guest of honor. "Would you like to have a seat before we get started?" I offered.
Mary Kay waved her hand. "Oh, no, honey, I want to talk around and talk to these lovely people!" And off she went, talking with patrons, even questioning one gentleman as to whether he'd gotten lost and found himself in a room full of women. We pulled in a few more chairs from the children's area (it's okay, they were more colorful than they were short) and watched as people filled the room. Many lined up to purchase Mary Kay's titles from a local BooksaMillion, so there were happy faces all around. When the time came to introduce Mary Kay, I explained that our patrons were in for a fun afternoon but they couldn't necessarily believe everything they heard. "You know, Mary Kay was on NPR on Friday and told the interviewer she was almost a Gator, coming here to UF [insert cheers here], but her dad said it was too wild, and he didn't want her to go to a party school, so she went to UGA instead." I paused. "When I picked her up at the airport last night, I told her that I went to the University of Georgia, too, and she didn't have me fooled for a minute." Mary Kay took the floor, describing the process she went to transition from a journalist who'd covered the trials serving as the basis of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil to a novelist. Her protagonists are strong southern women, and Mary Kay shared that she writes books in which they create homes. These women are decorators and chefs and vintage connoisseurs who make a place in which they belong. Mary Kay is a proud mom and grandma, and the worlds she writes are full of these kinds of women--mature, capable, and occasionally just a tiny bit dysfunctional.
Despite having been speaking and answering questions for more than an hour, Mary Kay moved to the sales table and signed books. A few book clubs attended and got their picture taken with Mary Kay. We counted and realized we'd had 109 people attend, a good number on any day. Our patrons genuinely had a good time, chatting with Mary Kay, each other, and in one instance, the shelver who came in to help restack the chairs. On the ride back to the airport, we chatted like old friends. Mary Kay had actually had a speaking engagement earlier in the day prior while her family held a yard sale, flew to Gainesville while they took the remainder to the thrift shop, and was coming back to continue the process of selling her house and moving into a house around the corner. I guess my expression asked "Around the corner?" because she quickly said it was a long story but would be a wonderful new house with a yard for the grandkids. I dropped her off at arrivals and watched Mary Kay Andrews (OMG, Mary Kay Andrews!) walk into Gainesville's three gate airport.I truly cannot thank Mary Kay enough for coming to hang out with us on a Sunday afternoon. She's absolutely delightful, and it's a rare event to get to meet one of your favorite authors.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Joey
I titled this entry just "Joey" because the story I want to share is the story of a real little boy, one with a name, with friends, and with a chance, if someone will give it to him. This is not really my story to tell, so I'm just going to explain why I'm asking you to read the story directly from Joey's mom and hope you let her tell you the story.For a few months now, a friend has been introducing me to Joey through her boys' friendship with him--how complicated insurance is, how generous people have been with donating to Joey's medical expenses, how much Joey loved his birthday party (which I helped cut out Minecraft shapes for, just so you know) even though he was incredibly tired that day. In many ways, Joey is like most fourth grade boys, loving origami, Boy Scouts, and reading. But last year, Joey was diagnosed with cancer, and he needs access to a new line of drugs that are about the only thing left that might make a difference.Below is an email from my friend with links to the blog his mom keeps and the petition requesting that one of the drug companies allow compassionate use of these drugs. I'd be so grateful if you'd take a moment to read his story and consider adding your name to those asking these companies to show that they can be human as well.
Today a friend started a petition on change.org to try to pressure the drug companies to allow Joey to at least try the new medication that shows so much promise. Please sign the petition and forward it on to others. The more public support we get, the more pressure is put on the drug companies.
More information about Joey and his journey is available at teamjoeyx.blogspot.com or https://www.facebook.com/teamjoeyxu
Here is the link to the petition: http://www.change.org/petitions/genentech-please-grant-10-year-old-juntao-joey-xu-compassionate-use-of-your-anti-pd-1-l1-immunotherapy-drug-he-has-exhausted-all-other-options-and-cannot-wait-for-pediatric-trials-to-begin?recruiter=89789658&utm_campaign=signature_receipt&utm_medium=email&utm_source=share_petition#supporters
And if you know someone who might be interested in Joey's story or want to add their name to the petition, please feel free to forward them the information!
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Of Tracy and Tiaras
"Royalty week?" I inquired, perking up from whatever work I was doing at the time. "I have a tiara! Can I wear my tiara? Would it help if I wore my tiara?" Seeing a few raised eyebrows, I backtracked a bit. "You know, to support the children's department?"
Luckily, I had a cohort in my attempt to be treated as a princess. Or a queen. Whatever. My co-worker, Suzi, gasped in amazement. "I have a tiara, too!" she declared, adding "We absolutely have to wear our tiaras for the rest of the week." Or maybe I added that part.
Either way, the next morning, I grabbed my tiara. It really didn't matter whether or not it went with what I was wearing. Tiaras go with everything. I put it on and headed out the door. Only when I knocked it off ducking into the car did it occur to me that it might look odd for someone to be driving down the road with a tiara on, and perhaps I should wait until I was actually in the library to begin my reign. Not that it bothered me, but I didn't want to cause some unsuspecting driver to have an accident.
Funny thing about wearing tiaras, and that's how quickly you forget that you are wearing one. Which explains why I walked into a a meeting of the library's governing board with the tiara still on my head. Maybe it was the tiara that got me noticed by the board chair, starting his meeting by saying to the group "I see we're in the presence of royalty today" and grinning at me. Or maybe it was the fact that I was standing taller, smiling wider, and walking with poise.
And maybe, we don't even need tiaras to see ourselves as beautiful, confident, worthwhile, unique people. But they never hurt.
Saturday, April 12, 2014
The First Time in Twelve Years: Staff Development Day part 2
A staff development or training day is fairly common in public libraries. It's often something like an "all staff" meeting and usually includes some sort of professional development component with speakers and workshops and, in some unfortunate cases, flip chart paper with colored dots. It can be difficult to get everyone together when you're keeping multiple locations open to the public, so this a staff day is frequently the only opportunity available for getting to know co-workers from other branches or providing information to everyone at once. Last month, my library held it's first staff development day in about twelve years.
