Voice of Reason

Now that I think of it, she does have very nice nails

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 19:17:00 +0000

Sunday morning I was in a rush to finish getting ready. I applied eye-liner and was confused to see that at the end of it I did NOT look sexy, but rather hung-over and possibly infectious. Turned out I was using the identically-packaged Mary Kay lipliner by mistake. Woops.

Only, as I was soon to learn, it could have been much worse. The woman who got up to teach the Relief Society lesson prefaced her talk with a plea for everyone to please make sure they weren't letting their (metaphorical) plates get too full, which could lead to disorganization and rushing and mistakes. Of which she proceeded to give a personal example.

She held up two small, nearly identical dropper-type bottles. The only difference was that one was slightly bigger than the other, and the caps were two different shades of green. As she held them up, she said, "Okay. This is a bottle of eye drops. And this . . . is nail glue."

I think you may know where I'm going with this.

While they were out of town last week, her husband asked her to grab the eye drops. She was in a hurry and got them from her bag, thinking, "That's a good idea, I could use some drops myself," and quickly squeezed a few drops into her eye.

Of course, she'd grabbed the nail glue. And yes, please take whatever time you need to grimace your own eyes shut at such a horrifying prospect. Fifteen minutes later she was in the ER waiting for a doctor to dig the dried glue out of her eyeballs and she was incredibly lucky not to have permanent damage.

So let's everybody take a moment to slow down, smell the flowers, and read the labels. The world will be a better place for it, I'm sure.

A few letters I've been meaning to post

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 16:53:00 +0000

Dear ClearPlay,

Our subscription to your service expired three months ago. Since that time, you have not created any new filters that would tempt us to come back. Instead of providing cleaner versions of the movies we want to see (read: the R and PG-13 ones), you have made the somewhat inexplicable choice to focus all your efforts on removing smut, profanity, and violence from PG and G-rated movies such as Ice Age: The Meltdown and Jonas Brothers: The 3D Concert Experience.

We no longer love you, and we want to find the people who want their G-rated movies edited and go hit them with bricks.

ps. Your website is down. Way to suck.

Dear library mommies,

When I tell you that a certain program/activity is meant for children of elementary-school age, I actually mean that. Please do not avoid eye contact with me while dragging in your toddlers, believing that they either have the motor skills of an 8-year-old or that you will just complete the activity FOR them. Because you're taking up all the seats meant for the actual real kids for whom this activity was intended. Way to go, there.

Dear American Educational Services (aka, people who own my student loan)

I am sorry that you chose to hire not one, but at least two technical customer service representatives who believe that www.mint.com is a web browser. And that when I emailed you about the additional security measures that were preventing Mint.com's financial software from being able to access my student loan information, your response was that I should try using Internet Explorer or Netscape.

Thanks for that. You are idiots. Also? Netscape? Seriously? Is it 1997 again and I just didn't notice?

Dear Mint.com,

I love you and want to have your babies, which I will even bear naturally in a birthing pool because that is just how much I love you.

Just a thought

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 16:46:00 +0000

Maybe this is just me being a cranky pants, but is anyone else tired of all the Michael Jackson coverage? Especially since there are other things going on in the world that actually, well, matter? (This is not to say that Michael Jackson's death does not matter to the people who were close to him, because of course it does, but it doesn't actually affect the rest of us in any tangible way.)

Here's my beef: To me, this whole media frenzy is not even about him. It's actually about guilt. You heard me. Now that Michael Jackson is suddenly dead, everyone wants to talk about him and play his songs and love him and make a huge stinking deal about the whole thing. Three weeks ago, no one was talking about Michael Jackson except to wonder if his tour was going to be a train wreck or not.

But now, NOW, it's a different story. So even though there are actual, ongoing things happening in the world that could use our attention (hello, Iran), all anybody wants to do is make themselves feel better about the part where they called him Wacko Jacko and thought he was a child molester for the last however many years. I can't blame the media for this, because they are a business and they run the stories that viewers will tune in for. And clearly, viewers seem to have an infinite capacity right now for Michael Jackson.

When someone's dead, though, it's kind of late for the love-fest. Heaven knows it's too late to do the recipient any good. Maybe guilt can occasionally be a useful feeling. Instead of trying to absolve ourselves of it with these huge misuses of our collective energy and attention for someone who is dead and can't actually benefit from them, maybe we can just say to ourselves, "Huh. Now that this person is gone, I find myself remembering all of the good associations and memories, rather than the bad. I will use this feeling to remind myself to show more appreciation, kindness, and understanding for the people who are still in my life."

Is it just me who's been thinking this?

4th of July HL/LL

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 04:54:00 +0000

Hope everyone's Independence Days were merry and bright.

Here were my highlights:

Watched Season 1 of 30 Rock on DVD. Man that's a funny show.

Went to a drive-in movie on Friday night. It doesn't get more American that that, I tell you. Considered finding a set of swings to go sing sad songs on ("Stranded at the drive-in . . . ") but instead just ate my Little Ceasar's pizza and Oreos while watching the movies.

Listened to NPR's Reading of the Declaration of Independence. Got teary-eyed.

Made an amazing corn/black bean/avocado/tomato/cilantro/garlic/lime salsa for the Family 4th of July Dinner in Provo

The Family 4oJD menu: Hot dogs, cheeseburgers with bacon & avocado, corn on the cob, salsa & chips, watermelon, cherries, lemonade, Canadian chocolate, and ice cream cones.

