day one hundred forty-four.

i spent the afternoon/evening watching a combination of harry potter movies and a true life marathon.
sometimes the tv just knows what i want.

also, even though i'm done working on children's lit for awhile, i have a backlog of some beauties to post on occasion.

like this one!

On the beat : policemen at work
by Barry Robinson and Martin J. Dain
c1968

day one hundred forty-four.

(my bedroom is a dusty place)

last night i hung out with friends ashley and maggie, playing games (moods and last word), drinking crystal light, and coercing maggie into listening to justin beiber for the first time (because that is what good friends do).
i slept until 2:00 pm today.

day one hundred forty-three.

dance friday, coming to you live from the dining room table.

visited the eye doctor this morning.
i had my eyes dilated, but saw nothing new.

day one hundred forty-two.

welcome back to the suburbs, where trader joe's is more than just a fever dream, cable television and couches are steady companions, and people in line behind you at target expect you to care about the presence of vince vaughn's yoga-instructor mother.


i worked up until my bus ride yesterday, and one of my books had a familiar looking cover image.

Waterfront reporter by Felix Riesenberg, Jr. (at left), and husband from another time (at right):

day one hundred forty-one.

so...he's a dude, right?

i know how "maggie" "loves" these sorts of "things"

day one hundred forty.

The martial arts
by Ken Reisberg
c1979




i guess the one who stays vertical (and upright) is the winner. this applies to so many activities (cycling, drinking wine, being tall).

three ants were harmed in the making of this post.
call the aspca.

day one hundred thirty-nine.

it is hot and there are ants and i shut my window so they'd stop coming in so now it is hotter and i am going to make a to-do list and try going to bed.

tomorrow, tomorrow.

day one hundred thirty-eight.

my mom came to visit yesterday so we did some vintage/book shopping downtown
(editors note: we did not purchase any of the following items)

dusty faux french toast: $16

lady grater

we had tapas for dinner with my sister and then went for dessert.
mom managed to eat only half of this enormous, layered, anything-similar-should-be-ashamed-to-call-itself-a brownie.

today i got finger printed for my internship.
i have an identity; i am identifiable.

day one hundred thirty-seven.

the aforementioned new rug.

i slept between the hours of 8:00 pm and 3:30 am, falling asleep during a movie about a boy who couldn't sleep.
i also apparently have no concept of when the sun comes up in late may.
but, this is the most productive saturday morning in recent memory.
as in, i am awake, i am alert.

day one hundred thirty-six.

the closest i could get to a "lost" dancing post, on the occasion of its final week (since people don't so much dance on that show, as they do run screaming in terror, cry, and/or explode).
so we have boone(ish).
happy to see he's kept up his dancing since "the rules of attraction"

and a bonus, physics-free daniel faraday:

day one hundred thirty-five.

sculpture from junk: an epidemic
or, why some things are terrible

c1967

"hey, i'm marcel duchamp, the urinal guy? i put some marshmallows in a cage GIVE ME AN AWARD."

and i guess my sink of dirty, rusty flatware is more valuable than i thought

day one hundred thirty-four.

(main library)

i bought an area rug this afternoon for $10, then walked home drinking lemonade.
it wasn't warm, but it felt like summer.

day one hundred thirty-three.

caption: a kangaroo wearing boxing gloves in a playful clutch.

magnets: how do they work?

day one hundred thirty-two.

animals! of varying levels of appropriateness

in my book (of scary things), opossums are the worst

from the desk of co-worker laura:
Shadow the cigar-smoking cat
by Bronson Potter & Rala Ashworth

I'm Taggerty Toad
by Peter Pavey

the tiger interrupted his speech:

so he gave him the FINGER

(yes, the toad only has 4 digits, so he doesn't technically have one middle finger. but what else could this be, other than an easter egg of profanity?)

day one hundred thirty-one.

genre fiction: a sampling

Charlie All Night
by Jennifer Crusie
c1996

is there a more accurate statement in the whole of literature?

eloquence

and looking like furniture is a turn-on

The High Window
by Raymond Chandler
c1942

murder! intrigue!

hot

i'm not sure exactly what "faces like stale beer" look like, but i'd bet they are accompanied by what we call "sorority voice"

and i take what i said about accurate statements back:

day one hundred thirty.

(Radiation, by Laurence Pringle)

sometimes i wonder about all the x-rays i've had
literally hundreds, over the span of highly formative years
many gave no new insights, to the point that i started refusing them when i was old enough to assert myself
preservation or frustration? (these two are intermingled)

i slept for a full 12 hours last night. it made me feel young.
i am looking forward to a next week, wherein my only responsibilities are going to work, and returning my library materials on time.

day one hundred twenty-nine.

dance friday: 31st century strong

day one hundred twenty-eight.

fun with subject headings!
all of these have come up at work recently, as fine examples of how sometimes library of congress subject headings (LCSH) are odd little things.

1. Pancakes, waffles, etc.

offensive towards the diverse identities of breakfast food

2. Beast marriage

3. Marriage with deceased wife's sister

4. Sex role

especially for a children's book (but really for everything), i think "gender role" would be more accurate and conducive to an actual search. and less, well, gigglesome to readers (or, cataloging graduate students)

5. Courtship in animals

i'm imagining tiny mice holding hands, riding ferris wheels.

day one hundred twenty-seven.

puppies!

i try to be mature, you guys. i swear.

puppy's first group x-ray.

final went well this morning.
grad school is now 1/2 complete.
tomorrow is the day for thai food and a baumbach-athon.
i like the month of may.