Change up

Hello all,
I just wanted to let you know that although I love Liberry Tart, I will begin a new endeavor at http://eastvalleygirl.blogspot.com/. So please follow me at this new location!

Accidentally on rePurpose

Spring has sprung and I still had a Christmas item sitting in my kitchen. I'd like to think I'm not the only one and can only hope that someone out there still has some kind of Halloween decoration stuck to their refrigerator just so I can feel better about myself.
Well... no need because I found a purpose for the item! Actually, repurpose is more like it!
A very sweet and dear coworker gave to us num num shortbread cookies and the tin was just too pretty, in a retro kind of way, to toss.


Well, I became the owner of a very nice "I'm sorry for not saying things nicer" flower arrangement from not my hubby but the other cohabiting man in my life. The only problem was the length of the flowers...
I put the two together and voilà! Vase!

Repurposed cookie tin as vase

Just a few words of note... make sure you either caulk (when you say this word, do you over enunciate the 'u' so it doesn't sound dirty like I do?) the inside crevices or make sure you place a secure baggie around the stems with water so a seepage situation does not happen. (I totally thought ahead and did not find a puddle on the kitchen table, threatening to devour my US Weekly.) Plus, you don't want rust to form.

And here is a close up of the tin if you are at all curious. Snowflakes or just nifty retro pattern? I'd kill for wallpaper like this.

Christmas shortbread tin

Patron Faux Pas

From time to time, a patron will make merry with the librarian. Friendships are created and thus means we (librarians) must try ever so hard to remember yet another customer name. This is fine as long as the patron tries to reciprocate the same respect. Below are a few gaffes  from the past few weeks. 


Patron: You drive 22 miles here? Why would you do that?"


Patron: What is your real job?"
Me: I'm sorry, my "real job?" This is my job. (Big smile)
Patron: Oh, you're not a volunteer?


Patron: Are you in college, dear?"
Me: No ma'am. I have my bachelors and masters.
Patron: If you have a masters, why are you working here?
Me: My masters is in Library Science. You need a masters to be a librarian.
Patron: That seems unnecessary.


As I arrive at the desk, a colleague of mine and I exchange pleasantries for a moment before she leaves. A patron approaches.
Me: Hi there. Can I help you?
Patron: Oh, I bet you love working here. I've always wanted to work in a library, being able to just stand and talk to coworkers and look at books.
Me: Oh well, there much more behind the scenes.
Patron: Sure there is.


This next scenario has happened only a few times and I do believe it is a direct result of the affluent neighborhood. This isn't so much rude as just ignorant I suppose.
I am handing out numbers for the storytime that is about to begin.
Patron: Do I get the storytime tickets from you?"
Me: Yes you do. How many children?
Patron: Three. One of mine and the other two are our friends' children.
(I hand him three numbers)
Me: There you go. We will begin shortly.
(Patron tries to hand his American Express to me)
Me: You better not give that to me... I'll use it for lunch! (crickets chirp) The storytimes are free.
Patron: Oh, it is? I hope it's better than what I paid for. (crickets chirp)


I demonstrate how the patron can use our digital downloads to view ebooks on her ereader.
Patron: How many years do you think you have before these put you out of a job?
Me: Well, you're here using our services, so I'm thinking it will be quite a while. (Big smile)


After rounding a corner to check on the tweens who are sitting on the back patio.
Female tween: Oh, I thought I smelled you.


After telling a group of tweens, "You all need to settle down, pick up your trash and park it."
Female tween in mocking voice: You all need to settle down, pick up your trash and park it.
Me: You can leave now and take that mouth of yours with you.


Maybe it's because I'm a servant to the public, but it seems as though a few individuals are treating us a little worse every month. I must admit, I sometimes hand it right back to them. Probably not the best way to handle it, but it sure makes me feel better.

"I think my husband is having an affair"

circa March 2010

Ladies, you may have been there. You wake when your husband comes home really late at night from work for from hanging out with the guys. He quietly opens the bedroom door, tip-toes to the closet and puts away his shoes, belt and other personal affects. You, for some reason, pretend that you are still sleeping just like you would pretend when you were a child. (I think you're parent's knew better, they were just playing along). 