GH and I brought fireworks to light for the kiddies, including the piece de resistance--a firework that shot off 7 mortars 30 feet into the air, each of which released 5 parachuting figures from the sky. Blew. Their. Minds. Also? Beat that, all other aunties and uncles.

At church on Sunday there were two baby blessings, which meant that all the testimonies afterward were by members of said babies' families and were more babymonies than my-country-is-the-only-true-country-unlike-some-other-sucky-countries-I-will-now-mention-and-it's-also-Jesus'-favorite-so-neener-monies. Sorry, Mormon Child Bride.

I must also, however, include the lowlights:

The drive-in double-feature consisted of Year One and Land of the Lost. Both were lame, although Land of the Lost had some scatological humor that amused me greatly. Plus it was after midnight by that point, which may have had something to do with it.

After spending loads of time and love and fresh organic ingredients on it, I left the black bean salsa in my apartment. Because I am awesome. Grabbed more ingredients at the store so that Jen, Coolboy, & I could whip up another one superfast. (After I got done writhing around on the ground about how stupid I was to have forgotten the stupid thing.)

The Stadium of Fire fireworks sucked hard. GH timed it and they only lasted about 8 minutes. He now gets to feel smug and validated about L****'s claim to have the Best Firework Show in Utah. Uuugh. L**** is always claiming crap against Utah County that isn't true. (See the completely one-sided Cache vs Utah County feud that Utah Co isn't even aware of because that's how NOT rivals they are. )

Here's hoping everyone else had nice long weekends as well. And now it's back to the regular programming called Working with the Public (ie, the people who think that the words of "the library is now closed" is actually their cue to go lock themselves in the bathroom for the next 10 minutes. Because why go home and use your own bathroom when there's a dirty, smelly, disgusting public one right there? Of course, that's me assuming they're actually using the bathroom as intended. They're probably just stuffing books and DVDs into their clothing.)

I declare I don't know what the young men are about nowadays

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 17:18:00 +0000

Last night GH had his interview with a local television station. Thanks to your prayers/vibes/visualizations, it seemed to go well. Because there were so many applicants, they're doing a round of phone interviews first. Next week we should hear if there will be an in-person interview.

At some point during the conversation GH mentioned something he'd seen on the station's website. The interviewer was surprised and said, "You know, you are the first person I've talked to who has gone to our website. I'm going to make a note of that."

If that's the case, then the thank-you note GH put in the mail this morning should really blow his mind.

But seriously? None of the other applicants went on the website? Or, if they did, they didn't make sure to work that into the conversation somehow? I knew resumes were taking a hit, so I guess it makes sense that interview preparation has gone downhill as well. I mean, yay for other people's laziness making GH look even better by comparison, but it's still kind of sad, especially when so many people really, really need a job, are qualified for said job, but just aren't giving strong interviews.

And now I'm starting to think of all the really bad interviews I've been a part of. Thankfully, I was usually on the hiring and end, not on the "spectacularly blowing an interview" end. (Please not that I said usually, not always.) Methinks there should be a post about this . . .

They say clothes don't make the man

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 21:51:00 +0000

And they would be right.

However.

They still kinda do. Think of that scene in Pride and Prejudice where Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Hurst walk home across the fields after a day of shooting innocent birds that they probably won't even eat. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley stride along in full-length duster coats, which drape manfully out behind them. This is how you know they are cool. Mr. Hurst lacks the long coat, which is how you know he is dumpy and lame and drinks himself into a red-nosed stupor every night.

Ever since I have known him, GH has been strictly a t-shirt & hoodies kind of guy. When the mood strikes he'll don a polo. This works for him, and, as he pointed out to me one day, his t-shirts get more remarks and compliments when we're out in public than mine do. I maintain that it's not my fault there are a lot of geeks out there.

For a few months now I've been wanting to get him into a nice button-up cotton shirt. You know, the kind without a tie where you roll the sleeves up a bit and immediately look about 3 times hotter. (Amyjane and I used to refer to this phenomenon as Post-Church Dress Shirt. And believe me, gentlemen, there's power there.)

Over the weekend we stopped in Kohls to grab (and pay for) a new pair of Sunday pants for GH. On the way out, I spied some nice striped shirts on a clearance rack for 70% off and decided that today was the day. I grabbed one, took it up front, and bulldozed GH into taking it. To humor me, he wore it the next day for his mother's birthday dinner.

I pretty much could not take my eyes (or, fine, hands) off him for the rest of the night, he looked so good.

Check it out:

I know, right???

GH may not realize it yet, but that shirt is going to be getting a whole lot of brothers and sisters.

Update: I forgot to mention this before, but GH has a job interview today for a really cool job. So please, please cross fingers, say prayers, send good vibes, inform the universe, visualize success, etc. Thank you!

Why I haven't blogged yet this week

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 15:37:00 +0000

a. I am newly pregnant with triplets and have decided to start the bed rest early.
b. I got mauled by a bear in the Samurai Sushi parking lot on Girl's Day and have been in the hospital.
c. I foolishly agreed to take on a freelance editing project (like a fool) and so am spending every spare minute working on it.

Which do you think it is?

But yes, I made it home from Alaska safely, if not sanely. I think I'm getting too old for this redeye [stuff]. I was a complete zombie by the time I made it home, approximately 102 hours after I left my parents' house. But I guess I did have it easier than my b-in-law, who is driving a car down from Alaska this very minute through bear-infested lands. Please cross fingers that he doesn't get eaten.

