I would like to offer kudos to the US Postal Service for its beautiful salute to female anatomy. Oh, they can call it tropical fruit if they'd like. And if it was just the breast-ish kiwi, or the papaya that looks a bit uterine, I could maybe roll with that. And I'll grant that the star fruit just looks floral, and the only womanly link I can think of for the pomegranate is that it looks like it is infested with ladybugs. (Get it? 'Lady' bugs? Ha ha? No? Well, you can't say I didn't try.)
But that guava? I swear that when I saw it on a postcard in the mail, my first thought was "Why is my dentist sending me vaginas*?" (My second thought, in case you're wondering, was "It has to be too soon for another cleaning," but it totally isn't. Yuck.) (I meant my teeth. A cleaning of my teeth, not... never mind.)
*On later reflection, I realized that, technically speaking, it looks like a vulva, but I'm trying to keep the authenticity of the moment.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Settling in
I have my first program for school-age children at my new-ish job tomorrow, and I've gotta tell you, I'm nervous. I have been working at the library in Jobville (conveniently located in the general vicinity of CollegeTown) for nearly two months, and I was starting to feel like a slacker for not offering any programs for the school-age crowd. But Story Time is a gaping maw that must be fed before all others. When Story Time sessions are delayed by a week because Miss Rachel is new, dammit, and doesn't even know where they keep the shaker eggs, the Story Time moms and grandmas howl. Once you have awoken the Story Time Beast, the children will show up four times a week whether you're prepared for them or not, and they will be left in the room with you, and woe be to the children's librarian who does not have an enticing fingerplay to lead them through.
Oh, and at this library, the Story Time Beast has a sidekick, and it is the Craft Monster. The Craft Monster is present at EVERY Story Time. I had escaped the Craft Monster at all three of my previous children's services positions, but the Craft Monster is wily and doesn't show itself until you have officially accepted a position. The guiding of 10-15 preschoolers through the completion of the craft isn't the hard part, it's finding a series of crafts that fit in with the weeks' themes, aren't too hard to be done without constant assistance, can be completed in 10-15 minutes, and don't require too much prep work on my part. The Craft Monster consumes a lot of glue sticks.
Now that I've got the Story Time Beast and the Craft Monster pretty much under control, however, I've turned my attention to the school-age kids. They are easier to ignore and harder to please. For my first go-round here, I figured I'd go with something I had done before, and planned a Magic Tree House Party. That's a series of books about a brother and sister who travel through time via a magical tree house owned by Morgan Le Fay. (Yes, from Camelot. No, I don't understand it either.) It is quite popular, and has been for years. The program, which is tomorrow, filled up last week, so I added a second session which will happen next week. I got an email tonight telling me that that session is full now. I don't even know what to say about that.
I've got a number of irrational fears that I'll enumerate for your viewing pleasure:
1.) The children who come to the first one will be so bored that they will tell all the children signed up for the second one not to come.
2.) None of the children will come.
3.) Only two of the children will come, and they will stare at each other and blink and not want to do anything.
4.) Most of the children will come, but they won't want to throw paper towel rolls through a hula hoop that is dangling from the ceiling (it's a javelin throw because once Jack and Annie went to the Olympics in ancient Greece), nor will they want to make a toilet paper roll mummy (they also went to ancient Egypt once).
5.) All of the children will show up plus they'll bring friends, and when I explain that registration was required and that I don't have enough toilet paper rolls for them, they will get angry and rebel, and then tell everyone at school that I have a weird obsession with cardboard tubes.
6.) I will forget to buy snacks.
I don't know why I'm nervous. I've done this type of thing many times before. I think it's partly that I am the one and only children's librarian in a small town with a teeny library. If the children decide they don't like me, they may never come back. Also, I get the feeling that they don't usually get this kind of turn-out for this kind of program. Oh, and the person who had this job before me only worked five hours a week, and I worry that I'm not doing four times as much work as she did, and that my boss and co-workers are secretly judging me, and if this program fails, it will confirm what they've been thinking all along. It's totally paranoid (or at least I hope it is), but I think it all boils down to one thing: I really, really like this job, and I don't want to screw it up. So here's hoping the kids like playing with toilet paper as much as I do.