For some reason, you do not feel the shift on the bed from him sitting on the side readying himself for a long night's nap. He reopens the bedroom door, then ever-so quietly closes it again. And then, you hear the distinctive 'click' of his phone.

That most terrible of lightning bolts runs down your center. Your head fills with an uncomfortable warmth and your hands begin to tingle. Who would he be calling at this time of night?

You creep to the now-shut door and press your ear to the white-painted wood wishing you had an empty drinking glass to press your ear to. You're not even sure if it would work, but you'd love to try it now!

Silence.

You figure you are being irrational so you settle yourself back to bed. You close your eyes. You open them fifteen minutes later, yet you are still a single in a double bed. You eventually wander into that realm of awake and sleep. Finally, he returns, sans his portable communication device.

The next night, the exact same scenario presents itself and a frustrating third. But this time, you venture out of the room. You notice that the light under the guest bathroom illuminates three inches of the hall floor. You sneak... you dare not get too close, but you listen and all you hear is the static of silence... and the possible touch of numbers or keypad. You creep back to bed even more confused.

The next morning, you realize you must present your concerns. You want, no, need to know who he is texting that late at night. You do the most healthy thing you can thing of- you rise earlier than he and look at his messages on his phone. Not your proudest moment, but isn't it your right to know? (I know, that's total bs) You click through and find nothing unusual. Damn, he was smart and deleted everything.

Finally, you simply confront him. You must know what is happening... the secrecy, the late nights, the cool sheets...

"Honey, I need to ask you a question."

"Ok."

"Um..."

"Uh oh, what did I do?"

"No, I just... um... who are you texting at night so late in the bathroom?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

"No one... I'm not."

"Why aren't you being honest with me? Unless you're doing something else in there that I don't want to know about..."

"Ew, no! No, nothing like that!"

"Well, then what is it?"

"It's nothing, really." -slight laugh-

"What is it?"

"No, it's noth..."

"Please tell me."

"Angry Birds. I'm playing Angry Birds, that's all!"

-stare-

"What's that?"

"It's a game on my phone that I play... the one I told you about."

"Oh. That's all?"

"Yes!"

-pause-

"Can I play?"

There are many complications since that have been caused by this addictive game, but the "I think my husband is having an affair" is the first and most notable.

Sample Slut

This post men, unlike beer, is not for you.

Hello, my name is 'Berry and I'm a sample slut. I fill numerous forms everyday to receive that rush upon finding a treasure, no matter the size, in my mailbox. I don't usually expect a long term relationship with any product I sample. I get to brag about the number of items I receive in just one week. It's a good time. It's a rush. Free food. Free drinks. You get the picture.

If the product was really good, I may call it up again sometime around 11:30pm when I'm bored. It knows I'm just using it but it wants my attention. It needs my attention. So, we play this game off and on until a product of higher standards catches my eye and I could never look myself in the eyes again if I ever went back.

I know this must end. I promise I will stop. I hit bottom. I hit it hard. It all started with a flashy ad, pretty designs and a re-imaged marketing.

The only time I've heard of Poise was during Jennifer Garner's* movie 13 Going on 30. Poise was the magazine she worked for. Sounds young and sophisticated. So when I saw the free sample of Poise in a really pretty lavender and paisley print, I figured it was a girly time of the month product. Score.

I get my weekly mailbox rush again and I put those tiny little pillows in the back of my drawer just like I put the actions in the back of my mind.

Well, today I was in a hurry and I needed a pillow or a stick or whatever. I reach in the drawer and out pops the cute little package. 

Unwrap. My goodness, you're a big one, aren't you?

Peel. Why does it read 'Front' and 'Avant' with arrows? Do they think I'm stupid or something? Do they think I'd place sticky side up instead? (I don't advise this having been done once in drunken state)

Walk. Does it look like I'm waddling? Because it feels like I'm waddling. 

Check butt in mirror because you always think someone else will spot it. Good god, it feels like I'm wearing a diaper. 

Replay SNL's Oops I Crapped My Pants commercial in my head and laughs out loud. 

Pause. Oh. Oh no.

Internet search for "Poise." Damn it. I am "stupid or something."

Thus I say to you, learn from my reckless actions. Know the products you take home. Practice safe sampling. Save yourself the embarrassment of the walk of shame.