Why hello, pretty Alaska

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 06:51:00 +0000

Sigh. Vacations are so wonderful. Especially when you get to spend them at my parents' house. Have gained 8 pounds from things like chocolate chip cheesecake, brownies, movie popcorn, seafoods dipped in butter, seafoods fried in batter, Costco's chocolate-covered raisins, biscuits & gravy, movie theatre popcorn, ice cream cones, blueberry-macadamia-nut pancakes and I don't even know what else.

A real post is coming but I still have a day of vacation left. Tomorrow is Girls Day, wherein my mom and I will do fabulous things like visit yarn stores and eat sushi and drink estrogen shakes. We had to take GH to the airport this morning so he will miss out on Girls Day (sad).

Here are a few pics to tide you over--more to come!

(And yes, it's just windy in that last picture. I do not wear my hair that big usually.)

Flying to Alaska tonight!

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 21:01:00 +0000

Can. Not. Wait.

The only stinky thing is that we don't fly out of SLC until 9pm, arriving in Anchorage at 2:30am. (So, you know, 4:30am UT time. Which will be a normal Friday night for GH but not so much for me.) Also? If the TSA people try to take my knitting needles, you watch this space, because there will surely be a blog post on the way entitled "That one time I froke completely out at the airport and got arrested and would totally do it again because there was a principle involved."

My poor parents have to drive out to the airport to pick us up. But it's always such a great moment, though, coming down the escalator to see them standing at the bottom next to the huge stuffed polar bear that greets visitors. (Welcome to Alaska. Try not to get eaten.)

Our itinerary includes the following delights:

Much sleeping in

Much knitting

No working

Steak Night

Seafood Feast Night, wherein there will be lobster and king crab legs, courtesy of my awesome dad and the good people at Costco

Seward Day, including an afternoon wildlife & glacier cruise in Resurrection Bay and dinner at Ray's

Temple night at the Anchorage Temple

Walks along the bike path with Gabby the Sheltie, whom my mother is able to manage NOT to bring into the library with her.

In case I'm too busy sleeping and stuffing myself with shellfish to blog right away, I've included some previous Alaskan adventures of mine here:

Why I'm not a true Alaskan

Only in Alaska

July 2005 visit

That time when I lived there in September 2006

And still in October 2006

And then in November 2006 it started looking like this and I decided I was done.

July 2008 visit

(cruise image found here)

I love me some Friday

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 17:24:00 +0000

Days like Wednesday make me think I should get a new job. Or just leave the world of work entirely.

I don't know if it's the rainy weather, the bad economy, or what, but we were swamped all day long. Children ran and screamed everywhere. The H-B possibly made another appearance, based on the description the PTSDed shelver gave me of the destruction. A toddler slipped out the doors by himself in the melee and they shut behind him (not ON him, mercifully) and he started toddling toward the street before someone saw him and alerted me. Homeless men wandered in and out. People asked me impossible questions like, "I'm looking for that movie that was set during World War II." A woman turned up with a Sheltie and tried to say she was training her to be a service dog. Which, sure, if "training" consists of letting a dog jump up on you repeatedly while you implore her to sit. (On the plus side, am now well versed in the state code regarding service & companion dogs. Quiz me.) I finally escaped and drove home only to find that my shoulders were hiked up around my ears. I had to go set cases of food storage on them to get them to go down again. Then I went to the temple, which was v. soothing.

But then days like yesterday remind me how much I actually enjoy being a librarian. All day long I was the happiness fairy, making everyone's wildest library dreams come true. I found the books and DVDs that appeared to be missing, I signed people up for library cards, I blew adults, teens, and children alike away with the glory that is the summer reading program. I weeded out a few overpacked shelves, winning the love of the beleagured shelvers. I taught teens how to use the online catalog to reserve their books and I introduced a brother and sister to the world of graphic novels. A woman walk up to the desk with her children and said, "Hi, we were hoping you would be here today!"

And then I got to go eat raclette and discuss nursing pads with my dinner group. How could you NOT love a day like that?

(image from Wikipedia's Raclette page)

Because step one is making the universe aware of your desires

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Tue, 09 Jun 2009 21:29:00 +0000

And in this case Universe = Internet.

GH is looking for a new job. They say that when you are on the job hunt you are supposed to tell everyone you know, since 80% of the jobs that get filled do so through networking and referrals rather than the pedestrian old "send in your application" routine. So I am telling everyone and trusting that someone out there is going to help us come across the perfect thing. Here are a few reasons why a new job would be nice:

1. There is nowhere to move up to and no way to advance salary-wise in GH's current job, where he writes & produces a morning news show.

2. He works the graveyard shift, which means we do not sleep together at night and on the one night a week when we DO sleep together it does not go smoothly on account of we are both used to taking up a whole bed. Injuries and accusations ensue.

3. His current employer keeps doing layoffs and stuff, and we think it would be better to just jump ship while we can.

4. A new job is my only chance to be a Stay At Home Mommy Blogger. And come on. Aren't you just dying to hear me talk (more) about poop?

So. Now that you're motivated, lets talk job specs. I think the job GH is really holding out for would be Protege to Joss Whedon, but he's willing to settle. His degree is in Broadcast Journalism and for the last few years he has been working in the news (which has been a good experience builder but is really not a passion of his). He's looking for pretty much anything in the Media/Entertainment/TV/Film industry. He's also up for PR or other writing jobs. Right now we're looking primarily in UT, but a move is not outside the realm of possibility if it's for a good job.

