Refreshed and Recharged

I took a little break and went to Virgina Beach a few weeks ago to hang out with the sisters. While I was there, I walked an 8k. We were in corral 6, it took us 20 minutes to get up to the start line and when we were there, the finishers were coming around the corner in the home stretch…What? Are you kidding?

I’ve done quite a few charity races but this was my first 20,000 or more participants  and it was a sight to behold. They are all fun, but this just had a different energy to it.

Hundreds of volunteers, hundreds of people clapping and yelling encouragement along the way and all for good causes. The sisters and I set our sites on different targets ahead to pass. Chic in Tutu?…Check! Chic with Pippi Longstocking hair?…Check! Man with gigantic calf muscles? …Check! When I was targeting the 10-year-old in shape up sketchers, the sisters told me to back off…but then the 10-year-old stopped to pick up a quarter and we passed her…CHECK!

I’m not a big fan of the walkers that run through the chute…make up your mind. Walk/Run along the way but not at the very end. Cheaters.

Bottom line. Register for one of these races! They are fun. You don’t have to be a stellar athlete, a major runner, or even own dry weave. Anyone can do it. The more you do it, the better you feel. Not just for your health, but for your community.

Set your targets, pass them up and prevail! Get your PIPPY on and get out there and make it happen

It is decidedly so…

I have a magic eight ball in my office. I think it was mine when I was little so the triangle no longer floats around in suspension…it kinda gloops and sticks and well, to be honest..it’s pretty thick in there through that little window.

I don’t know exactly what happened along the way but I used to rely on my magic eight ball for everything. Should I pick David Bryant or Kenny Henderson to “go with” in 4th grade? Was the song I requested going to be on the radio? Will I earn enough money to buy that 10 speed Schwinn Calliente Cinnamon colored bike?

Having the magic eight ball in my office is comforting. Even if that triangle doesn’t work like it used to, heck..I don’t even work like I used to in some places. I like to look at it and believe it or not, lots of people pick it up, shake it, try to see through the murk, but they hold on to it like it’s some kind of comfort. Some kind of gypsy fortune-teller to their destiny.

I had a dad in with his little boy the other day, while his dad filled out the application and told me his story, his 7-year-old son and I played with my rock em sock em robots. It was another case of no work, no rent, no food, community service. I’ve heard it all and it’s heart breaking. I’m not becoming numb to it, but I’m becoming tired of it. Come on…! Where’s the light at the end of the tunnel?

The little boy brought over the magic eight ball and wanted to know how it worked and what it did. I told him it told the future. He didn’t understand. I don’t blame him. I’m sure he was afraid of what the future may hold for him. I said let’s ask it something easy, like what you’re going to have for lunch. He had no idea. I asked “Is Chris going to have a peanut butter sand which?”  Chris then informed me he didn’t like peanut butter. I asked, “Is Chris going to have a bologna sand which?” Chris shook his head to that one too…hmmm…”well Chris, what do you like for lunch?” Chris quietly told me mac and cheese. “OK…is Chris going to have Mac and Cheese for lunch?” I shook it, tilted it my way and said …WOW…

DECIDEDLY SO… he was thrilled and looked over at his dad who was just smiling but seemed sad himself.

I stood up and went over to my food box and pulled out 10 boxes of mac and cheese, put them in a bag and said “ENJOY!”

Magic Eight Balls can be right.

Just Joshin’

I called my boss from my office today and told her that I’m resigning. There was silence…and then I couldn’t torture her past that first 15 seconds so I said “April Fools!”. A volunteer in my office was with me and we giggled and high fived and that was it.

The sad thing is the fact that my resigning is actually believable. Libraries are on shaky ground. I’ve written posts on essential and non essential employees. That’s what makes this “joke” so good. It’s believable. But I plan on being here a while. I might not have to be “blasted” grenade style out of my office, but on the whole, I’m happy and satisfied. Grass is not always greener.

I’m good at what I do. I like what I do. I’m allowed to be creative and throw out ideas to anyone who will listen. I’m feeling more and more valued and appreciated. I do good for my community and myself.

Are options out there for me? Sure. Are people recruiting me? No doubt. I like keeping my options open, and that’s not being foolish..in April…or any month!

Blind Faith…

I was doing a volunteer orientation the other day. We are all giggling and laughing and getting to know each other and it was fun. Before the tour, I began to take the volunteers’ photos for their name badges. Volunteers love their name badges. It’s their official step into our world. Don that badge and you’re all business.

