Friday, February 14, 2014

Happy Valentines Day

    I know that Valentines Day is (now) a manufactured holiday.  I still like it.  It happens right when I start to miss the "rush" of Christmas.  All the bright red and pinks contrast nicely against the gloom of gray and white and dull brown.
   So I plan.  I plan a meal of red and hearts.  Usually spaghetti.  I even bought heart shaped pasta from a fund raiser last fall for this very event.  I make Jell-O jigglers (like them better than the regular recipe) and buy strawberries.  I make heart shaped sugar cookies. Even put candles on the table.
    Yep, I like Valentine's Day.
    This year, though, they called and asked if I would come into work (heart work!) until closing.  On Fridays, closing is at 5 so it wouldn't have been a problem at all to come home and boil water, throw the bought salad into a bowl and cut up the Jell-O.  I didn't make the cookies but we have plenty of candy so it was going to be ok.
    At 4:50 I got a text.  "You worked.  I ordered pizza. I love you."  Pasta wouldn't have been a problem at all.  Truly.  But it is something so small that makes me want to cry.  It is these little things that say I was thinking about you and I love you and you are important to me.
    Like:
    "Hey, I know we are both tired and brain dead at the end of the day but I know that family dinner is important to you so I when I saw these child oriented conversation starters, I bought them."
    Or:
    "I made a doctors appointment for you on that day you needed it because I knew you were really busy today but wanted to get it done."
   Ok, so he doesn't say it quite that way.  But what really matter is what I hear -
    I love you. 

Thursday, February 6, 2014

More about the library

    I love working at the library.  I have worked for 3 weeks now and have gotten 2 paychecks.  They are not very much but I am excited that I got them.  I feel like I am getting the hang of it.  I know what you are thinking, "What is there to get the hang of?"  Well, computers for one.  A lot of folks come in to use the internet.  We live in a rural county where some folks don't have internet or computers.  We get kids coming in to work on projects. Folks come in to fill out applications or print out forms; usually, they need help to find the forms.  There are always questions about how to do one thing or the other.  A lady came in with her kindle and wanted help downloading a book.  She brought in her cord to use on the computer.
     Her kindle had wireless capability. The book was already on the kindle. 
     Yep.
    At least that was an easy fix.
     We also have a fax machine.  It gets used a lot.
    And there is the checking out of books and DVDs.  Checking in items, shelving, helping folks find books on topics or answering questions about taxes and tutors.
    It is a nice place.  It is quiet.  Generations of conditioning means that everyone is quiet.  And polite.  Well, for the most part.  Rolling your eyes is a quiet sign of sarcasm.  People are friendly and like to chat (with the exception of 2 eye rollers - sorry, I am still new!).  It is a small community so the librarians get to know the regulars.  They like to chat.  And I am new ears.
    One older lady told me that I have a "nice face".  I get my hands patted a lot.  It is nice.
    For me, it acts as pressure release.  I really "get" what my support groups mean when they say that going to work is relaxing.  For me, it is more about the absence of uncertainty.  The questions have answers and if I can't answer them, there is someone else who can.  I don't have any responsibility. No one's health or life is dependent on me.
    It gives me distance too. A chance to think, contemplate, a change of perspective.
   Tonight, I was checking out some books to 2 little girls - I would say about 5 and 8.  One of the books was How to Eat Fried Worms.  I told her that I didn't like the book because it was about worms but I liked how creative the main character got.
    "So you read this book?"
    "Yep, once upon a time, I was your age too."
    Contemplative silence.
    "Wow.  This is a really old book."
    Now, that is perspective.