So if anyone knows of or hears of anything at all remotely related (or hey, even non-related if it's a good job with benefits), can you please drop me a line? I have not decided yet what the reward will be for the person who provides the job-lead-that-leads-to-job, but I can promise you: it will be awesome.

Because letter writing is an endangered art

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Mon, 08 Jun 2009 17:45:00 +0000

Dear mother who allowed her small child to sweep an entire shelf of juvenile non-fiction books and, later, about 50 board books out onto the carpet in scattered heaps and then waltzed off without trying to straighten it up or notify anyone of the mess,

You are a ho-bag.

Love,
Nem

Dear everybody else,

Here is how to not be a ho-bag while using your library.

1. Please keep an eye on children who might be prone to creating such messes. Actually, just keep an eye on your children, period. If you can't see them, that is not good. Seriously. There are freaky people at libraries. And things children might be tempted to climb up and then fall off of. Also sharp corners. And maybe exposed wiring. Who even knows.

2. When your child makes a mess, please clean it up. I don't CARE if the other kids were pulling out board books too. Please take pride in your library and don't leave it looking trashed.

Helpful Note: You library should have several shelves or carts specifically designed for books that need to be put away. Locate them and make them your friends. If at the end of your visit you realize that you have all these items you don't want to check out, you can just leave them on that shelf/cart to be put away by the library staff. Then you're not leaving a mess, the books go back where they belong, everybody wins and can go frolic in the meadows together while sharing moments of ecstasy and love.

3. There are exceptions to the Stay And Clean It Up Your Own Dang Self Rule.

a. You discover a big ol' mess about 5 minutes after you needed to leave for another appointment.

b. You have a fussy/screaming child with you.

c. You're not sure how to clean it up (especially when it involves, say, reshelving books by Dewey Decimal number) or where the items go.

d. Your water just broke.

In such cases, gather the books up so it's obvious that you made an effort, then go find a library employee. Say words like this: "I'm so sorry, I turned my back on [----]den for a second and he made a big mess. I've tried to straighten it up but I'm not sure how to put these books away in order . . ." Just explain the situation. At this point the librarian or whoever will stop you and say, "Oh, don't worry, we'll take care of it, thanks for letting us know."

And they really will mean that. They'd much rather put the books back in the right order than have to go over and fix books that have been shoved somewhere willy-nilly. They would also much rather clean up the mess with a cheerful heart than listen to your child scream while you try to clean it. Pretty much if the choice is ever between a crying child and something else, we will always pick the something else. Trust me. (Unless the something else is poop or vomit.) And they will respect you for coming forward, for taking responsibility, and for asking for assistance rather than just assuming that it's the library staff's job to clean up the huge messes you regularly leave in your wake. As if the library were Denny's with books.

When they see you during subsequent visits, they will not think, "Oh great, here comes that hobag who lets her kids trash the library. We know what we'll be doing later." They will instead think, "Oh hey, it's that nice lady who takes responsibility and doesn't think we are servants. We like her."

And believe you me: it's good to have the librarians on your side.

Funniest thing I've seen all week

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Thu, 04 Jun 2009 13:04:00 +0000

They recently released the official trailer for New Moon (for the bunker-dwellers, that would be the sequel to Twilight) and I saw it online.

My reaction? If I have to pick a team, I am completely back on Jacob's. Or possibly Laurent's, cuz, yeah, hot.

These ladies, though? Their reactions are a bit more entertaining than mine. I think my favorite part though was when you hear the stars introduce the trailer. Robert Pattinson comes on sounding all British and "it's all for you, the fans" and Taylor Lautner is all, "Yeah, I'm pretty much adorable" and then we get Kristin Stewart . . .

(Note: You can quit around 2:40, the rest of it is just more of the same. And at the very end one of them notices that the MTV Movie Awards are still on, says "Who gives a [flip] about this show?" and turns off the TV.)

I think these ladies may be on Team Jacob as well, perhaps. ;-) Seriously, though, did Kristen Stewart not sound like a teenager being forced to participate in a family reunion skit? "There are motorcycles in this movie. Or something. Whatever. Ughh . . . "

I only share this in the fervent hope that it may be useful to you

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Wed, 03 Jun 2009 17:21:00 +0000

Because I am like Colonel Brandon/Alan Rickman in that way.

So. Here is my advice to the world.

If you, by any chance, say, open a Bill Me Later account one October while doing Christmas shopping because Amazon.com promises you an additional discount on your order, that is fine. And then you pay off that initial charge immediately and put your new little Bill Me Later account in the back of your mind as something that was useful during this venture but should probably be cancelled at some point, great.

Except here's the thing:

When you start getting emails about your Bill Me Later statement, you might choose to just delete them, since you know you don't owe them any money.

And when you get statements in the mail from Bill Me Later you might just choose to shred them, unopened, while rolling your eyes at how paper-happy some companies are to send you statements when you don't even owe them money.

And then, perhaps in May, you will start getting these automated phone messages that are supposedly about your Bill Me Later account. You ignore these, because you have been getting a lot of spam phone messages lately on account of accidentally getting your phone number on some sort of "please call me and spam me all the time" registry. When the messages don't stop you listen to one and hear that your account is past due and you owe over $100 and you can easily pay this bill over the phone. This, to you, might be ridiculous on multiple levels. #1) You know you don't owe anybody $100 and #2) you're not about to give any financial information out over the phone, because you were not raised by stupid monkeys who were themselves raised on a diet of moron sandwiches.

