It was so gusty that the umbrella was hoisted out of our brand new deck set and blew back for a return engagement, piercing the brand-new, tempered glass table, shooting several thousand, glittery glass hunks all over the damn place.
I figured one of two things would happen with all the little pieces:
I would scoop them up
They would fall through the slats of the deck, never to be heard from again
I was wrong.
A couple hundred of them have firmly wedged themselves right between the slats of the deck. Oh, I banged at them with all manner of chop stick and kitchen implement. Rather then coming free, they have gotten even more entrenched.
I figure I had two options:
Go on a chopstick-wielding rampage, losing my fragile grip on sanity in the process (Bad Choice)
Channel my inner Dr. Fad and pretend it’s purposeful (Better Choice)
So, I’ve just decided to refer to them as “Deck Diamonds.”
A few weeks ago, I joined my town’s newly reinstated Friends of the (Name of Town) Library club.
By “joined” I mean, attended a meeting to see what it was all about and, due to frightfully low turnout, was immediately drafted to help with all nature of activities. However, it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. These ladies (yes, no men yet – any takers?) are highly organized, very committed and pretty darn good company.
This weekend kicks off used book sale season, where we make an appearance at the local church flea market to be followed by a bunch of other, similar engagements.
So, I figure I would give you a behind-the-scenes look at a Friends of the Library book sale prep session…
5:27 p.m. – I arrive first on the scene for the night shift. Very loyal team member and daughter have been there all day doing first round of sorting, finding books that are guaranteed to sell the fastest. (In case you’re curious: titles by James Patterson, Nora Roberts, Stephen King, Johanna Lindsay; cookbooks; and anything about the Kennedy family.)
6:01 p.m. – Two teen library workers come in to help with sorting. Gawky girl teen (who I guarantee within 3 years will bloom into a total bombshell) jokingly orders boy teen around. Totally obvious that girl teen has devastating crush on boy teen. Boy teen is completely oblivious. Considering channeling my inner Yente and making a match.
6:07 p.m. – My two loyal library compadres arrive. I eagerly volunteer to do romance and biographies as they’re the easiest to sort. Biographies: Picture of (usually) famous person (often dead) on spine. Romance: Picture of a flower, Fabio or some heaving bosoms on spine.
6:35 p.m. – The first serious round of sneezing occurs. Books = hella dusty.
6:47 p.m. – The teenagers emerge from the stacks. He’s still ignoring her. Damn, boy! Look past the glasses. That girl is going to be Claudia farookin’ Schiffer. Trust me.
7:15 p.m. – Crap! Why didn’t I think to bring snacks!
8:03 p.m. – Sorted through several thousand books and put them neatly into box tops. Get the special privilege of using those neat stickers only the librarians get to use. Smile smugly to self as I slap on “Sci-Fantasy” label thinking, “Oh yeah. Check me out. I’m the boss. How do you know? I’ve got the stickers to prove it, baby!”
8:17 p.m. – Begin to gossip about potential purchases, so we don’t have a book snatchin' catfight on our hands. Thankfully no overlap. (Heh. I wasn’t worried. For a twenty five cent Alison Weir book, I could totally throw down. Oh yeah, library ladies, you want some uh this?!?)
8:23 p.m. – While compadres are labeling the fiction hard covers, I haul approximately fifty crates of books from one end of the room to the other, as some persnickety art group is using the room the next day, and needs it in perfect order.
8:24 p.m. – Starting to dislike those "art people."
8:37 p.m. – As back begins to ache, now really, really hating the evil "art people." (Smile to self as I think of Bou’s bus post. Muh-ha-ha-ha-ha!)
8:42 p.m. – Find a book on quotations for curmudgeons. Irrationally think book donor is evil because I have no bleeping’ category for quote books. Try to slip it in the “Free” bin and hope no one notices.
8:47 p.m. – Mr. Surly makes a surprise appearance. I immediately beg him to lift heavy things. We tired ladies swoon. Images of Fabio come to mind.
9:05 p.m. – We lug the last of the boxes to the corner of the room and cover them neatly with Christmas-themed tablecloths.
9:07 p.m. – Head home, tired and sweaty and immediately throw back some Advil. Figuring out what time I have to get up on Saturday a.m. to make it to the library at 7 a.m. sharp (Boing!), carrying donuts and a Box O’ Joe.
It’s just now that I find out a very dear publication has gone down the tubes.
Budget Living officially closed its doors on Valentine’s Day, 2006. No more issues. Ever.
Guess this explains why the winter and spring issues never made their way to my mailbox.
According to Budget Living’s web site, my name is currently being provided (sold?) to Hearst, so that I can get another stupid magazine to fulfill my subscription. I simply can’t wait until my complimentary issue of Shop, Etc. comes in the mail! (/sarcasm)
I guess a magazine that encouraged people to spend smart, make neat DIY projects, host backyard parties and find oh-so-stylish bargains couldn’t be long for this earth.
At the time, Sarah and I lived together in the sorority house and it was thesis time. To get the creative juices flowing (and tune out the ever-present sounds of fun everyone else was having who was not writing a damn thesis), I would hook my feet on a rail under the desk and lean my chair back, so that my thighs touched against the under side of the front of the desk and supported my weight. That way, I could stare at the ceiling and not the mini-fridge filled with icy cold brew, or the phone, or the 500 stars that needed to be spray painted for rush....You get the gist.
After a couple weeks of that, the top of my legs started turning a dark shade of purple. I mean, a really dark shade of purple. Like I dumped a can of paint on myself. In fact, the rest of me wasn’t much better. It seemed any little bump and bruise I got quickly ballooned into a huge, greenish-purple patch.
Oh, and I did I mention I’m really clumsy?
Upside? Skinny girl with finished thesis!
Downside? Looked like I was always on the losing end of a catfight.
So, that was the end of that.
Most of the time, I do okay with moderation. However, lately I’ve too often heeded the call of the brownie.
So, I’m going to lay off all things yummy (e.g. booze, caffiene, chocolate, white flour) for a few weeks to give myself a bit of a jump start.
For a tenth of a second I even considered acupuncture or something involving colonics. But then I remembered that I’m not crazy.