In Which I Overuse The Word 'Vegetable'

I have a confession.

I am in possession of an almost unholy love for Ritz Vegetable crackers. I don't know why. I don't know when it started. I don't even know how they get the vegetables in those little crackery discs. I love them so much, I'm willing to take the existence of seven different vegetables in crackers the size of my thumb on faith. This is a serious relationship, people.

They have been my dinner for the past few nights. As I write this, I'm contemplating eating them for lunch today as well. All those vegetables - it has to be healthy, right?


Today in Libraryville:

(Yesterday in Libraryville, actually, since today is my day off. But let's not argue semantics.)

One of my partners-in-crime, let us call her The Hypochondriac, was checking out a little boy and his mother. The rest of us in Circ shamelessly eavesdropped. Why? Because it was slow. Because they were too close not to overhear. Because if we hadn't we would have missed the following conversation.

The Hypochondriac: (Looking at a DVD of The Veggie Tales that she was checking out.) Oh, do you like vegetables? My favorite vegetable is celery. What's your favorite vegetable?

Little Boy: (After a moments pause.) Cheese!

{Note: At this point the rest of us crack up in the back. But continue eavesdropping. Of course.}

TH: (Womanfully manages not to snicker.) So you like cheese?

LB: (In a very skeptical tone.) That's not a vegetable!

{Riotous laughter prevails.}

Ah, yes, there's nothing like watching a library clerk get schooled by a three year old.

The Smell of Emptiness

Take a deep breath - can't you just taste that new blog smell?

I, of course, have no idea how to switch all my previous entries over to this blog, so it's very empty. And there are no guarantees that I will be able to update with great frequency, so it might be empty for a long while. Plus, I don't have a lot of time to sleep, so what I actually do get to publish might not make a great deal of sense.

Um, yea new blog?


Today in Libraryville:

I was alphabatizing our patron cards and marvelling at things grown, rational human beings will name some poor mite who can't put up much of a protest yet. My personal favorite - in a, "what were they thinking, because they clearly planned this out for some unfathomable reason," kind of way - would be the people who named their daughter Liberty. Their last name?

Bell.

I only wish I was making that up.