While relating this last experience to your husband, he may tentatively say something like, "Um, usually if a credit card company sends you a statement it's because you owe them money." You might dismiss this with a charming and very French pffft and wave of your hand. Five minutes later he will go get the mail and return with a Bill Me Later statement in his hand, suggesting that finally opening one of these things might solve the mystery.

You open the statement, read what it says, and then your head implodes.

You may have guessed by now that this story is actually about something that happened to ME. And, as Jim Dale would say on the cancelled-tragically-too-soon Pushing Daisies, the facts were these:

I placed my Amazon order, it went through, I paid off the Bill Me Later charge. BUT, it turned out that Amazon split my order in two and sent a second charge of $9 (yep, 9 bucks) to Bill Me Later about a day after I paid my bill. And then that charge just sat there, gathering late fees and processing fees and I know not what. While I blithely ignored all the letters, emails, and phone calls. Because perhaps there are moron sandwiches in my genes.

I will try to spare you the scene that transpired after the full enormity of my complete stupidity hit. Needless to say there was much moaning, thrashing, wailing, gnashing, and words like "My perfect credit score!" and "But I didn't KNOW that's what the mail meant, I've never even had a credit card balance!" and "Ruined! We're ruined!!"

GH was actually incredibly nice about me ruining our credit score and, ultimately, our future lives and the lives of all our future descendents. Much, much nicer than I would have been if the tables were turned, which is something he probably hopes I will remember down the road.

Then I had to call and throw myself upon the mercy of their billing department. Which is where I met my new lover, even Alex. I explained my situation and he actually chuckled. At which point my heart began to hope again. He waived all the charges, saying this had clearly been a mistake and I hadn't known about the additional charge. He also assured me that nothing had been reported to a credit agency so I was just fine there. Aaaaaand gently reminded me that I may wish to open my statements in the future. Of course by that point he could have suggested 45 minutes of Nutella Paintbrush Time and I would have agreed.

So yes. I hope we have all learned something valuable here today.

But I never got to be a mother!

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 14:00:00 +0000

This morning I reached down past my skirt to scratch my bare leg and felt a large hard lump on my calf. For a split-second I was terrified that it was a tumor and I was about to die. Then I realized that it was my rock-hard, grapefruit-sized calf muscle. On account of I have worked out like 7 times in the past two weeks. And that is the kind of instant gratification with which my body (or at least the leg portion of my body) chooses to reward me.

I tell you. It's a good thing they're only 2 feet long and so pale and translucent as to resemble zebra haunches (if they were to make white & blue zebras) because otherwise? These legs would make you cry.

(Note: What is extra awesome about my oh-my-gosh-I-have-a-leg-tumor-and-now-I'm-going-to-die experience is that I forgot the part where I already had one exactly like it over two years ago. So, you know, the last time I was working out.)

(Note the Second: I was going to go find a body-building woman pic to post here so you'd know how hot my legs are except I did a Google image search and then I had to go pour Clorox into my eyes at how awful it all was. You can go look here, but I beg you not to. Seriously. You shouldn't.)

My "you might be a librarian if" list

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Fri, 29 May 2009 16:50:00 +0000

You might be a public librarian if:

All the copies of a book are checked out, and you have to stop yourself from running home and grabbing your personal copy to give to the nice disappointed patron.

Your version of heroin is hearing that someone loved a book you recommended.

You organize the books in your home library for fun.

You make less with your master's degree than many people do with their high-school degree.

You earned said masters degree so that you could spend your days showing people how to use their Yahoo email account. (First step, open a Gmail account instead. Yahoo sucks bricks.)

You laugh until you cry when you hear the phrase "librarian shortage." Then you go twist a few of the pins you keep in your ALA voodoo doll.

You secretly bristle when you hear the term "librarian" applied to just anyone who works in a library, up to and including janitorial staff. You realize this is an elitist behavior, but you just don't care.

Patrons mistake you for a tax adviser. Or financial adviser. Or lawyer. Or doctor. Or secretary. Or trash-thrower-awayer. All are flattering except for those last two. They are not so much.

Parents mistake you for a babysitter.

You dream about orchestrating a fake kidnapping in the children's section to teach people A Very Important Lesson but know that parents would probably not even notice anything was happening.

You have become adept at recognizing various psychiatric disorders.

You get to learn way, way too much about people's personal lives--usually by way of the bellowing cell phone conversations they're having right in front of you.

You get so used to reminding people about appropriate behavior that you have to stop yourself from doing it when you're off-duty. And maybe sometimes you don't stop yourself, and then your husband is embarrassed to be with you.

You develop an eye twitch 5 minutes before the junior high gets out--whether or not you can see the clock. Your body just knows.

You are happy when you find sex books hidden in random parts of the library, because it means a teenager is learning about sex from an actual book rather than from their idiot friends.

You sometimes get to make wallets and flowers out of duct-tape with a bunch of teenagers and call it work.

You got to read the last Harry Potter before anybody else.

You accost strangers in public about the books they are reading.

You cannot possibly narrow it down to one favorite book.

Are there any I'm forgetting?

You might be a librarian if . . .