As seems to be the case with many things in my life, I hadn't intended to get quite so involved. I'm never sure exactly how it happens. I have every intention of just "consulting" or "helping out," but before I know it, I'm in over my head. Sadly, by the time I figure out how that happens, I probably will truly be in over my head. Literally. So, when my boss said she'd like me to sit in on the committee charged with putting this day together, I had visions of telling other people to do things and then sitting back and taking the credit. Everybody's got to have a hobby.
In case you haven't figured out where this is going, that's not how it worked out. I tend to be either all in or all out. I had ideas. I knew people who would be just right for a project. I'd been in a staff day before where we tried that. Quick as a lightning bug (if you don't know how quick that is, you don't live south of the Mason-Dixon), I found myself planning several programs and coaching several staff members who were planning their own. I loved it and had great fun, but I'm going to need a few lifetimes before I have the energy to do that again.
Not that it wasn't worth it. Over the course of only three months, we planned an amazing day. No one who reads here will be surprised to hear that my favorite program was the book buzz I planned. Or buzzes, as there turned out to be three of them. I was able to get representatives from three of the largest publishers in the country to come talk to staff about upcoming books and get them excited about reading in general. This was great fun for me, and I truly could have just listened to these folks talk all day. But in addition to that, I planned a program to promote our music and movie collections by having staff from a local theater and radio group to come in. I got in touch with one of our vendors and arranged for a well-know audio book narrator come speak to all staff for the closing session. AND I planned a program meant to revolve around science fiction and fantasy genres as seen by a local author. Oh, well, there's a story.
I was panicking a little. Staff day was only a few weeks away, and I still didn't know what this science fiction and fantasy program was going to look like. At this point, I was open to anything. I chose the topic because it's not something I read myself, anyone asking me for recommendations in this area strikes fear in my heart, so it seemed like a good subject to learn more about. But where in the world was I supposed to find someone? I started sending out a bunch of emails asking if there was interest out there, mostly to local authors who had done some self-publishing or reading in this area. My inbox remained empty (well, not really, but at least it wasn't full of responses to my call for help). Someone finally suggested I ask a co-worker known for reading in this area for help. It was like the clouds parted.
"I haven't even been able to reach this author," I explained, pointing to a name in my notebook. "He's self-published, but he seems to have made a good name for himself around here. His emails keep bouncing back to me with a bad address!" I slammed the notebook in exasperation.
My colleague waved her hand. "Oh, I'm Facebook friends with him," she dismissed me quickly. "I'll send him a message and ask if he'd come speak for us."
Having recovered from my heart attack, I told her that the one person I hadn't tried to contact was a rather well-known author who happened to be local and who'd been venturing into fantasy. It would be quite a coup, and I hadn't thought I really had a shot. She encouraged me to go for it, and so I dashed off an email asking if he'd be willing to participate in some way. I described my thoughts of talking about the genres, making recommendations for reading, maybe talking about the publishing process in this genre. Imagine my surprise when I got almost an immediate reply asking for the date. Yes, I'd managed to email this practically-famous author and forget to include the date of the event. I sent it off to him, told him we'd love to work with him if possible, and asked my co-worker to take over the negotiations. It was a week before we got a confirmation that he could attend; meanwhile, the author my co-worker contacted via Facebook had also come through. How exciting--two very different people with different perspectives. Great! So we thought. Until about a week ahead of the event, when the major author's wife emailed to say that there must have been a "misunderstanding" and that the author couldn't possibly sit on a panel with a self-published author--she was sure we understood obligations to his publisher. It was incredibly disappointing, in great part because of the tone of this woman's email. It's almost certain that this author's publisher would not have had a problem with this. He didn't confirm acceptance right away, so yes, we agreed to another author and could only be excited at the thought of multiple points of view for our staff. We gave him some ideas of what we had in mind but let him know we were totally open to what kind of program this could be. Never did he get back to us and say anything like "here's what I'd like to do" or "here's what I'd need to be able to do this." While I sort of understand it, to actually pull out of an accepted invitation to speak to about 40 staff members at your LOCAL PUBLIC LIBRARY for about 45 minutes is just not very nice. He (or his wife) lost an opportunity to get staff to talk up his books to patrons.
I guess I'm still bitter.
But the day arrived, and the committee had put together a really fantastic program. Against all odds, we managed to get funding for a light breakfast, lunch, and snacks for the staff so they could take their break times to network with their co-workers instead of seeking sustenance. One staff member had put together an amazing slide show of pictures of staff and programs from all locations. It played all day, and it was a great gathering point for staff before the day started and between workshops. A few staff members read tarot cards during the morning "meet and greet" as a bit of a low-key ice breaker. We had a couple of very impressive speakers to discuss various aspects of customer service, and our opening session involved bananas, Fiji, and a speaker in Bermuda shorts. What else could you want?
Books, of course. Lots and lots of books. The publisher reps coming to buzz about upcoming titles had a ton of galleys to share, and they did a fantastic job of getting staff excited about the books they were reading. The comments we received in the evaluations staff completed the next day confirmed that staff love getting books and tote bags.
Other workshop options were endless. There was training on the human resources used by supervisors and on tips and tricks for using the library's database and circulation software. There were hands on sessions for getting into "computer guts" and hand held reading devices. We had several sessions on the psychology behind providing excellent customer service, even to unusual patrons...even to unusual coworkers! One speaker spoke to interview skills. A couple of children's department staff members, recently back from a workshop on face painting and balloon animals, shared their new-found skills with programmers looking for new ideas, alongside a storytelling session led by some retired staff members and a representative of a local storytelling group. Our county provided a speaker from the folks running our retirement plans on financial planning and investing. Even the staff in facilities had some sessions aimed directly at them with training in basic Excel and energy management. We really could not have asked for a better selection of programs.
At the end of the day, we all came back together for what might have been most staff members' favorite speaker, the audio book narrator. He offered a great combination of information about the production and narrating of one of our most popular material formats and humor...they were rolling in the aisles. The great thing was that this was something that could appeal to almost everyone. The narrator works primarily with children's books, though he's done adult titles as well, so he'd had experiences that were familiar to all of us. We learned lots of insider info that we could share with our audio book listeners. And with the exception of one staff member who later said he didn't enjoy the narrator's sense of humor, all the feedback indicated they found him hysterically funny. It was a great way to end the day on a positive note.
The evaluations came in, and the response was great. For the most part, everyone enjoyed the day, felt they learned something, reconnected with staff they don't see often, and had a good time. Some of the evaluation comments were entertaining:
I think I can now work with my co-workers.