I lined them up mug shot style and snapped away with my cell phone. A couple were blurry and we had to redo a few. I’ve only had 2 in the past 4 years not want their photo taken. Neither fell into the usual categories of those that did not want their photos taken. Not Amish, Not Vampire, Not without a soul I even point-blank asked if they were in the Witness Protection Program and they said no to all of the above. They just wanted their name on their badge. Fair enough. No Problem.

When I got to Darla, I snapped and it was a smidge blurry but nothing that would be noticeable. I had her look at it to agree and she said she couldn’t see it and she was fine with whatever I thought. I thought it was fine so I moved on to the next gal.

When I had finished, I told them they could leave their belongings and I’d lock up the room and we’d all come back to do our training schedules. It was close quarters all getting out of the door and I was busy locking it when I turned and felt a “whop” on my lower calf. I turned back around and realized that it was from Darla. It was her cane. She was blind.

My first thought was to apologize to her in hopes I didn’t make her feel uncomfortable in asking if she approved of her badge photo-which I did immediately. No big deal she said. My second thought, which I kept to myself was…how can a blind person volunteer in the library?

At the end of the orientation, I went up to her and asked her what she felt she could do for us and what she wanted to get out of volunteering with us. She wanted to promote library service for the blind or visually impaired. Books on Tapes, Books on CD, Talking Books, directional information, books clubs. She just wants to help. She wants to be out in the community doing something. She wants to be valued.

Mark Twain said “Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see”.

I see her doing some good for us. I have faith in her.

 

Neti pots and other goo…

I can’t wait when Deb comes in to volunteer. She’s my “Vincent Price” of volunteers. We can sit for hours talking about goo, gunk, body parts and other odd human body anomalies. There was a book that came through to the Friends of the Library book shop about surgery that we could barely put down.

Live photos of organs, the brain, liver, spine. It was utterly, gory-ily, amazing. When Deb had a ganglion cyst removed, she asked to have it saved so she could see it. We talked in length about Neti Pots, and encouraged those around us in the shop to use one, no details were spared on what a Neti Pot is or what the end result may entrail….I mean entail.

The funny thing about Deb is that she is the most adorable, tiny, fashionable, smart and fun loving person you’d ever imagine; not to mention extremely intelligent and patient. But, at the first mention of ingrown toenail or boil and hive and she’s all over it. Like a ranting, crazed lunatic, she’ll go on about puss and infection as if it was no more than a “how do you do?”.

We were in mixed company the other day (meaning the horrific and the squeamish) and had to curb our discussion on the finer points of  the “neti pot”. The funny thing was that before we talked about the goo and guts of the remnants of the neti, we may actually have sold someone on buying and using one.

…..it was all for good, we just want to “help”

Tribute to Kitten

I watched “Butterfield 8″ in honor of Elizabeth. How can you not adore her in that movie? Brushing her teeth in whiskey, “No Sale” in red lipstick on the mirror, putting that so second rate mink back in the closet and taking the other.

Even when I was 8 years old I always wanted to tell a cabbie that I’d “double his tip for a cigarette…”.

Barbara Walters asked her once what she’d like inscribed on her tombstone and she said  “Here lies Liz. She lived. Wait, no….Here lies Elizabeth. She hated being called Liz. But she lived.”

She surely did….

more good kids being “bad”

What do kids do at a suburban library…? They drink monster drinks on the sly. There….its out… I told their secret. They come to the library after school, run over to the nearest CVS and buy monster drinks. And gulp them.

It’s a weird phenom. They aren’t allowed to have them at home so they sneak them. I used to sneak far worse back in the ’80′s. I must give off that cool old chic vibe because they like to come in and hang out and gulp their drinks, swish it around their mouths and let out an “ahhhh” after they swallow.

For the most part, it’s not like they are in the public areas downing their monsters. If they aren’t in my office, they are hiding out, almost ashamed that they are drinking one, but thrilled that they are getting away with it. And they are true monster drinks, I’ve witnessed it from lid cracking open to can crushing end. No tipping the flask, nothing added to them, just a true monster drink.

Most of these kids are ADHD, and they tell me so. I had a neighbor kid once who’s mom never gave him anything sweet for fear that he’d bounce off the walls. Then one day she found him on the kitchen floor, legs straddled around a 5lb sack of sugar eating fistfuls with both hands. In pure desperation, she came over and asked me what she should do…I said, for crying out loud…give the kid something sweet once in a while!