Oh, and at this library, the Story Time Beast has a sidekick, and it is the Craft Monster. The Craft Monster is present at EVERY Story Time. I had escaped the Craft Monster at all three of my previous children's services positions, but the Craft Monster is wily and doesn't show itself until you have officially accepted a position. The guiding of 10-15 preschoolers through the completion of the craft isn't the hard part, it's finding a series of crafts that fit in with the weeks' themes, aren't too hard to be done without constant assistance, can be completed in 10-15 minutes, and don't require too much prep work on my part. The Craft Monster consumes a lot of glue sticks.
Now that I've got the Story Time Beast and the Craft Monster pretty much under control, however, I've turned my attention to the school-age kids. They are easier to ignore and harder to please. For my first go-round here, I figured I'd go with something I had done before, and planned a Magic Tree House Party. That's a series of books about a brother and sister who travel through time via a magical tree house owned by Morgan Le Fay. (Yes, from Camelot. No, I don't understand it either.) It is quite popular, and has been for years. The program, which is tomorrow, filled up last week, so I added a second session which will happen next week. I got an email tonight telling me that that session is full now. I don't even know what to say about that.
I've got a number of irrational fears that I'll enumerate for your viewing pleasure:
1.) The children who come to the first one will be so bored that they will tell all the children signed up for the second one not to come.
2.) None of the children will come.
3.) Only two of the children will come, and they will stare at each other and blink and not want to do anything.
4.) Most of the children will come, but they won't want to throw paper towel rolls through a hula hoop that is dangling from the ceiling (it's a javelin throw because once Jack and Annie went to the Olympics in ancient Greece), nor will they want to make a toilet paper roll mummy (they also went to ancient Egypt once).
5.) All of the children will show up plus they'll bring friends, and when I explain that registration was required and that I don't have enough toilet paper rolls for them, they will get angry and rebel, and then tell everyone at school that I have a weird obsession with cardboard tubes.
6.) I will forget to buy snacks.
I don't know why I'm nervous. I've done this type of thing many times before. I think it's partly that I am the one and only children's librarian in a small town with a teeny library. If the children decide they don't like me, they may never come back. Also, I get the feeling that they don't usually get this kind of turn-out for this kind of program. Oh, and the person who had this job before me only worked five hours a week, and I worry that I'm not doing four times as much work as she did, and that my boss and co-workers are secretly judging me, and if this program fails, it will confirm what they've been thinking all along. It's totally paranoid (or at least I hope it is), but I think it all boils down to one thing: I really, really like this job, and I don't want to screw it up. So here's hoping the kids like playing with toilet paper as much as I do.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Babies and Obama!
Substantive posts? Bah, that's for "bloggers" with "something to say". Or people with cameras that "function" so they can take pictures of the beautiful shopping bag they knit in just one week. (That is a record for me. My previous record for finished knitted object was something like three months, so it's worth mentioning.)
Instead of substance, I bring you: Obama holding babies! If you won't vote for him because McCain is teetering on the edge of death and/or totally losing his shit, or because Sarah Palin is almost as informed about the pertinent issues as my dog is, or even just because it is the other side's turn to be filled with rage while listening to our nation's leader, then vote for him because he looks hot holding a baby. Please?
Instead of substance, I bring you: Obama holding babies! If you won't vote for him because McCain is teetering on the edge of death and/or totally losing his shit, or because Sarah Palin is almost as informed about the pertinent issues as my dog is, or even just because it is the other side's turn to be filled with rage while listening to our nation's leader, then vote for him because he looks hot holding a baby. Please?
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