24 - my way

I ordered an item from Amazon and forgot to check the shipping address. So the item sat around at the wrong address for five days while we fumed and fussed and wondered where it was.

I wanted to use a particular flannel board set for a storytime, but the set was not in the file, and I have not been able to find it.

Two patrons asked me for 1040 tax forms - but the government hasn't sent them yet, so I had to charge these people for copies I printed for them from the website.

I had to deliver Monday newspapers on Wednesday to two customers because we failed to leave papers at those addresses on Monday.

A group of pubescent boys ran around the library shrieking and hallooing and when I told them to settle down, they mocked me. They did not settle down.

We opened up a jar of newly purchased jam to find mold on the top.

I drove my van into the snow in my driveway and it stuck. I had to walk to work in the cold and I was late.

The Obama Gap

I don't know if this is a generational gap, a cultural gap, or a regional gap, but each of my parents has their own unique take on Barack Obama.

My father, a white, 90 year old career Marine, veteran of 3 wars, born and raised in Jacksonville Florida, and a lifelong Democrat could not bring himself to vote for Obama. "Look at all those countries in Africa," he pointed out, "What chaos, what a mess. Blacks can't govern."

Since the election, my father has said, "So, all the Blacks are happy about Obama being elected. I hope they remember that he is also half-white."

I don't discuss politics with my father anymore. I mean, what do you say? How can you respond (politely and respectfully to one's father) to those two ideas?


My mother, a white, 80 year old career woman, raised in abject poverty, the daughter of a sharecropper in Depression era East Texas, and a life long Democrat watched the inaugural balls with interest. "Did you see Mrs. Obama's dress?" she asked me. "It wasn't pretty. Plain old white thing. She's a beautiful woman, she should have lots of sequins and sparkles. And did you see them dance? They can't dance. But maybe they dance differently in Africa."

I covered the phone so I could laugh.

How cold is it?

It is so cold in Iowa today that when we scoop up the poop freshly deposited by our dog, we cradle the bag full of steaming dog poop in our hands to warm them up.

sinking into the hole of my own errors....

I have that nagging feeling again, what my daughter, Mary, calls "vuja de" : the sense that one is doing it wrong all over again.

Ditto for January 7.