↑ Front

If you're interested in a free sample Poise or would like to learn more about LBL, (light bladder leakage) please visit Poise.

* I know if I met Jennifer Garner, we would totally be best good friends. I mean this in the least stalkerish kind of way.

Snacktastic

Everyone has a favorite snack. It's usually the most unhealthy thing in the cabinets. Possibly because your body craves the fat elements, or maybe its because it was the snack your parents most forbade when you were a child.

My little love affair is with the most orange snack around. There are times when somehow you get that soap-resistent powder on your neck or the small of your back and you are unaware of the events leading to the placement.

At my last library, I was a page and we had our break at about 3:00 PM every day and we were always famished, fighting over the same snacks. At that time, the machine had gone past City eyes, and the vendor asked $.50 for everything. It was a grand place to work. However, you can imagine a few of our reactions when time and time again the orange snack was not available; Just a sad half circle of a large spring sat in its place. I took actions like any decent *coughdorkycough* English major.

Behold the cheesiest poem in the world.

The Love Song of J. Chester Cheetah

Not by T.S. Eliot

Quarter past three and we are unstable,
We place our coins on the break room table;
Could this be but a fable?
Shock and horror express our mood,
Someone has been extremely rude!

Doritos and Fritos adorn the machine
Yet the Cheetos are not to be seen!
Who has taken the last bit of life?
Who would cause this hunger, this strife?

Oh beloved Cheetos, how we love your crunch
On our break we'd munch, munch, munch.
And though you are "dangerously cheesy"
You never made us feel too queasy.

In the machine our only picks
Are Wheat Thins, Sun Chips and of course Twix.
We will miss you until you return
Until then, our tummies will yearn
For the orange snack that makes us smile
And hopefully next time you will stay a while.

I became friends with the vendor after I taped it to the machine and he gave me free Cheetos whenever he saw me! The power of cheese!

What snacks do you absolutely love? What couldn't you go without over a month's time? What would you write a poem for?
(BTW, I sent it to Frito Lay and they sent nothing... I liked the vendor better)

Relaxation Tip

Sometimes you need a drink.

Unfortunately, I'm not supposed to drink anymore. Apparently I'm not a very fun drunk unless I'm the only observer and even that would not sell tickets. (I tend to hop up on things such as bar arcade games, kitchen counters and an occasional stranger's car... ) I digress.

This past weekend tested my ability to handle a situation without prescribed anti-anxiety drugs.

We planned on camping. I really have no desire to be away from a functioning toilet but I thought I would do my wifely duty and support my woodsy Grizzly Adams of a hubby. 

On the way to our campsite, our friends who drove our Jeep were rear-ended, and not in a good way. They were ok, the chips, cookies and Hormel can of chili were not.

At this point, I found myself rooting for the damage to the car to be so extensive that we had to drive back home and maybe camp in our own back yard. Turns out the Jeep is totally drivable.

Because of the damage, we couldn't go to our first campsite option because of the rough terrain and the chance of our bumper flying off and killing a thumper or bambi.

We continued on our way, three hours later and after the insurance guy flirted with me until said Grizzly Adams took the cell away. And guess what? Our second choice campsite was in the middle of a downpour. And then the next site was too wet to set camp.

Suffice it to say, we ended up in my in-law's cabin about another hour and a half away. Warm beds. Running water! A toilet that can't kill you if you fall in it. That, I have to say, was all right by me. However, the whole day shot my nerves. Though the cabinet was packed with booze, I opted for my more natural remedy.

You must buy Crabtree & Evelyn's lavender lotion, about $13 at Ulta or their store and Aura Cacia's lavender oil, about $10 at Walgreens or their store online. The lotion is silky and the oil lasts.

I would use one, the other, or both if you hare having an anxious moment or just need a moment of relaxation. It does however work very well before bed.

Just before you go to sleep, squeeze a pea-sized dab of lavender lotion on your hands. Breathe it in. Four seconds breathing in, four seconds breathing out and repeat. Instantly begins the calming process. 

Once you have applied, take just the tiniest of drops -it's potent- from the lavender oil and (this sounds silly) rub it on the tip of your nose. This allows for the scent to be near and help you calm down and fall asleep. 

Before you know it, your hubby will ask, "what's that smell?" and you'll drift off like you're sleeping under the stars.