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Thu, 28 May 2009 22:32:00 +0000

Goddessdivine had a hysterical "you might be a teacher if" list up on her blog, so I looked around online to see if there were any "you might be a librarian if" lists. This list was written by Danielle Dreger-Babbitt at Examiner.com. I decided to have a look and see if I feel it's accurate.

You might be a librarian if:

You compulsively reshelve items and straighten shelves when browsing at Barnes and Noble
(I actually do this at other libraries. When visiting Barnes & Noble or Borders, I have to throw all notions of organization, rightness, or sanity out the window before I even walk in. Otherwise I end up in a corner, rocking and drooling between shelves that make no earthly sense.)

You alphabetize your spice rack (and everything else)
(Ooooh, I know what I'm doing this weekend!)

You own more cardigans than shoes
(Not even true. Although I do love me a good cardi.)

You own cats named "Ernest, "Kerouac," or "Flannery."
(Excuse me, cats? Not if I don't want my breath sucked out while I sleep. I am, however, planning to give all my dogs, children, chickens, and baby lambs names from literature.)

You have a secret desire to be on a bookcart drill team
(Wow. Um, now I do.)

You know the Dewey Decimal System by heart
(No, no I don't. And it's really embarassing that I don't. I feel so out of it when I look at librarian t-shirts at Cafepress.)

Nancy Pearl is your idol and you own her action figure
(This was actually Daltongirl's going-away present as I left to go get my MLS)

You go on vacation and visit other libraries
(Especially if it's in Hawaii, and if I think I could maybe kill and hide one of the existing employees and then take their spot)

You don't have a Netflix account and borrow all of your music and movies from the library instead
(Well, yeah. You don't have to be a librarian to know that free = better.)

Your home library has just as many books as a small public library
(Not anymore. I now think of my public library as an extension of my home library. In most cases I don't need to own the book because I know they do. Different rules apply, however, to bathroom reading.)

You were totally blogging and social networking before 2003
(Sorry, wasn't that cool. But then, I wasn't a librarian then, either.)

You read banned books. (And so. should. everyone.)

This has me thinking about what I would put on my list. I think it will deserve its own blog post. Stay tuned . . .

Oh, I memorialed

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Tue, 26 May 2009 17:54:00 +0000

I hope y'all's Memorial Days were good. Last Friday I was at Albertsons and noticed a veritable sea of potted & wrapped chrysanthemums in front of the store. The volume was surprising, as was the part where people were snatching them up like nobody's business. I thought, "Huh. Who even knew that mums were so popular here? I always thought they were kind of lame."

Then about 6 hours later I remembered about Memorial Day. And how some people actually live near the grave sites of deceased loved ones and so would be putting flowers on said graves in commemoration of the day. (Note: May wish to consider selling potted mums at roadside stand near cemetery as money-making venture next MD.) The purpose of the flowers didn't automatically occur to me because I think the last time I was in proximity with an ancestor's grave I was about 5 years old. I think if I did live near my family plots (all located in Virginia and North Carolina) I would probably be tempted to whisper shocking things while placing the flowers. "I belong to the Mormon cult!" "We have a black President!" "This one time I made biscuits & gravy and I completely screwed it up and people thought it was French!" Stuff like that. Note: I would not do this to my grandparents, but instead to the relatives I never actually knew. Nanny and Grandaddy would only get sweet words.

My day was lovely, though. I kissed GH goodbye as he got home from work and got in to bed (no holidays for him) and then drove down to Provo to hang out with the Precii, their parents, and coolboy. We drove up South Fork Canyon and had a picnic lunch and did a little stroll and enjoyed the gorgeous, gorgeous weather. A group of not-at-all-socially-awkward-seeming sword-fighters were there, practicing, and little Ethan could not even get over the fact that he was pretty much watching a pirate battle. His fork was in his hand and he kept swinging it around to mimic their movements.

I brought the kiddies a completely kick-trash library puppet stage that had been destined for the thrift store. I do what I can to solidify my favorite auntie status. We got to watch several theatricals. Savannah's were puppet based, mostly featuring Minnie Mouse, whereas Ethan's were about matchbox cars and airplanes. He was a courteous narrator who would let you know who was about to come onstage so as to alleviate any potential viewer anxiety. "Now it's going to be Lighting McQueen!" "Now it's going to be a stealth bomber!" "Now it's going to be Chick! Chick's naughty . . . "

Got home in time for a fried chicken & limeade dinner in the park with GH. So it was pretty much perfect.

(photo by the famous and talented Ed McCulloch on his iPhone--because I like to have famous people take pictures of my niece & nephew for me)

Happy Memorial Day

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Mon, 25 May 2009 16:29:00 +0000

May your grilling, traveling, visiting, swimming, eating, remembering, and all other activities today be happy and safe ones.

Also, here's a shout-out to my dad (retired Air Force) and my brother (active duty Army). I love you guys!

(image from Howlin Mad Detachment - Marine Corps League blog)

Buzz buzz

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Fri, 22 May 2009 16:11:00 +0000

The good news is I'm not working today. The bad news is I am working tomorrow. Special. So today I'm left to my own devices and I think it will be a "get the work done" day.

I have actually been making great(ish) strides at decluttering the apartment and keeping it tidy. I'm trying to tackle one thing at a time, lest I fall into my usual habit. (Usual habit = get twelve projects started, lose interest in all of them, leave projects lying around on floor, trip on project at some point and kill self.)