I didn't understand how lunch worked.
Free stuff!
He's so sexy!
I liked the lady who read the Hello, Kitty! book.
He's so fluffy I'm gonna die! (Okay, that's actually a quote from Despicable Me 2, but it makes me laugh every time I hear it)
Even the critiques were fair and helpful, and we've got some good ideas about where to improve next time.
Wait, there's going to be a next time?
As seems to be the case with many things in my life, I hadn't intended to get quite so involved. I'm never sure exactly how it happens. I have every intention of just "consulting" or "helping out," but before I know it, I'm in over my head. Sadly, by the time I figure out how that happens, I probably will truly be in over my head. Literally. So, when my boss said she'd like me to sit in on the committee charged with putting this day together, I had visions of telling other people to do things and then sitting back and taking the credit. Everybody's got to have a hobby.
In case you haven't figured out where this is going, that's not how it worked out. I tend to be either all in or all out. I had ideas. I knew people who would be just right for a project. I'd been in a staff day before where we tried that. Quick as a lightning bug (if you don't know how quick that is, you don't live south of the Mason-Dixon), I found myself planning several programs and coaching several staff members who were planning their own. I loved it and had great fun, but I'm going to need a few lifetimes before I have the energy to do that again.
Not that it wasn't worth it. Over the course of only three months, we planned an amazing day. No one who reads here will be surprised to hear that my favorite program was the book buzz I planned. Or buzzes, as there turned out to be three of them. I was able to get representatives from three of the largest publishers in the country to come talk to staff about upcoming books and get them excited about reading in general. This was great fun for me, and I truly could have just listened to these folks talk all day. But in addition to that, I planned a program to promote our music and movie collections by having staff from a local theater and radio group to come in. I got in touch with one of our vendors and arranged for a well-know audio book narrator come speak to all staff for the closing session. AND I planned a program meant to revolve around science fiction and fantasy genres as seen by a local author. Oh, well, there's a story.
I was panicking a little. Staff day was only a few weeks away, and I still didn't know what this science fiction and fantasy program was going to look like. At this point, I was open to anything. I chose the topic because it's not something I read myself, anyone asking me for recommendations in this area strikes fear in my heart, so it seemed like a good subject to learn more about. But where in the world was I supposed to find someone? I started sending out a bunch of emails asking if there was interest out there, mostly to local authors who had done some self-publishing or reading in this area. My inbox remained empty (well, not really, but at least it wasn't full of responses to my call for help). Someone finally suggested I ask a co-worker known for reading in this area for help. It was like the clouds parted.
"I haven't even been able to reach this author," I explained, pointing to a name in my notebook. "He's self-published, but he seems to have made a good name for himself around here. His emails keep bouncing back to me with a bad address!" I slammed the notebook in exasperation.
My colleague waved her hand. "Oh, I'm Facebook friends with him," she dismissed me quickly. "I'll send him a message and ask if he'd come speak for us."
Having recovered from my heart attack, I told her that the one person I hadn't tried to contact was a rather well-known author who happened to be local and who'd been venturing into fantasy. It would be quite a coup, and I hadn't thought I really had a shot. She encouraged me to go for it, and so I dashed off an email asking if he'd be willing to participate in some way. I described my thoughts of talking about the genres, making recommendations for reading, maybe talking about the publishing process in this genre. Imagine my surprise when I got almost an immediate reply asking for the date. Yes, I'd managed to email this practically-famous author and forget to include the date of the event. I sent it off to him, told him we'd love to work with him if possible, and asked my co-worker to take over the negotiations. It was a week before we got a confirmation that he could attend; meanwhile, the author my co-worker contacted via Facebook had also come through. How exciting--two very different people with different perspectives. Great! So we thought. Until about a week ahead of the event, when the major author's wife emailed to say that there must have been a "misunderstanding" and that the author couldn't possibly sit on a panel with a self-published author--she was sure we understood obligations to his publisher. It was incredibly disappointing, in great part because of the tone of this woman's email. It's almost certain that this author's publisher would not have had a problem with this. He didn't confirm acceptance right away, so yes, we agreed to another author and could only be excited at the thought of multiple points of view for our staff. We gave him some ideas of what we had in mind but let him know we were totally open to what kind of program this could be. Never did he get back to us and say anything like "here's what I'd like to do" or "here's what I'd need to be able to do this." While I sort of understand it, to actually pull out of an accepted invitation to speak to about 40 staff members at your LOCAL PUBLIC LIBRARY for about 45 minutes is just not very nice. He (or his wife) lost an opportunity to get staff to talk up his books to patrons.
I guess I'm still bitter.
But the day arrived, and the committee had put together a really fantastic program. Against all odds, we managed to get funding for a light breakfast, lunch, and snacks for the staff so they could take their break times to network with their co-workers instead of seeking sustenance. One staff member had put together an amazing slide show of pictures of staff and programs from all locations. It played all day, and it was a great gathering point for staff before the day started and between workshops. A few staff members read tarot cards during the morning "meet and greet" as a bit of a low-key ice breaker. We had a couple of very impressive speakers to discuss various aspects of customer service, and our opening session involved bananas, Fiji, and a speaker in Bermuda shorts. What else could you want?
Books, of course. Lots and lots of books. The publisher reps coming to buzz about upcoming titles had a ton of galleys to share, and they did a fantastic job of getting staff excited about the books they were reading. The comments we received in the evaluations staff completed the next day confirmed that staff love getting books and tote bags.
Other workshop options were endless. There was training on the human resources used by supervisors and on tips and tricks for using the library's database and circulation software. There were hands on sessions for getting into "computer guts" and hand held reading devices. We had several sessions on the psychology behind providing excellent customer service, even to unusual patrons...even to unusual coworkers! One speaker spoke to interview skills. A couple of children's department staff members, recently back from a workshop on face painting and balloon animals, shared their new-found skills with programmers looking for new ideas, alongside a storytelling session led by some retired staff members and a representative of a local storytelling group. Our county provided a speaker from the folks running our retirement plans on financial planning and investing. Even the staff in facilities had some sessions aimed directly at them with training in basic Excel and energy management. We really could not have asked for a better selection of programs.
