libraries -- a refuge of peace? not so much for me

when i was little, i used to love going to the library with my mom to check out my favorite books and play in the kiddie area. i've always loved books, but my love of the library was replaced by not-so-pleasant feelings when i went to college and had to research topics in "the stacks," which, at penn state, are dark, narrow and creepy corridors that reek of stale air and old books. those experiences, along with having to do mandatory sorority study hours in the library (come on, i would rather have chatted with my sisters about what party we were going to that night than have to crack open a boring oriental philosophy or history of communications book!) gave me a less-than-savory feeling about libraries.

after i graduated from penn state, and then grad school, i thought i'd give libraries another chance, now that i wasn't *forced* to use them for boring research. i went to my little hometown library, where i enjoyed going as a kid, and got an adult library card and checked out some books about my new career and some fun reading, and i had a great relationship with my library -- for a few years.

since i was going fairly regularly and reading quite a bit, i decided to check out a whole stack of books on some of the locations that dork and i were thinking of going for our honeymoon. frommers, fodor, lonely planet, you name them, i checked them out, with great intention of reading them all and doing some research on what island locations would be the most tranquil, have the best beaches and, of course, have the best shopping. (only kidding about that last one....mostly).

i did manage to read and get great info, but in the process of planning my wedding, packing away a lot of my stuff and moving dork's stuff in to my (our) townhouse, three of the books got misplaced/packed away/thrown out/kicked under the bed, or otherwise sucked into that big black hole that exists when you can't find something you're l0oking for. i returned the remaining 10 or so books that i had....and getting caught up in married life, then enjoying the barnes & noble that had opened, and then becoming pregnant, i hadn't visited the library in a few years because i was occupied with other concerns. but now that my concern at hand was the little peanut growing inside, i thought i'd head to the library to check out some books on parenting and healthy baby development. i almost had a hormonal meltdown when i went to check out my books and the library tech said that i couldn't get them -- because i had built up $100 in fines!! that wasn't exactly what i had planned for, and in my pregnant state, i didn't handle the news so well....so i slammed my books on the counter and stormed out, never to return again....until this week.

i went there to pick out some books for an elderly friend of mine who recently had surgery and can't drive for awhile. she loaned me her library card and gave me a list of what she wanted, so i buzzed through the stacks over my lunch break and even found her some vhs tapes on the railroad that i thought she would enjoy watching. i marched up to the circulation desk and presented the materials and the library card of "mrs. jane doe" and the lady checked them out and uneventfully slid them down to the end of the counter.

i figured that i'd take care of getting my daughter a library card while i was there, and she proceeded to help me with that. that is, up until i gave her my daughter's last name, which didn't match mine of "d0e". the following exchange then ensued:
"i can't let you take these books."
"you mean these, that i just checked out?"
"yes, because they're not yours."
"but i got them for my friend and this is her library card, which you just used to check the books out on."
"yes but i thought that was you."
"so you're saying i could have taken the books if i wouldn't have mentioned my daughter's last name, which was different than what was on the card."
(silence)
"my friend is elderly and can't drive, and she can't come to the library right now."
"well, she'll have to come in to sign a form saying that she's homebound, and then we will put that on file, and then a family member of hers can check out books for her."
"but her family live out of the area. i have her number on my cell -- let me call her and she'll give you authorization for me to pick them up."
"are you a family member? if not, don't bother calling her."
"no, i just told you, her family live out of town."
(again, silence)
"so, if i understand you, i just spent 1/2 hour out of my day looking for books, waiting in line for 15 minutes to check them out, actually checking them out, but then not being able to take them because i'm not a family member on record."
(note: i didn't exactly resemble someone intending to rip off a library in broad daylight, as i stood there in a pant suit and heels, carrying my coach bag in one hand and cell in the other).
"that's correct. so...do you think you'll be back for the books, because if you come back, we'll have to re-check them out again?"

once again...there was a slam and a storm....and a big apology to my friend for coming up empty-handed when i visited her later in the day. i'm not exactly sure if it will be a few years until i visit the library again....but i do know that i don't encounter that kind of "customer service" at barnes & noble. and last time i checked, my local library didn't have scones and infusions of caffeine readily available, so bet you can guess where i'll be doing most of my reading in the future.