Maybe if I report my progress here it will make me feel a bit more accountable. For instance, am dying to show you pictures of my gorgeous balcony garden which has been in place for nearly a week now and has not. even. died!!! But first I need to finish potting the last few things and get the camera batteries charged. And maybe get some baby ducklings up here for the cuteness factor.

Am also v. excited about the fabric I bought to cover my rocker/glider cushions. Have not actually covered said cushions yet, but instead have the fabric draped over them in an "I'll get to it and maybe you won't even notice the difference until then or maybe ever" sort of way. Possibly in my head I'm waiting for Cicada to just turn up at my house and cover them in exchange for lunch or pie. (It could even be both!)

Went through the desk drawers, hauled everything out, and reorganized in an o-so-pleasing manner. Encouraged by all the created space, I would like to do this in the kitchen cupboards and under the bathroom sink, which by now have probably morphed into portals which lead to another dimension where tiny, evil, breath-sucking trolls live. Except right now I'm sort of in a mood where I would almost rather throw something away than find a place for it. Don't know if that's a bad frame of mind to be doing decluttering in or if it's actually a really, really, really good one.

Also, I have absolutely no plans for Memorial Day. None. I have the day off but GH doesn't, so he'll go to work Sunday night and spend all of Monday sleeping. Can anyone please give me some ideas? (Update: My sister Jenny just reminded me that I am quite possibly brain damaged because she'll be back in town by then and that we're actually spending Monday together. Yay!)

Yeah, it's pretty much a habit now

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Thu, 21 May 2009 00:20:00 +0000

Today I completed my second day in a row of working out at my community rec center. Am sure I will be a hardbody in no time.

And if I were at all feeling unmotivated about gyming it up today, the sight of my tummy pooching out over the waistband of my skirt and the sensation of my ab fat jiggling around independent of my body as I walked got all the motivated feelings right back where they belonged.

I shall now reward myself for such hard work by walking over and observing the 20 ducklings that live in the complex and possibly trying to smuggle a couple of them back into the apartment so that I may hold them to my face and coo at them.

Speaking of ducklings, everyone needs to watch this video while squealing loudly enough to break glass. It is required.

Shoulda been a 900 number

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Tue, 19 May 2009 05:25:00 +0000

(Note: Do they even make 900 numbers any more? I don't even know. What I do know from late-night commercials is that there are all these attractive people holed up in their homes alone in tiny shorts, ready to connect with other holed-up-attractive singles through the telephone. Which, yeah, that seems about right.)

I had a steamy, steamy conversation on the phone today with a stranger. He didn't know me; I didn't know him. We breathed dirty, dirrty words at each other. Words like "money market," "emergency fund," "Roth IRA," and "whole life insurance." And oh, it was good. I waited to call until GH was in the next room sleeping, so he wouldn't notice my heaving bosom and grow suspicious.

This all happened when I called USAA (translation, the best club in the world ever to belong to, right up there with Costco) and asked to speak with a financial advisor. I follow several budgeting/frugality/money-management blogs, (all sexy) but realized that right now I need a bit of individualized advice. Thanks to my crazymad budgeting skillz and the part where we are currently a DINK family (each of us almost makes one income, so I'm counting it) there are choices to make. Choices like:

Now that we're saving a bit of money, where's the best place to keep it?

Should I try to pay my student loan off sooner, even if it means saving less?

How much should we be saving for retirement? And is it better to put it in a Roth or a 401K or both?

Will we ever in life be able to afford a house? (Answer: probably not)

What happens if we go down to one-income once I start having behbehs? (He didn't address this one so much, more went off about the need for term life insurance and how freaking expensive diapers are. This part was less sexy.)

It was really nice though to have somebody to talk it out with and to give good advice and help me get my priorities right. GH is wonderful and very patient with my budgeting addiction, but he really does not get excited about the money discussions the way I do. Unless, say, I'm beginning a discussion that in any way sounds like, "Hey, what if we save money by cutting out [cable/Tivo/your still-beating heart from your chest]?" Then you'll see excited.

So. I came away with a renewed determination & purpose. My financial priorities used to look something like this:

1. Do not spend any money ever.
2. Live as though you're only on one income. (Yeah . . . not exactly happening. And for me, that is saying something, people.)
3. Get GH accustomed to the whole "budgeting" thing.
4. Build a 6-8 month emergency fund for when one or both of our employers lays us off.

Have accepted that #1 and #2 are unrealistic. Have pretty well accomplished #3 & #4. Now I'm moving on to:

1. Start funding an IRA
2. Get our savings into accounts where they can earn more interest
3. Get my student loan out of the picture asap because even though it's not "bad" debt like the credit card kind, it still nags at me and I'd like it to be gone
4. Go to Hawaii--because I think there should always be a "go to Hawaii" on pretty much any of my goal lists.

So yay for financial goals! Let's hear yours!

It's embarassing how bad my memory is

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Fri, 15 May 2009 20:44:00 +0000

Got this letter at my work email address and it caused me no end of enjoyment. Figured it would be wrong not to share. My responses are in parenthesis.

Hi [Nemesis]
How are you doing today? (I am doing quite well, thank you.) I went on vacation trip to London and attend a program to support people living with HIV / AIDS, I am very sorry i did not tell you about it until now. (Um, you SHOULD be sorry. I mean, I would pass on the HIV/AIDS conference because so many of the library teens have already cause me to spend hours weeping over the fate of humanity, but rubbing your London trip in my face, I must say, is a bit ho-baggish of you.)