At the end of the day, we all came back together for what might have been most staff members' favorite speaker, the audio book narrator. He offered a great combination of information about the production and narrating of one of our most popular material formats and humor...they were rolling in the aisles. The great thing was that this was something that could appeal to almost everyone. The narrator works primarily with children's books, though he's done adult titles as well, so he'd had experiences that were familiar to all of us. We learned lots of insider info that we could share with our audio book listeners. And with the exception of one staff member who later said he didn't enjoy the narrator's sense of humor, all the feedback indicated they found him hysterically funny. It was a great way to end the day on a positive note.
The evaluations came in, and the response was great. For the most part, everyone enjoyed the day, felt they learned something, reconnected with staff they don't see often, and had a good time. Some of the evaluation comments were entertaining:
I think I can now work with my co-workers.
I didn't understand how lunch worked.
Free stuff!
He's so sexy!
I liked the lady who read the Hello, Kitty! book.
He's so fluffy I'm gonna die! (Okay, that's actually a quote from Despicable Me 2, but it makes me laugh every time I hear it)
Even the critiques were fair and helpful, and we've got some good ideas about where to improve next time.
Wait, there's going to be a next time?
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
The Publisher's Marketing Manager and the Diseased Brownies: Staff Development Day part 1
Someone was in my apartment this weekend. Happily, it was an invited someone and not a stranger.
While working in Raleigh, I was lucky enough to get to know the library marketing manager for a major publisher who was telecommuting from Chapel Hill. Recently, she agreed to come down and be part of a book buzz at my current library's staff development day. Talia is a ball of energy and has a sense of humor that rivals my own, so I asked her stay with me while she was in town. Not only was it the least I could do, but she'd be great entertainment for the weekend.
I picked her up from the airport on a sunny Sunday morning. "Oh!" she commented. "Its so pretty here!" Talia is nothing if not very well-mannered.
"Don't judge Gainesville by this side of town," I warned her. Because despite her enthusiasm, we were driving through an industrial area on our way into downtown and the edge of campus.
She was insistent. "But, it's Florida!" she exclaimed. Considering that she'd just left a snow-covered North Carolina, anyplace where she could see pavement was probably acceptable.
"Well, now," I responded, raising my eyebrows, "you don't see any palm trees, do you?" I explained that, in many ways, Gainesville and northern Florida is not like the rest of Florida, with a different climate and topography. Talia dismissed this with a wave of her hand. She was happy just to be anywhere in Florida. I love people who are easy to please.
My mind never being very far from food, I asked Talia if she was hungry. She tilted her head like she was considering this when I added, "I made brunch reservations for ten minutes from now."
She beamed. "Oh, good, I'm starving." Once again, easy to please.
Brunch was lovely, full of excellent food and talking over one another in between bites. We were especially amused by the man who was charged with keeping the buffet full and fresh and found it necessary to announce what he was delivering at every pass through the dining room. Afterwards, we made a requisite trip trip through Target, as I wanted to illustrate that the floorplan of the Gainesville Target is simply wrong. We love Target (and since Talia found two pairs of shoes in less than ten minutes, I'm including her in the Target heartfest), but this one really needs to be rearranged. I'm just saying.
Making it back to my apartment, Talia finally got to meet Sasha. I think it was pretty clear that Sasha would have been all over her immediately if it wasn't for her even more immediate need for Fancy Feast. A girl's gotta have priorities. We settled in, and it wasn't long before Sasha's affinity for my lap was quickly replaced.
At this point, I need to explain that I had prepared for Talia's visit and the upcoming Staff Development Day with boxes of brownies and lemon bars. I rarely cook or bake (if you can call mixing up something from a box baking), but I had someone here to encourage me and an event at which I could share, so what better time to pull out the mixing bowls? Also, I could blame someone else if they didn't come out right. I spent a good bit of time comparing mixes to make just the right choice for this rare baking event. Some of the rejected candidates include:
I settled on a box of lemon bars and a different brand of chocolate chip cookie brownies. Talia, being of similar mind, agreed that there was really no need to venture back out of the apartment when we had perfectly good brownies for dinner, not to mention the entire first season of Breaking Bad to watch.
We started with the lemon bars, Talia quickly showing mad baking skills by preparing the mix. "I need a tablespoon of water," she read from the box. This being something I could manage, I grabbed a measuring spoon and prepared the water. While she continued with the mix, I greased the pan. "How smooth do you think this needs to be?" she asked me. Like I knew. Luckily, we were working on a bottle of wine, so after a while, the texture of the lemon bar mix just didn't seem all that important.
Talia having the lemon bars under control, I moved on to the cookie brownies. See Tracy bake. You might never see it again.
Talia helped me finish the cookie brownies by dropping teaspoons of chocolate chip cookie mix onto the brownie batter already in the pan. "This doesn't look right," she said, peering at the pan.
"It's brownies and chocolate chip cookies. How's it supposed to look?" I responded, motioning her to keep going. Eventually, we popped the pans into the oven and turned back to the counters to clean up (and I say that like it wasn't Talia who ended up doing the dishes. Great manners, that one.). "Um, whats that?" I asked, pointing at the measuring spoon of water for the lemon bars, still on the counter. Talia looked stricken. She looked at the measuring spoon. She looked at the oven. She looked back at the measuring spoon. She looked at me. I shrugged.
"The lemon bars are going to be a bit dry," she announced.
We settled into the living room. Talia got me invested in Breaking Bad while we waited, so my perfect Sunday afternoon of food, wine, friends, and television was complete.
At one point, she got up to check on the brownies. "I really don't think these look right," she called from the kitchen. "They're diseased! They look like they have small pox!"
"Well, they smell great," I replied. I was not to be deterred from chocolate and sugar that easily. A short time later, we went in to pull them out of the oven. She was right. The cookie brownies kind of looked diseased. Or like a Jersey Cow. One of those. Talia refused to bring them to Staff Development Day, saying she wanted nothing to do with diseased brownies. But because we'd pulled them out of the oven just a bit early, they were nice and gooey and tasted just fine. Even if they were diseased.
Coming soon: Staff Development Day part 2
While working in Raleigh, I was lucky enough to get to know the library marketing manager for a major publisher who was telecommuting from Chapel Hill. Recently, she agreed to come down and be part of a book buzz at my current library's staff development day. Talia is a ball of energy and has a sense of humor that rivals my own, so I asked her stay with me while she was in town. Not only was it the least I could do, but she'd be great entertainment for the weekend.
I picked her up from the airport on a sunny Sunday morning. "Oh!" she commented. "Its so pretty here!" Talia is nothing if not very well-mannered.
