Well, it's official. My car is a resident.

Because my Nebrasky plates expire at the end of the month, I picked up an Alabama plate a few days ago. Mine says "Stars fell on GO PILOTS" because of the UP license plate frame. That's "plate" singular because they only require one on the rear of your car. I suppose that means you can flee the scene in reverse and no one will be the wiser. I fixed a Red Sox plastic plate on the front, further identifying myself as what passes for a Yankee down here in the best possible sense of the word, as far as I'm concerned, and not a NY Yankee fan by any means.

Even though I've had it just over a year (see April Fool's Day fate of my last car), this car has collected many identifying markers. A Han Solo doll (this is too big to be an action figure) sits on the sill behind the back seat, stunner in hand. (Once, at a stop light, I looked into my rear view mirror and saw a woman with a camera. She snapped a few shots of Han and ran back to her car.) There are college decals for University of Portland and Simmons. On one side, a FOUND magazine sticker graces the bumper, next to a white Mac apple. The other end of the back bumper says ROGUE NATION: DARE * RISK * DREAM. Rogue Brewery sent it to me, and though I felt awfully frat-house-ish putting it on my car, it has no direct reference to beer and it is my favorite and it's Oregonian so I put it on.

So my car is a resident but I still am not, clinging to my still valid Nebraska driver's license and Massachusetts liquor ID. On the occasions I do get carded, I have two identities to choose from: Sarah the easygoing Midwesterner or Sarah the cosmopolitan EastCoaster. Susie will be the first to tell you I am neither easygoing nor cosmopolitan, but it is nice to pretend.

Once my birth certificate gets back from getting me my passport, I'll have to surrender my Nebraskan license and exchange it for an Alabaman one. Le sigh.

I was waylaid by this card yesterday. You can't quite see it, but the image on the front is a church in Donegal, Ireland. I bought the card (and several others) at MassArt's spring art sale a few years ago and sent them to my mom for Mother's Day. She wrote in this one and sent it back to me.

The handwriting caught my eye -- just a passing glance while searching for nonexistent shelf space -- and I had to sit down and cry for a while.

The photo in the picture is from my college graduation in May of 1999. It makes me wonder what I would have done differently, had I known what was coming in 2006.

I promise to explain my grad school application hell soon -- and it just keeps getting better, you know? Like I found out that faxed recommendation forms are acceptable, though not "preferred" by the department. Will the Express/Overnight envelopes make my application more attractive? Or just make my bank account smaller?

Right now I'm letting my brain turn off for a while; I'm finishing my Statement of Purpose tonight (and I will, sleep be damned) and am taking a break before a last review/edit. If this final look is deemed Of Merit, then I shall submit my Purpose, via the wonders of the Internet.

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Today's Incredibly Stupid Question is courtesy of a ditzy high school student.

Ditzy HS Student (tilting head, pulling hair): Hi, umm, do you have, I think it's called, like, 1985?

Me (frowning): You mean 1984? By George Orwell?

Ditzy HS Student: I don't know...maybe?

Me: I think that's it. Look under Orwell, in fiction.

Ditzy HS Student: Okay!

Wondrously, she found the book all by herself, meaning she knows her alphabet, knows that books in a bookstore are arranged by the author's last name (more than I can say for some people) and should be able to read most of the words in Orwell's dystopia (you think maybe she's just not good with numbers?). Good for her!

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Hard habit to break: Seeing books I think my mom would like, and not being able to recommend or give them to her. I've given a few shelffulls to her over the years; now they sit unread, except for a couple I rescued and brought here. I've given my mom books for years.

She was really into Maine writer Elisabeth Ogilvie when I lived in Boston. Some of her books were available through the local libraries, but my mom couldn't buy them anywhere in Oregon except for the occasional copy that showed up at Powell's; Ogilvie's books are published by small press Down East Books of Maine. (My parents weren't (and my dad still isn't) into internet purchases.) Over my two years in New England, I tracked down every Ogilvie book (a whole bunch coming from Sherman's Books and Stationery in Freeport) I could and sent it home to my mom. They stand in a lovely, matching row on the bookcase in the living room in Oregon.

