Book of the day

Doing new books again. Get out the deep woods Off and pull your socks up over your jeans:  The Biology of Ticks by Daniel E. Sonenshine and R. Michael Roe. But what really unnerves me?  It is only volume one.  Lucky you, no cover art available.

Reading Room Revivial

When I went to University in the late 80s the walls of the stalls were filled with commentary and discussions ranging from philosophy, politics, the environment, religion, and in the those ancient days, women's rights.  There were few personal comments, though many dissenting opinions around the original writing.  When I started working at the University in the mid 90s the writings on the walls of the reading room had devolved into verbiage best left to 12 year old bullies.  And then, by the 00s: silence.  Acres of unmarked bathroom walls.  Not the fresh coat of paint to allow new conversations, but silence.  I thought in this ithingy age that the silence would be everlasting.  But recently, and in more than one building on campus, I have found signs of life again.  Encouraging comments, statements and responses about the environment, women's lives.  Is this some Luddite underground emerging?  Is it digital babies finding a place where they can not be 'Snowdon'ed. What ever it is, I am glad of it.  Anonymous conversation with others of my sex, or those becoming my sex, that can be open and untraced.

The only moment better in the reading room of my educational institution was toilet tennis - which saved my sanity one day of great stress in the mid 90s.  I sat down.  My eyes wandered to the wall where one small sentence was written.  "Toliet tennis: look left", which I did.  "Toilet tennis: look right".  Which I did.  And in a moment, back and forth, I was laughing and my stress fled.

blind book date

apparently second floors are allowed

Pink.  All three books were wrapped in pink.  The public library . . . because a university library would never want to have this much fun . . . has mystery books for patrons to sign out.  In honour of the month of love: Blind book dates. All were wrapped in pink paper with a barcode on the outside and a brief description to give you some guidelines as to what was behind the wrapping.  I got three.  It was so delightful to sit after lunch with my hot chocolate on a snowy Saturday and find out what I'd got.  My 'classic, British, good characters, hopeful' turned out to be Great Expectations sporting the most undickensian cover I have ever seen.  I watched the most recent BBC production last month, so I set that aside and opened the next present:  'plans, making, family fun'.  Wahooooo a book by a dad who makes the coolest stuff out of cardboard and marbles and crayons.  Spent some time dreaming along with that.  But then, oh then, I opened the third package:  'small, cozy'.  I spent the next hour picking out my dream house.  It is on page one hundred and one.  I will be putting the kitchen in the area they have off to the right beyond the stairs and keeping the whole of the great room for living and studio space.  It is 885 square feet and is called Sea Grass.  I will also extend the porch on the back so that you can walk all the way around the glassed in area off the living room. Oh, can't you just see it?