"Don't judge Gainesville by this side of town," I warned her. Because despite her enthusiasm, we were driving through an industrial area on our way into downtown and the edge of campus.
She was insistent. "But, it's Florida!" she exclaimed. Considering that she'd just left a snow-covered North Carolina, anyplace where she could see pavement was probably acceptable.
"Well, now," I responded, raising my eyebrows, "you don't see any palm trees, do you?" I explained that, in many ways, Gainesville and northern Florida is not like the rest of Florida, with a different climate and topography. Talia dismissed this with a wave of her hand. She was happy just to be anywhere in Florida. I love people who are easy to please.
My mind never being very far from food, I asked Talia if she was hungry. She tilted her head like she was considering this when I added, "I made brunch reservations for ten minutes from now."
She beamed. "Oh, good, I'm starving." Once again, easy to please.
Brunch was lovely, full of excellent food and talking over one another in between bites. We were especially amused by the man who was charged with keeping the buffet full and fresh and found it necessary to announce what he was delivering at every pass through the dining room. Afterwards, we made a requisite trip trip through Target, as I wanted to illustrate that the floorplan of the Gainesville Target is simply wrong. We love Target (and since Talia found two pairs of shoes in less than ten minutes, I'm including her in the Target heartfest), but this one really needs to be rearranged. I'm just saying.
Making it back to my apartment, Talia finally got to meet Sasha. I think it was pretty clear that Sasha would have been all over her immediately if it wasn't for her even more immediate need for Fancy Feast. A girl's gotta have priorities. We settled in, and it wasn't long before Sasha's affinity for my lap was quickly replaced.
At this point, I need to explain that I had prepared for Talia's visit and the upcoming Staff Development Day with boxes of brownies and lemon bars. I rarely cook or bake (if you can call mixing up something from a box baking), but I had someone here to encourage me and an event at which I could share, so what better time to pull out the mixing bowls? Also, I could blame someone else if they didn't come out right. I spent a good bit of time comparing mixes to make just the right choice for this rare baking event. Some of the rejected candidates include:
 |
| I can't eat multi-colored food, especially if one of the colors is blue. |
 |
| Is there enough cookie in that brownie? |
 |
| Maybe others don't like PB & Chocolate as much as I do |
 |
| Way too reminiscent of something healthy |
 |
| I try to buy American |
I settled on a box of lemon bars and a different brand of chocolate chip cookie brownies. Talia, being of similar mind, agreed that there was really no need to venture back out of the apartment when we had perfectly good brownies for dinner, not to mention the entire first season of Breaking Bad to watch.
We started with the lemon bars, Talia quickly showing mad baking skills by preparing the mix. "I need a tablespoon of water," she read from the box. This being something I could manage, I grabbed a measuring spoon and prepared the water. While she continued with the mix, I greased the pan. "How smooth do you think this needs to be?" she asked me. Like I knew. Luckily, we were working on a bottle of wine, so after a while, the texture of the lemon bar mix just didn't seem all that important.
Talia having the lemon bars under control, I moved on to the cookie brownies. See Tracy bake. You might never see it again.
"It's brownies and chocolate chip cookies. How's it supposed to look?" I responded, motioning her to keep going. Eventually, we popped the pans into the oven and turned back to the counters to clean up (and I say that like it wasn't Talia who ended up doing the dishes. Great manners, that one.). "Um, whats that?" I asked, pointing at the measuring spoon of water for the lemon bars, still on the counter. Talia looked stricken. She looked at the measuring spoon. She looked at the oven. She looked back at the measuring spoon. She looked at me. I shrugged.
"The lemon bars are going to be a bit dry," she announced.
We settled into the living room. Talia got me invested in Breaking Bad while we waited, so my perfect Sunday afternoon of food, wine, friends, and television was complete.
At one point, she got up to check on the brownies. "I really don't think these look right," she called from the kitchen. "They're diseased! They look like they have small pox!"
"Well, they smell great," I replied. I was not to be deterred from chocolate and sugar that easily. A short time later, we went in to pull them out of the oven. She was right. The cookie brownies kind of looked diseased. Or like a Jersey Cow. One of those. Talia refused to bring them to Staff Development Day, saying she wanted nothing to do with diseased brownies. But because we'd pulled them out of the oven just a bit early, they were nice and gooey and tasted just fine. Even if they were diseased.
Sunday, February 9, 2014
Keeping Up with the Joneses
This morning (just to be clear, morning on a Sunday refers to noon to 2pm), I finally got to catch up on some book reviews I've been wanting to write. My need to do them justice means I've put it off longer than I should (kind of like my blog entries), which means I've probably forgotten the best thoughts I had while reading them, which means everyone else I know has already reviewed the same books, probably better, and tweeted them far and wide, which means...well, you get the picture.My name is Tracy, and I'm a book addict. I love talking with other people about what we're reading, and I love sharing my thoughts about what I've read with other people. Is that the same thing? In any case, I'm extremely lucky to be have a number of outlets for my addiction. As a librarian, many of my co-workers share this fondness for books, if not always to the obsessive level at which I find myself. I've had opportunities for getting to know publisher representatives at conferences, and I try to repay their kindnesses by sending along my thoughts about the many advance copies of upcoming books they send me. I have an account at Edelweiss, which the uninitiated might think is a Sound of Music Fan Club, but no, is actually an online community of publishers, booksellers, and librarians offering purchasing opportunities for booksellers and digital advance copies for book pushers (I told you it was an addiction). Recent improvements have made it a fantastic spot for sharing reviews with colleagues and publishers, and most recently, for voting for favorite books among librarians nation-wide in, to be shared with patrons via the new LibraryReads program, who love to know what librarians are reading (as well they should). Similarly, while I continue to refuse to get back on Facebook, I haunt Goodreads, which allows me to see what the general public is reading and enjoying as well as friends and family. I finally gave in and got a Twitter account, which is quite busy considering I use it only for keeping up with book, author, publisher, and library-related news. I've said it once, and I'll say it again...authors are my rock stars. And I try to participate in GalleyChat, a monthly chat about the advances my fellow librarians are reading sponsored by the fabulous Earlyword.