This feeling extends to recipes I want to share, gifts I want to give. Susie and I had a habit of finding unique or artsy or artsily unique tea sets for her. Those, also, in the living room, in Oregon, a shelf or two away from the Ogilvie books. This year I was going to wrap up a big glass margarita pitcher with four matching glasses for Mother's Day or her birthday. She only had a couple of plastic cactus glasses she got cheap somewhere. I always berated her about them: "Mom, if you are going to drink, do it in style, not in plastic!" She always replied that they worked fine.

Maybe I'll get myself the glass pitcher and glasses instead.

I've not been here due to a combo of computer issues and grad school application FUN. It's a long story, but YES! I am applying to grad school, again, this time for a MLIS.

For now, here are some entertaining glimpses of my working life:

High school girl: Do you have translated Shakespeare?
Me: Ummm. What???
(Turns out she wanted one of the editions that has the original English with a line-for-line modernized text.)

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A man in his 30s who kept his unused sunglasses tucked into back part of his collar, behind his head.

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Southern Accented 12-year old boy (loudly): Do you have Redwall by Brian Jockqwayses?! (Jacques) (I admit, I knew what they wanted but asked them to repeat it.)
Me: Who?
Boy's dad (slowly): The author is Br-aye-yan Jock-qway-ses!
Me: We do, but I think you pronounce his name "Jakes." ***
Boy's dad: Oh.

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Man: Do you have that Cuhpohtay book?
Me: The one the movie is based on? Yes.
Man: Huh.
Me: And I think his name is "Capotee."
Man: Alright then, thanks, hun.

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And a guy called me awesome for finding the computer book we had for him. He even pumped his arm in the air.

***True! See here, for an amusing and informative article by Jon Scieszka. This site has LOTS more, but is not amusing.

My computer is unhappy so I won't be posting regularly for a while.

The biggest snake I've ever seen in the wild just swam across the pond in front of the house. The whole pond. I took a peek out the window to see what birds were out there; the quickest way to find the swimming birds is to look for the wake. I saw one, but there was no bird at the head of it and it was continuous -- not just a fish popping up for insects.

Through binoculars I saw an undulating length flashing in the sun and realized it was a snake. One big-ass snake, too; I went on the porch to follow it (still with binoculars) and watched it skim through a shallow, marshy area, revealing a body thicker than my ankle and maybe four feet long? Five? It was huge! Then it got closer to the shore and out of my line of sight.

I would have (carefully) crossed the street to get a closer look, but there's a house being built right next to the pond and lots of manly men wielding hammers and things. I didn't want to be their lunchtime entertainment.

I'm trying to figure out what kind it was.

ETA:
Snakes in Alabama narrows the competition to:
+ Midland Water Snake?
+ Brown Water Snake, which is often mistaken for the poisonous Cottonmouth/Water Moccasin? (scroll to the third image...hmm)

My money is on the water moccasin; the snake I saw swam with its body above the water, not underneath with just the nose showing. Yikes.

Um, do you notice anything about the literary journal (courtesy of Meera) and the painting (courtesy of former student Maria) it is up against? Look closely.

Anything at all?

You know, I've had it there for months now and just tonight noticed they MATCH.

News Flash: SOUTHERN SUN MELTS SARAH'S BRAIN.

Passport application submitted. Soon I can legally leave the country!

Silly Walks Generator

Hee hee.

here's what my hair looks like now. Or did, a few weeks ago. Susie said highlights make me look less mean, which is a good thing, I spose. The stylist who cut and colored my hair, Karla at Flip, (she is the owner -- it's a one-chair place and totally awesome) said my eyes and hair didn't match, that my eyes were too light/hair too dark. That was odd, but I like what she did!

Note parental knick-knacks in the background.

A phone called woke me up this morning. It was a woman from the Personnel Office who very politely explained the reason I did not qualify for the Library Assistant I position. One needs six months of experience as a page or equivalent experience. That's six months FULL TIME, forty hours a week; my eight months at the library in Nebraska averaged 20-22 hours a week.

"I calculated it out and you are short of the six month requirement," she said. "They're very strict about that."

