Saving the World with a Glue Gun

                So, my brother-in-law and family are away for the holidays and I’m on house sitting duty, which means I have to go keep their cats and television company.  I wouldn’t want their tv to feel neglected after all. This turned out to be the perfect opportunity to catch up on all the episodes of the new show The Librarians.  It’s not quite as good as the movies. After all it takes four librarians to replace Noah Wylie.  But still, it has action, librarians, mythology, saving the world from evil; all the things I like in a good story.

                Unfortunately, it’s a little depressing. It reminds me that in the superhero realm I lack skills. I don’t have photographic, super-computing, encyclopedic knowledge. As a matter of fact when it comes to mythology, history, art, the classics, I rather stink. I know a fair amount about genetics, health, animals, particularly livestock, religious history and young adult fantasy literature, but those don’t seem to be a knowledge basis needed to save the world from evil.

                In Jim Hines’ The Libriomancer, the protagonist has the ability to grab weapons from fantasy and science fiction novels. But even if I could grab a weapon out of a book, which I can’t, I don’t know classic fantasy and sci fi well enough to arm myself with all the right books. And Tuesday Next, the literary special agent of Jasper Fforde’s Thursday Next series, is able to jump into books and change what happens. She is apparently responsible for Jane Eyre having a somewhat happy ending, after all.  But this requires her to have a rather exacting knowledge of literature, which I lack.

                It appears I have no hope of being a literary special agent, a libriomancer, or one of The Librarians. That is until I read Firegirl by Tony Abbott with the Homer Jr. High School Book Club. In Firegirl, Tom the protagonist dreams of having superhero powers. But, little ones. He wants some odd power that would be worthless in most situations, but just the right thing in a particular story.  Something like spinning really fast, or rolling uphill, or having a hand made of glue.

                So, I’m trying to figure out a story where a little library superpower can save the world. A power like the ability to find miss-shelved books, or being really good with a toilet bowl plunger, or the ability to glue together small pieces of construction paper into almost anything. Then I’ll say “Ha!” to those Librarians, “You may have super sneaking-photographic memory- living computer- encyclopedic minds with awesome fighting skills, but can you save the world with a glue gun?”

Five Rules for Library Sales People

 

I was at the desk the other day and the phone rang. It was a sales person, which I knew immediately when he said, “Priscilla, how are you?” like we were best buds and he was just calling to catch up on old times. The problem is that most of my best buds bark, they don’t talk.  And the ones that do talk know I don’t do the charmy-smarmy best buds routine. So, the question was kind of a dead giveaway.

I was trying to help a patron and to tell a staff member something, all the time this guy on the phone is talking fast and trying to sell me something. So, I said “No, sorry, I don’t have any money in the budget for that.” Unfortunately, I didn’t slam the phone down. So, he kept talking, but I was looking for a book, and checking something on the computer and not really listening, until he said – “so I’ll just send that along then for your approval, okay? It’s just $300.00”

“No,” I rather screamed at that point. “Did you hear what I said? I said no. Don’t send me anything.” He kept talking, but I just said, “Sorry, I’m busy,” and hung up.

Now, I don’t care whether someone is selling pencils or radio ads, there are five simple rules for sales people to abide by if they don’t want to irritate the librarian.  And really, if you want to sell me something, not annoying me is a good place to start.

No. 1 – don’t fail to identify yourself and just start chitchatting like we are best friends. I know you think you’ve caught me off guard and I’m so busy trying to figure out who you are that I won’t hang up on you. But here’s what you don’t know. I’m a curmudgeon and no matter how forgetful I maybe, I have very few friends. So, I will remember what they sound like and I will know you aren’t one of them.
 
No. 2 – don’t ask me “how I am?” I know you don’t really care how I am. I may not be able to detect all the things a dog can smell, but I recognize insincerity even through the phone line. And I’m not really interested in telling anyone how I am. Unless I’m annoyed and then I don’t have to tell anyone. They know. You should too. Assume I’m annoyed and then you don’t have to ask how I am.

No. 3 – don’t keep talking after I’ve said no.
 
No. 4 –repeating yourself, saying things in a new and different way, saying them faster, all still constitute talking and therefore, when done after I’ve said no, violate rule number 3. Your talking more won’t change reality and it won’t change my mind. Trying to wear me down won’t endear you to me. It will however put you on my bad list. And being on the librarian’s bad list is like being on Santa’s bad list. You will be there for a long time.

No. 5 – flattery won’t save you. Telling me what a great customer I am and how you value my business, will either kick in rule number 2 (i.e. it will stink of insincerity) or if I’ve already said no, it will kick in rule number 3. Which means you are now talking insincerely after I said no and will definitely be getting moldy books for Christmas.

Sales people should learn the five rules for calling the librarian. It won’t actually help make any sales, but it might help me be a kinder, gentler person. And didn’t you say you really wanted to help me, after all?

 

 

Christmas Baking

 

                 I’m becoming my mother. Longing for the nostalgic days of my youth when, at least from this distance, things seemed so much better. Christmas, in particular, brings that out. Because Christmases past always seem so much simpler, more romantic, and just plain fun. Why is that?

                Something about Christmas makes me, the least crafty human being I know, think of doing crafty things. Forget anything to do with sewing. Sewing machines make me break out in hives. And I never have mastered knitting or crocheting. Bruce wouldn’t let me near a jigsaw, for fear I’d lose a few fingers. And even glue and construction paper aren’t a safe bet when I’m around. Baking is my Christmas craft of choice.

I bake a mean pie and cookies are always a good bet. My mother, who gave up on teaching me anything crafty when I was about nine, was the one who got me started on baking. She said those magic words to me. “When you’re ready to learn to cook, read a cook book.” And that I could do.

I’m a messy baker. There’s flour on the floor, and in my hands, and on my face. The knobs to the cupboard doors get all gooey. And I usually end up with goop in my hair and ears. And things don’t always turn out looking like the pictures in the book. The incentive is to get to eat what I make though – so I don’t care what it looks like or how messy it is.

The first Christmas after Bruce and I were married we were, like most newlyweds of our day, broke and without Christmas tree ornaments. We cut down a Charlie Brown tree on the farm we were working on. Wired some of the bottom branches in to the gaps at the top of the tree.  And decorated the thing with gingerbread men and popcorn balls.

Every evening, when we sat and read or watched tv, Bruce would grab a cookie or popcorn ball off the tree to eat. By Christmas, the tree was pretty bare. But still, when I look back on it, it was one of the best Christmases ever.

The problem now is, that baking isn’t about the process. It’s not about being in the kitchen having fun. It’s about getting it done and having something to show for it. Not to sound all Zen, but I think Christmas was more fun when I had less expectation of it and just enjoyed the smell of baking in the kitchen.

So, if you’re looking for a simple Christmas, put away the lists, stop being so productive, and check out a cookbook from the library. Go home, turn on the oven, use your hands to play with the dough. And when you’re done – eat all the cookies yourself!