And, you know, it's starting to feel a little like I'm that kid in school who can't manage to keep up with the rest of the class. Or that person in the neighborhood who has the smallest house and not nearly as many bells and whistles as the people next door. Don't get me wrong. I adore being part of all of these stomping grounds. But I'm amazed at how far ahead everyone else seems to be! They're putting out multiple reviews a month and seem to have read everything out there before it's ever published. I do read a few advances a month, but there's plenty out there I haven't read even AFTER it's been published, so I'd like to pull one of those out once in a while as well. And while there's a time and place for every type of book, my taste generally seems to run to less literary books than some of the people on these sites, so even when I've read several advances in time for a GalleyChat or a LibraryReads voting deadline, they're not necessarily the books everyone's talking about. I don't know how these folks manage to read everything they do as far ahead as they do!
So, I keep working at it. I'm nothing if not stubborn. I threw myself into it this morning and wrote several reviews of books that I really feel strongly about and want to share, maybe convincing someone to try one who wouldn't have otherwise. This is why I wanted to be a librarian from the start. It takes time to then post your review to all these places and hit all the people who might be interested, but it can be worth it. Last week, a friend submitted a 4 of 5 rating for a book I'd suggested to her, but which I'm not sure would have come across her radar otherwise. After I posted my reviews to what felt like a million places this morning, the author of one of them squealed "thank you!" back at me. Last time I commented on GalleyChat, the publisher retweated it to its thousands of followers. And I persevere. I may eventually be persevering via fewer venues, but I persist nonetheless.
But at the same time, I'm not going to lose the love I have for books by trying to keep up with all those people out there who seem to be ahead of me in their zeal for commenting on new books ahead of publication. Three of the four books I reviewed this morning have already published. One was published several months ago, but I decided to share my fondness for it anyway. I mostly only review books that I want to recommend, and I'm going to do so whether the book is new or not. If I can fit in some of those same advances everyone else is tweeting about, great. I have an unofficial 50 page rule, the general spirit being that life's too short and there are too many good books out there to keep reading something I'm not enjoying, advance publicity or not. I also really like listening to audio books, which generally don't come out in an advance form ahead of the print release, so if that means everyone's talking about it before I get there, well, then I'll have something to look forward to.
And now I must go get ready for my library's upcoming Book Buzz, at which we'll have not one, not two, but THREE major publisher representatives live and in person to tell us what's going to be hot this Spring and Summer. I'm a lucky girl.
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
Unwritten Rules
“How are you?
It’s a rule. Leave an
empty stall between you and the next person in a public bathroom. Don’t double dip the Ruffles. You have thirty seconds to pick up food from
the floor before it becomes contaminated (this is known as the “30-second rule”
and is widely thought to have originated with college students). Calories don’t count if you eat standing up,
and eating directly out of the ice cream box while standing up actually results
in negative calories. And, at all costs, don’t talk to other patients in the
waiting room of the doctor's office. In fact, don’t even look at them. Your eyes
will burn and you will go blind. You might pick up the cold to end all colds. Everyone knows these things. No one has to
tell you. They’re the rules.
So when I heard someone behind me ask how I was doing as I
waited for the receptionist in the doctor’s office to finish her phone call
(how does she type with nails that long?) so she could take my co-pay, I was certain I hadn’t heard correctly. Are you new? Don’t you
know that you’re not supposed to talk to other people in a doctor’s office? My
heart beat faster. She can’t possibly be talking to me.
“Are you doing okay today?
Crap. She is talking to me. She should be averting her eyes and pretending she doesn’t see
me. Why isn’t she staring with fascination at the abstract painting
of…something abstract…on the wall? I don’t understand.
I turned slowly towards the woman, glaring at the
receptionist in the process, who was watching with undisguised curiosity as her
fingers continued to fly over the keyboard (how does she do that?) and she held what appeared to be quite an animated
phone conversation. Clearly, I was on my own here.
“Oh,” I replied, carefully arranging a puzzled look on my
face, “Fine, thanks.” Anyone with any sense
would hear “I can’t imagine why you’re asking.
Be gone with you.” I wished I could add the visual effect of waving my
fingers like I’m trying to brush her away, but it seemed an unnecessary
embellishment to what should be a pretty obvious dismissal.
But I’d forgotten that this woman clearly didn’t know the
unwritten rules and was, evidently, not the sharpest tool in the shed anyway.
Or maybe she was just persistent. Either way, she was not to be deterred.
“Oh, okay." She was unconvinced. Her dark brown curls bounced as she cocked
her head to the side and peered at me from behind her big, round glasses. She seemed rather ordinary, normal even, so I
didn’t know why her upbringing had not included an introduction to
the unwritten rules. She must have been neglected as a child. Raised by a
Honduran nanny, maybe.
The receptionist had now finished her phone call and glanced
at the woman a little uneasily before taking my credit card. Do they train doctor’s receptionists on how to recognize crazy? Was this woman unstable? I
remember practicing in school for emergencies with fire drills, tornado drills,
even bomb threat drills, but I don’t think we had crazy drills. However, I
breathed a sigh of relief that I could now turn away from Crazy Lady and back
to the receptionist. Surely this would
make her take the hint.
Disappointed, Crazy Lady struggled to accept the inattention.
“So, which doctor do you see?” Are you kidding me? What have I done to give you the
impression that I want to chat? I signed my credit card slip and closed my
eyes. Maybe if I couldn’t see
Crazy Lady, she wouldn’t be able to see me.
Or she would disappear by the time I opened my eyes.
“Who's your doctor?” she repeated. My God, this woman just wouldn’t give up. Did
she think I just hadn’t heard her the first time? Obviously, this was going to
require a different approach. I didn’t
have time for etiquette lessons. I looked pointedly at the receptionist (possibly
she keeps her nails this long in case she needs them as weapons against
patients like Crazy Lady) and began to discuss how to get my lab results
with the importance with which one might discuss the next presidential election.
Or AIDS research. Or nuclear war.
This did not go over well with Crazy Lady. “Oh, I see, you
don’t want to tell me.” She stares down
at the floor for a few seconds. NOW she gets a clue. But I’ve hurt her feelings
in the process. Why is this bothering me? I didn’t do anything. Except upset
what is probably a very nice lady who is more than a little bit crackers. That
can’t be a good way to go. Bad karma. Crazy lady, probably already on the verge
of a psychotic break, paused to consider her next question.
The receptionist, with the speed usually found only in
turtles, handed me the card with the lab's web site address. She was no doubt enjoying this
exchange. Probably saw it two or three times a day. So how come she couldn’t
jump in and save me? Did I mention that I don't understand?