I tried to go back to sleep, but all I could do was think of parts of my life that should make up that extra time. How about four years doing research and writing papers in the library as an undergrad, and then the year and a half as a grad student? How about the five valid library cards I own and use around the country as I travel? How about the embarrassing number of months I've spent at GIANT CORPORATE BOOKSTORE, shifting and shelving and alphabetizing?

Come on! I was ABOVE a page! I could boss pages around! For eight months!

That all counts for nothing.

This is a major problem with city/county employment, at least in a larger system where common sense is not allowed to overcome stated guidelines. Cutting off your nose to spite your face and all that. I know, I KNOW, I can be a wonderful Library Assistant I. All I need is five minutes with an interview panel. All I need is someone to call the library director back in Nebraska and ask if I have the ability to do all the tasks of a Library Assistant I. This isn't rocket science, you don't need a degree -- a GED or high school diploma is it. I have lots of book-related education!

So different than the Gretna library, where I applied, was called, interviewed by the board, called back that night with an offer and then started work the next day. A few weeks later, I drove down to City Hall to be confirmed by the Council, shook hands with the mayor and everything was marvellous.

I'm back on Netflix -- anyone have some good DVD recommendations? I put 'Allo 'Allo! on, Meera! And a bunch of Julia Child. Neil Gaiman's Mirrormask should arrive today....ooh yeah.

Everyone please shake your first at Montgomery Personnel for me, okay? Also, say, "Fie! Fie, Montgomery!"
Thanks.

I've been admiring these new Penguins at work. French flaps on the covers, quality paper inside, nice heft. I really need some Dorothy Parker in my life.

Spoke to the Personnel Dept. today about my qualifications, for all of three minutes. The secretary took a message and someone is supposed to call me. Not encouraging, but a first step.

Time to learn some French.

2006 Required Reading
The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov
"Aurora Leigh" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
As I Lay Dying by Faulkner
The Death of Ivan Ilych and Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys
Woman on the Edge of Time by Marge Piercy
Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe
Dubliners by Mr. Joyce
All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque
The Golden Notebook by Doris Lessing

This morning I finished reading Woman on the Edge of Time by Marge Piercy. It's generally considered Literature, but I'd classify the book as speculative fiction. One could make an argument for science fiction (utopia/dystopia) or psychological as well, depending on which side you fall on at the end. It was gooood.

It is 1976. Consuela Ramos is stuck in the NY mental hospital system because the doctors think she's violent and unstable when really she's poor and without options. She KOs her niece's pimp with a broken bottle (he was trying to beat them) and is again in a locked ward, plenty of numbing Thorazine flowing through her veins (she'd been in previously after the death of her husband; grief led her to break her daughter's wrist).

Anyway, a person from the year 2137 starts contacting Connie and bringing Connie's consciousness to the future. The story alternates between life in the hospital and the future, kind of an environmental, agricultural mecca of hippie-ish people. But there are bad guys, the over-teched, mind-controlling corporate behemoths. They are not the focus of the story; it is not a hard s/f, lasers and tasers type of book.

Are these future visits really happening or is Connie indeed schizophrenic, as her doctors say? These are the same doctors who want to put needles in her brain to "fix" and control her.

It was a very good read, though I stalled about halfway through -- it's an angry sort of book, and as a reader, you share Connie's frustration. The last third was the best, the ending not fully resolved, which I like, now and then

For me, Woman on the Edge of Time is about power; who has it and who doesn't. What about trust and power? The only people Connie can trust are the powerless.

Thank you, Susie, for suggesting it! Next up, The Master and Margarita.

ETA: This cover is tres stupide. I went with the classic version, though I really like the design of the Brit edition.

It's been a while since I just posted a link, (and I'm sure this is old news to some of you) but the OCLC Top 1000 is rather interesting.

Nice to know that there are more copies of The Secret Garden out there than Ulysses.

Also: books from the Top 1000 list that have also been banned.

...and summer has arrived in Alabama.

Temps in the mid-80s and the humidity is just beginning to set in.

On the good side, my plants are very happy little creatures.