hormones -- and hair -- from hell

i don't know about you, but i always was under the impression that, once you hit about 18, your 'girl' hormones got under control and all of the icky acne problems that occurred around *that* time of the month were suddenly wiped out, leaving you with nothing but rosy, smooth, and glowing skin all the time.

why, then, if that's the case, did i wake up this morning with a brand new zit that's big enough to have its own zip code? (mind you, i'm twice the age of someone who should be affected by hormones, so it's not like i'm reliving my second puberty or anything!) as i peered in the mirror this morning and saw an oily nose and forehead staring back at me -- and a forehead that now too closely resembled that of my cromagnon ancestors -- i debated whether it was even worth it to pile on loads of makeup to try and cover that sucker up. but then i came to my senses and devised what i thought was a perfectly reasonable plan as i finished getting ready for work and was ready to leave the house: i would cut my bangs to cover the zit!

never mind that i just got my hair cut last week. never mind that my bangs were already neatly brushed over to the side and i was having a semi-good hair morning. and never mind that, as usual, i was running out the door to get my daughter to daycare and get to work at a reasonable time (i can't say 'get to work on time', because that rarely happens!) no, that all went out the window when i deduced that i suddenly needed fringe hanging straight down to cover my forehead, and i needed it done NOW.

i went on a mission to find small manicure scissors, then proceeded to pull my bangs straight down over my eyes and lopped off about 1/2 inch or so, so that the forehead was bare no longer and the red spot was now incognito. i brushed off all the little hair fuzzies from my shirt (or is it blouse? i never know which is which...) and re-styled my hair so that my newly-shorn bangs hung stylishly over my forehead. guess it would have probably saved time to have just put a dab of concealer on and run out the door -- but the other rotten part about the wrath of female hormones? we don't always think rationally when aunt flo is in town. any female can attest to that -- and any man who lives with one of us certainly can!

to bee or not to bee

so, i know i rip on Dork a lot for not pulling his weight and being a typical male who has to be told to do everything and who doesn't *want* to want to do things....but i do feel badly about something i asked him to do that went terribly wrong.

we have an awning over the front of our house, and i've noticed a small wasp nest being built over the past few weeks in the upper corner, nest to the roof. in the vein of "if i want something done, i'll do it myself," i attempted to knock the little sucker down myself about a week ago, but it was kinda hidden under the awning and i couldn't see it and was afraid to just take a whack at it and have it fall down on top of me. after hearing me complain about it one too many times, Dork said he'd take care of it, and he proceded to buy some wasp and hornet spray at home depot over the weekend.

we chatted on the phone yesterday -- i was at work and he had the day off -- and we agreed that we'd go to see a baseball game with our daughter that evening. we talked about what we'd have for dinner and we discussed how my day was going. then he casually mentioned it: he had taken care of the wasp nest. in the process? five stings and a beat up leg. he promised me that he didn't look like quasimoto with a swollen, huge forehead or anything, but i couldn't even imagine getting stung FIVE times. unfortunately, our family's beekeeper outfit was at the drycleaners (OK, that's one thing neither Dork nor I have ever been for Halloween, although we've been many other odd characters...) so he had no protection other than his madras plaid shorts, flip flops and t-shirt (assuming he wasn't out there bare-chested, which maybe i shouldn't assume).

knock on wood, i have never gotten stung and am kinda skeeved out about it ever happening, since i don't even know if i'm allergic to bee stings. but i felt so horrible after he told me what happened, like i was mostly responsible for his ill fated incident. evidently, when he aimed the spray can at the nest, the bees just went crazy and flew at him. he said he was flailing around and got stuck in the hedges (he had to stand in the middle of the hedge to reach the wasp nest, hence the scratches and scrapes all over his leg). i'll bet our neighbors wondered what kind of funky dance my husband was doing outside in the front of the yard!

i dug out the neosporin when i got home from work and gave Dork some tlc for his bee-fighting efforts. but the real kicker to his pain and suffering? the stupid nest is still there, and the little suckers are still flying in and flying out; although i did spy a few dead ones on the pavemet this morning, so his spraying wasn't all in vain. let's hope the effects of the spray kick in over the next day or two so we can knock the nest down before Dork becomes their afternoon snack once again!