Crazy Lady took one last shot. “So, are the doctors here
better with men or women?” What? What kind of question is that? I just moved here and was only here long enough to get some blood taken. How would I know? Wait, maybe
she’s not asking me. Of course. She must
be asking the increasingly amused receptionist. But no, I discovered, glancing
over to my left, she was still looking at me. I looked back at the receptionist, eye to eye,
mentally arm wrestling for the responsibility of having to respond to Crazy
Lady. She held my gaze, slowly pushing my imaginary arm down further. I lost.
I tucked my appointment card into my purse. “I imagine it
depends on who you see” I suggested brightly, zipping my purse and throwing one
last plea for help back at the receptionist. When did it get to be my
responsibility to train others in the unwritten rules? Not my pig, not my farm.
Crazy Lady, a little unsure as to what to do with this
response, stood quietly, waiting for more.
I smiled tightly as I began to walk out of the office. Her education was complete.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Countdown to the New Year and an Old You
Ten!
My favorite books are older than the people to whom I want to recommend them.
Nine!
I had to ask my boss for help with Facebook.
Eight!
I can manage to reach down to the floor in one smooth movement, but it takes three awkward movements and several pops and cracks before I can get up again. And I tried to do something else on the floor while I was down there. Possibly clean something. But probably not.
Seven!
When I saw a woman approach a young man and whisper "Do you know your pants are falling down, honey?" I actually thought "You go girl!"
Six!
My cat was born before the people who graduated high school this summer.
Six point five!
My medicine cabinet has actual medicine in it.
Five!
I still own a VCR. In fairness, I can't remember the last time I used it, but I do still have it. And two tapes from 1987 full of 21 Jump Street episodes. Why else would I still have it?
Four!
I thought my eyes had a lovely new shine to them until I realized it was my progressive lenses.
Four point five!
When someone says we're meeting at 10, I no longer assume that means 10pm.
Three!
People have started to tell me that I've already told them that story.Which I kind of remembered having told, but I couldn't remember to who.
Two!
My favorite television station is no longer MTV but HGTV.
Two point Five!
I start a blog entry in 2013, intending for it to be the last of the year, but end up finishing it in 2014.
Oooooonnnnnnneeeee!
When I open my web browser to entertainment news, I don't know who half of the people being mentioned are or recognize most of the names. Nor do I care.
Happy New Year!
PS: I would have listed my affinity for going to Target rather than to a local bar or dance club, but I think Target is the place to be no matter how old you are. Or is that just another sign that I'm getting old?
Saturday, December 28, 2013
It's a Small World
A name like mine, the English translation of which has been rumored to mean "woman chaser," means that I'm rarely mistaken for someone else. I do not get calls for someone else with the same name. I do not get pizzas delivered to me mistakenly because the people down the street have a name one letter off of mine (although I've considered changing my name for just this sort of opportunity). And I do not get prescriptions meant for someone else because our names looked so much alike. I DO have to spell my name repeatedly to people who can't quite wrap their mind around the idea that not everyone is named Smith or Jones.
All of which means that I was not all that surprised when I recently found a piece of mail in my box addressed to my family with the name misspelled by two letters. While I am not usually confused for someone else, my name is frequently misspelled, so I didn't think much of it. But I did look at the envelope more closely. It was clearly a Christmas card. Who was sending me a Christmas card but couldn't manage to spell my name correctly? The return address was a name I didn't recognize, but it was in the town in which I was born in New Jersey, so perhaps it was a family member who had married into a name that didn't immediately ring a bell. Despite the fact that I'm horrible about sending out Christmas cards, amazingly enough, I continue to receive some, even from family that I don't often see. But wouldn't you think a family member would know how to spell my name? I squinted at the envelope. Look at that.The apartment number was one digit off as well. These folks must really have been in a hurry to get out their Christmas cards.
I threw the envelope in my bag and headed into my apartment. My bag being something of a black hole, I didn't see or think about it again for several days. When the weekend arrived, and I began pulling apart all of the items I'd thrown in there during the week, I once again peered at the envelope. Finally curious enough to actually open it, I found one of those photo-cards with holiday greetings from a family that appeared to be made up of a couple and their young daughter. Cute. But I still didn't know who these people were. Now, the older I get, the worse my memory is getting, and I'm lucky I can remember where to go home each day. The name was almost mine. The apartment number was only one digit off. And it was in my mailbox. Was it possible that this card wasn't meant for me?
Because anything worth knowing can be found on Google, I decided to Google the name as written on the envelope, along with "Gainesville, Florida," and see if I could find any evidence that someone by that exact name did exist. And, indeed, they did. It seemed that there was a couple with that last name here in Gainesville, although every reference to an address that turned up was on the other side of town. Still, it was awfully coincidental. Even more interesting, the man was a customer service manager with Publix, which made me laugh, since we'd been having great discussion about having someone representing Publix's excellent customer service philosophy speak at our upcoming Staff Development Day. Maybe this was a sign.
I marveled at the way all of this came together and considered the evidence. Let me get this straight. Someone with a name just a few letters off of my extremely usual moniker lived in the apartment across the breezeway from mine. In the city in Florida to which I moved only nine months ago. And knows people in the small New Jersey town in which I was born. Does exactly the job that my co-workers were saying needs to be covered at a work function. It couldn't be more obvious that I needed to meet these people. Now, I quite value my alone time and am careful about when I choose to increase the circle of people around me. Plus, I don't usually know my neighbors. Not that I don't want to, really, but then they want to start borrowing a cup of sugar and eggs, and, well...I don't cook.
But I was beginning to feel the need to make an exception. I just don't come across people with a similar name to mine very often, and certainly not one with connections to to my hometown (even if I did only live there for the first six months of my life). I wanted to know these people. In fact, I was sort of excited about meeting my neighbors. Maybe they even knew people that my family knew. Their friends on the Christmas card looked nice enough, anyway.