I’ve never had one, so I don’t know what the fascination is, they pooh pooh coffee so maybe it’s a generation thing. Oh well…I’ll continue to keep their secrets. Heck, they’ve signed the waiver and if it helps them be better volunteers and more productive…I’m all for it.

taking the ME out of America

I’m not usually at a loss for words when it comes to my meetings with volunteers. Back in the day,  instead of being speechless at inane comments, I would debate, attack or work myself up into a lather, holding strong to my convictions and opinions, but as of late, I’ve just sat back and listened, in awe of what’s spewing out of people’s mouths. I must be a grown up now, listening more than ever, trying to understand and comprehend what’s making people tick…either that or I’ve just become so entertained, I don’t want to interrupt!

Recently, I had someone come in to my office looking for resume help. I provide resources for job training and job searching, but I’m not going to do it for them. By refusing that, I started off very poorly with this individual. It didn’t get any better considering that she was a walk in, didn’t have an appointment and I was interrupted 2 or 3 times by others who did schedule time with me as she sat in my office. Things got progressively worse as she continued to tell me that she wants to work for the new casket making company coming to town where starting wages are $26 per hour, but she wasn’t sure how she would be able to work with “dead people”.

hmmm….I tried to explain that she would be building the caskets. The dead people would probably come later, after the caskets were built. She went on to tell me that since she was a minority, a woman, had a medical condition, and a 6th toe, she should be hired by them.

I’ve been through a few interviews of my own, and I’ve never been asked if I had a 6th toe. I’m not sure that’s even on the legal list of questions. Which made me wonder about the resume…where would you put 6th toe? Accomplishments? Achievements? Some of the jobs I interviewed for I never got…so it now makes me wonder if it was because I only had 5 toes each foot. How disappointing that I never had the nerve to ask or even mention if there was a 6th toe requirement.

The sense of entitlement was strong in my office that day, my friends. I sat entertained by such odd conversation, but a big part of me wanted her to pick up that 6th toe and leave. In the end, she did, with a calendar of our free classes to help her with making her own resume.

left handed people are in their right mind

How ’bout that? A new study came out that Parrots tend to be “left handed”…or “left clawed” to be more accurate.

My office mate is left-handed, as a matter of fact, at one time in the hey day of our department,  4 out of 5 of my department colleagues were left  handed, I was the lone righty.

They seemed to want to make a big deal about this Parrot study. Before I get in to that, let’s take a look into the world of left handedness…

• 10% of the population is left handed
• There is a $1,000 scholarship offered by Juniata College in Huntington, Pennsylvania for left handers
• Left Handed Knitting is one of the hottest searches on google
• E-bay has the best selection of left handed items in one area
• You can enable the Lefty Switch, by going to controller options or controller settings on Guitar Hero
• Einstein was left handed
• Bambino, Lefty, Southpaw are all nicknames for left handed people

So..let’s get back to the parrot. The study went on and on about how parrots that were left clawed were incredibly verbal and creative. They used their left claws to eat fruit, scratch, preen and claw at others.

There was lots of debate and discussion when this came out. Because the birds weren’t really “left-clawed” dominate. They used their stronger claw, their “right claw” to hold on to dear life to the branch they were on. You know, if I was dangling from a tree, I’d use my right hand, since I’m right handed, and grab my banana or whatever with my left. It makes sense…

The lesson learned…be careful when you “read” the latest studies, right brain or left brained, one can always interpret them as they wish.

Fox in Socks…

“Fox in Socks” is the worst story ever written.  The other night, I met with a group of daisy girl scouts and we talked about the importance of volunteering, I gave them little junior volunteer badges, had them shelve board books, we took a tour through circulation, I had them work the conveyor belts, we went downstairs into our secret lower level we have for expansion and back up to our meeting room.

20 minutes left…ugh! The troop leader engaged them in conversations about what their favorite books were. So many great books and stories that I’ve never heard of…something about your momma being a llama…a chic named Junie B. Jones, something about cowboys….and my favorite Amelia Bedelia…

I snuck out and asked the librarians what would be a good book to read to the girls to kill some times…they had a Dr. Seuss display so I grabbed 2 books. Wocket in my Pocket and Fox in Socks. Melissa said, Fox in Socks…for sure…!

Ok…I trusted her, I figured she knew what was up…I grabbed it and ran in to the program room. Little did I know that Melissa must have hated my guts. Who would recommend that book to read to 15 daisies if they didn’t like you…

My mouth grew numb, my brain hurt, my eyes began to twitch….

That book was horrible, sir

Deplorable, sir

despicable and diabolical, sir

…and so was Melissa for suggesting it and then grinning when I came out all in a fluster, hair straggly and eye’s bugged out. She’s on my list…she better beware, sir…