Another week in pursuit of happiness…
I finally sank my teeth into Season Five of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and relished Eurotrash Dracula, mysterious kid sister, Xander doppelganger, Spike backstory…with the Buff gymnastical ass-kicking a steady thrill.
I cast off self-defeating excuses (”I can’t afford a day off work, or the registration fee”; “I won’t know anybody there, and I’m a poser!”) and forged ahead through my first professional conference for library and information science—OLA in Salem. It was a fabulous experience!
- Allyson Carlysle’s presentation on the future of cataloging, a major motivator for attending the conference on Friday, was fascinating in an over-my-head-but-totally-validating-to-sit-in-a-room-full-of-people-who-embrace-minutiae sort of way. Now, in addition to her reading list, I have a stack of acronyms to study and the impetus to synthesize my vagabondage in the world of cataloging. Long live metadata!
- I dug the tag team presentation on manga collecting and cataloging, even if it, too, was mostly over my head. Chibi Vampire, here I come!
- The exhibits hall jump-started my orientation to MedlinePlus, a nifty source of authoritative health information from the National Library of Medicine and National Institutes of Health. Next week I’ll begin a volunteer project to help enhance the Go Local listings for Benton County, Oregon.
- I also cornered reps from Emporia State and the University of Washington for the prospective student inquisition. Conversation at the UW booth revealed that my application had been accepted, which sent me floating about the conference center all afternoon in a happy daze.
- Lunch was an exercise in immersion therapy—the horror of entering a party alone! I succeeded probably thanks to adrenaline from the well-timed UW news. I approached a friendly-looking guybrarian sitting solo and made conversation about library school and librarianship in the Portland area. The food was yummy, the cost was included in the registration fee, and I didn’t spill any on myself. w00t!
And on a gorgeous spring Sunday I cooked a vat of carrot soup and delivered a meal on two wheels to a new mum. My foray into the gluten-free diet proved more interesting than daunting. And, omg, isn’t a blooming magnolia tree the bomb?
Tricksey, my precious! Sneaking this post in under the radar – I read the later sheepherding one and missed this announcement entirely. You da bomb, libe babe. Congrats. BTW, send me your teen vamp read list – I’m hooked. It’s such a devious way to create sexual tension. On screen, at least. The language of the writing is just, oh my god, so totally, well, perfect and white and gorgeous – gag. Kristen Stewart grows Bella up intellectually into an interesting person.
Here’s to sick days and vamp love and grad school!
I originally wrote a reply to this from Indianapolis near the time it first was published. I was in Indy during the aftermath of Mom’s death. For some reason I looked something up while typing my response and erased the whole thing. I was so tired and depressed that I didn’t rewrite it. I’ve had a link to this piece in my inbox for more than a year to remind me to respond.
The part I wanted to reply to is the last line about the incomparable beauty of a blooming magnolia tree.
When Mom was in Intensive Care in 2008, I was in Indy for most of a month. I arrived when the first crocus were blooming and stayed through the entire cycle of Spring flowers. One of my greatest joys was soaking in the huge, gorgeous magnolia trees that lined the route from my childhood home to the hospital. Where I live in Ohio is a more recently established area and we have almost no magnolia trees. Neighborhoods can be dated by their plantings. Where I grew up, magnolias line Kessler Boulevard, Fall Creek Parkway, and Meridian Street. These magnificent giants with their delicate pink and white star blooms braced me for the day as I drove from home to hospital each morning.
The same thing happened in the Spring of 2009 when I helped Dad with his financial affairs in the wake of Mom’s death. At Mom’s internment, only the earliest Scylia and Crocus were in bloom. A few days later, the daffodils had appeared by the time of Mom’s Memorial Service. In the weeks that Dad and I were driving around taking care of innumerable business details, the pink and white clouds of magnolia petals provided comfort once again.
Our yard is like the Russian steppes ~ too open and exposed and windblown to grow a magnolia tree. Magnolia want to be sheltered in a protected environment. Every time I see one now, I think of Mom and the Springs of 2008 and 2009.
OMG, indeed!!!