And then I remembered. Just a couple of weeks ago, I'd noticed that the apartment complex management was updating that apartment. The door stood wide open for two days while they hauled in the new kitchen cabinets and sink from the front lawn (thank goodness, as I was really cranky about the kitchen sink laying out on the grass like this was a junk yard). Evidently, the last residents had moved out, and they were updating before new people moved in. I wouldn't know, what with never really meeting the previous residents and all. But it seemed a reasonable assessment. At the time, I only noticed this in relation to the fact that I was still living in an apartment needing upgrading while the one across the breezeway was getting a face life. I could leave for two days, if that's all it took. But now, I felt disappointed, realizing that my chance to know the people who could be distant cousins had passed. There would be no exclamations of delight over how close our name were. No "do you know...'s?" over people in New Jersey that we might have in common (okay, since I lived there as a baby and haven't been back in more years than I like to count, this was unlikely, but one can hope). No offers to come speak at my library's training day. For free. Despondent, I set the envelope back down. So much for a reunion.
I am amazed at how many connections we have to one another that we don't even know about. My dad's cousin married a boy who used to play with my mom when they were kids. A friend has been babysitting for the daughter of one of my favorite authors. The person running the volunteer program with which I occasionally help out used to run a
similar program back in Raleigh and knew a good friend of mine. Ferris Bueller's sister Jeannie ran into people all over town who, it turned out, knew her brother and were greatly impacted by his supposed illness. You never know when an unexpected network gets a little bigger. Or, could get a little bigger if people just wouldn't move before you go introduce yourself. As Ferris said, life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.
All of which means that I was not all that surprised when I recently found a piece of mail in my box addressed to my family with the name misspelled by two letters. While I am not usually confused for someone else, my name is frequently misspelled, so I didn't think much of it. But I did look at the envelope more closely. It was clearly a Christmas card. Who was sending me a Christmas card but couldn't manage to spell my name correctly? The return address was a name I didn't recognize, but it was in the town in which I was born in New Jersey, so perhaps it was a family member who had married into a name that didn't immediately ring a bell. Despite the fact that I'm horrible about sending out Christmas cards, amazingly enough, I continue to receive some, even from family that I don't often see. But wouldn't you think a family member would know how to spell my name? I squinted at the envelope. Look at that.The apartment number was one digit off as well. These folks must really have been in a hurry to get out their Christmas cards.
I threw the envelope in my bag and headed into my apartment. My bag being something of a black hole, I didn't see or think about it again for several days. When the weekend arrived, and I began pulling apart all of the items I'd thrown in there during the week, I once again peered at the envelope. Finally curious enough to actually open it, I found one of those photo-cards with holiday greetings from a family that appeared to be made up of a couple and their young daughter. Cute. But I still didn't know who these people were. Now, the older I get, the worse my memory is getting, and I'm lucky I can remember where to go home each day. The name was almost mine. The apartment number was only one digit off. And it was in my mailbox. Was it possible that this card wasn't meant for me?
Because anything worth knowing can be found on Google, I decided to Google the name as written on the envelope, along with "Gainesville, Florida," and see if I could find any evidence that someone by that exact name did exist. And, indeed, they did. It seemed that there was a couple with that last name here in Gainesville, although every reference to an address that turned up was on the other side of town. Still, it was awfully coincidental. Even more interesting, the man was a customer service manager with Publix, which made me laugh, since we'd been having great discussion about having someone representing Publix's excellent customer service philosophy speak at our upcoming Staff Development Day. Maybe this was a sign.
I marveled at the way all of this came together and considered the evidence. Let me get this straight. Someone with a name just a few letters off of my extremely usual moniker lived in the apartment across the breezeway from mine. In the city in Florida to which I moved only nine months ago. And knows people in the small New Jersey town in which I was born. Does exactly the job that my co-workers were saying needs to be covered at a work function. It couldn't be more obvious that I needed to meet these people. Now, I quite value my alone time and am careful about when I choose to increase the circle of people around me. Plus, I don't usually know my neighbors. Not that I don't want to, really, but then they want to start borrowing a cup of sugar and eggs, and, well...I don't cook.
But I was beginning to feel the need to make an exception. I just don't come across people with a similar name to mine very often, and certainly not one with connections to to my hometown (even if I did only live there for the first six months of my life). I wanted to know these people. In fact, I was sort of excited about meeting my neighbors. Maybe they even knew people that my family knew. Their friends on the Christmas card looked nice enough, anyway.
And then I remembered. Just a couple of weeks ago, I'd noticed that the apartment complex management was updating that apartment. The door stood wide open for two days while they hauled in the new kitchen cabinets and sink from the front lawn (thank goodness, as I was really cranky about the kitchen sink laying out on the grass like this was a junk yard). Evidently, the last residents had moved out, and they were updating before new people moved in. I wouldn't know, what with never really meeting the previous residents and all. But it seemed a reasonable assessment. At the time, I only noticed this in relation to the fact that I was still living in an apartment needing upgrading while the one across the breezeway was getting a face life. I could leave for two days, if that's all it took. But now, I felt disappointed, realizing that my chance to know the people who could be distant cousins had passed. There would be no exclamations of delight over how close our name were. No "do you know...'s?" over people in New Jersey that we might have in common (okay, since I lived there as a baby and haven't been back in more years than I like to count, this was unlikely, but one can hope). No offers to come speak at my library's training day. For free. Despondent, I set the envelope back down. So much for a reunion.
I am amazed at how many connections we have to one another that we don't even know about. My dad's cousin married a boy who used to play with my mom when they were kids. A friend has been babysitting for the daughter of one of my favorite authors. The person running the volunteer program with which I occasionally help out used to run a
similar program back in Raleigh and knew a good friend of mine. Ferris Bueller's sister Jeannie ran into people all over town who, it turned out, knew her brother and were greatly impacted by his supposed illness. You never know when an unexpected network gets a little bigger. Or, could get a little bigger if people just wouldn't move before you go introduce yourself. As Ferris said, life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.
Sunday, December 1, 2013
The Never List by Koethi Zan
This book scared me straight out of my pants! Fair warning, it turned out to be something of a difficult read, not because it was terribly graphic, but because the author was so good at describing just enough for your imagination to take over and create some very dark places. The first half or so of the book is suspenseful, building relationships and understanding of the Sarah and the other victims. But as the Sarah starts to put the pieces together, surprises fall one right after the other…into a black hole that will make the calmest of readers feel chills.
My one small issue is that, despite the fact that Sarah and Jennifer had always been overly cautious, even creating a “never list” of things they would never do to ensure they stayed safe, Sarah continued to put herself in dangerous situations. I’m not sure someone who’d been through what she had would do that, but then, who knows what anyone would do after having been abducted and tortured.
The Never List is a creepy thriller that will have readers reading all night…and wishing there was daylight.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)