I really need your help because I am stranded in London, (oh dear!) you will not believe I forgot my bag in the taxi where my money, passport, documents and other valuable things were kept on my way back to the hotel I was staying. (You're right, I will not believe it.) I'm staying in a 5 star hotel, (Wow, when millions of people are dying from AIDS? Way to win my sympathy there.) so I too have a hotel bill of $ 1500 and you want to pay the bill. (Really? I do?) I tried to explain my situation, but threaten to bring the case to the police and it is not necessary at this time. (I can't begin to imagine why you wouldn't want to involve the police.) Please, I want to help with the sum of $ 2500 to settle my outstanding invoices from hotels, food and transport myself to myself (Transporting yourself to yourself? That's a bit sci-fi, I must say.) at the Embassy to retrieve a temporary travel home. I am sending you this email from the city Library (mmmm . . . libraries) and I will be there for a few hours while waiting for your e-mail,

I will really appreciate if I can send the money ASAP, I promise money back as soon as I return home.I will appreciate whatever you can afford to help me with,Kindly let me know if you can be of help? so that i can send you the details.Your reply will be greatly appreciated.

Merrilee

Now, this letter is a new sort of thing for me. The writer is operating not under the "hello, kind stranger, I heard you might be able to help me" mode but instead upon the basis that we are in fact friends and know each other well enough to be keeping each other up on our travel plans. So if her name does not sound familiar to me, maybe she/he is hoping that I'll be like, "Well, she certainly seems to know me. I must have forgotten about her! Gosh, I feel really bad about that. I'd better send her the money to assuage my guilt over having completely forgotten our relationship."

Am half-tempted to write and say, "Oh my gosh, that sounds terrible. Remember that one time when we went clubbing together in Ibiza and I left my purse in the bathroom by accident? This is totally like that! Except now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure that you already owe me money from the time when we were at Costco with my membership card and they would only take American Express so I put that outdoor grill on my American Express and you said you would pay me back. So you go ahead and wire that money into my account and then we'll talk. Stay sweet and have a great summer!"

Making GH love me a little less, right here

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Wed, 13 May 2009 16:16:00 +0000

I was going to blog about how happy I am that this week is the finale week for so many television shows. When expressing this to GH, however, he became angry and informed me that I was no longer invited to the Lost finale party we are attending at Rice.and.Mr.Pudding's home in Ogden this evening.

Well, fudge.

(Except I quite like the Rice Puddings, so will not let GH's bad attitude deprive me of their company.)

Tried to explain to him that with that big chunk of time soon-to-be cleared out of our (his) schedule, there are so many other things we can do together. He can use the Time Formerly Known as 24/ House/ Prison Break/ Supernatural/ Smallville/ Chuck/ Fringe/ Dollhouse/ Whatever Else is On Time to do things like search for a new job and build up his portolio and turn me on by vacuuming and counter-top-cleaning.

And then together we can use the Lost/HIMYM/The Office/30 Rock Time to go to the gym and lose the "I Got Married and So Now Fat Just Flies Out of the Ether and Sticks to Me and That Is the Only Possible Explanation" weight. This just irritated GH even more, because this to him is called "trading good things like TV in for crappy things like exercise." He is, of course, correct in stating that exercise is crap. I, however, maintain that cardiovascular health, a healthy Body Mass Index, more energy, and the wickedawesome leg muscles that come to me in a ridiculously short amount of time upon beginning a workout are the opposite of crap.

(Please don't ask about my abs though. I will possibly never have those, ever, in life, or anything approaching them. It is a tragedy.)

So anyway. Yay for finale season!

UPDATE: For those who have been following shows this year, what are you going to do with your new free time? (Besides cry and go into withdrawals at the same support facility as GH, of course.)

Conversations that couples probably did not have 50 years ago

miss.nem@gmail.com (Nemesis) — Mon, 11 May 2009 16:35:00 +0000

Remember how we discussed the part where I tend to think way too much about the too-far-ahead future? And how GH usually humors me? Yeah, I've changed my mind about the humoring part.

Yesterday he decided to be clever and start doing an impression of me. (Note: in his impressions, I sound like I belong on Teen Girl Squad. It is important to know this so that you have a clear mental image.)

So. We have GH, mocking me in Teen Girl Squad voice. (And no, we were not even talking about babies, so don't ask me where this came from.)

GH: And what if one day we have a baby that is half-girl/half-BOY? What then? And we have to just decide right then what it's going to be! And what if we pick the wrong thing and the kid resents us for it. But we have to decide! We HAVE to decide!!!

Me: You think we're going to have a hermaphrodite kid?

GH: No, but it's something YOU probably worry about.

Me: Actually, that one hadn't occurred to me. Okay, I guess we'd have to pray and fast about whether it's actually a boy or a girl and tell the doctor which---

GH: Oh. We're definitely going to have them make it a girl.

Me: How come?

GH: We just are. Because it would look weird later if they started as a boy and then changed over to be a girl.

Me: Weirder than a girl who switched later to be a guy? Like that "guy" on Oprah who had the baby?

GH: What guy on Oprah? I have no idea what you're talking about.

Me: You know, the one who was born a girl but had a sex change but kept his reproductive organs so he could give birth later---

GH: ---Okay see now I'm uncomfortable, I don't want to talk about this any more. I only brought this up to make fun of you and you're taking it seriously and turning it into an actual discussion. This is not okay.