Pour me another glass of champagne

I occasionally mention the library where I am Lead Circulation Clerk (not a librarian). This means that I do lots of day to day organizational things and manage the work load to make sure everything gets done. I also get the joy of being the go-to person when a patron calls for "Someone Else Who Can Help Me." Some days there are very few problems- I mean really how many complaints can there be in a place that gives you stuff for free??? Well, there are also a few rules to deal with at the library, as we all know, so that's when we usually have Situations. And today was one of those crazy days (several times) but the most outrageous disagreement came when a woman came to return some books she had put on "Claimed Returns" (like it sounds, this means she told us at some point in the past that she had already returned them and that we had made a mistake by not checking them in).

She walked up to the desk (see picture below- that's not her in the purple dress) with her books and gave them to the circulation clerk. She said that she had returned them and they had been found on our shelves so she shouldn't have to pay the fines. Meredith (aforementioned clerk) did not believer her (checks the woman's card) and said that they could not have been found on the book shelves as we had done several searches. On it goes until the conversation becomes heated enough that the woman asks for "Someone Else..." So Meredith came to find me outside (I was on break).

She explained the situation and I walked in prepared to be firm as I knew that we had looked diligently for the items (I had looked personally and remembered the search) "Sorry you have to pay the fines on books you return this late, we did a search here and did not find them," preparing my speech.

So... I'm firm, "Sorry ma'am but we did look for your items and they were not here so..."

 "You don't understand," the woman said wiping her eyes, tear-stained, obviously angry, "I was out of the country. My daughter returned the books. She brought them in and put them on the shelf. They were here."  Incredulous might be too tame a word for the moment. There's a little bell ringing in my ear as the words work their way around to the processing part of my brain, "Her daughter walked in and put them on a shelf in a library with 70,000 other books. Just randomly. And she thinks that is returning them." It made the lap about 3 times before I said, "but the books are here." (Aha! caught her, she's just making this up!) "Yes, I told her to come to the library last week and find them. Then I would bring them back to show you." 


*deep breath* "Uh-huh. Well, I am sorry but you have to return them in a book drop or at this desk. We have one outside, one over there and you could also hand them to the people here or that one. But you can't expect us to be responsible for items that are just returned and put on the shelf. You are responsible for them until they are returned and they were not returned in the proper way. But the good news is, you are not paying for the books, you are only paying the late fines."


"It was too much," still adamant. "I could buy these books." 

Three study books for nursing school, with CDs. "Nope, I'm sorry but these books would cost much more than $10 each. You can pay $10 a month or even $5 dollars but the fines are going to have to be paid."  

"They were here, safe and sound." Yup safe and sound but lost- proverbial needles in a haystack.

"I'm sorry." It's all I could say.

homage to the moon

She raises her hands slowly upward in silent homage to the Empress of the night. The ocean’s sigh echoes on my palm, fingers tingling in remembered suspension, I only just stop myself from joining her melody stereophonically. “Ka—losor—isma-a-a-a, ka—losor—isma-a-a-a selene mana” the ancient words “welcome, welcome, moon mother” vibrate, an otherworldly iteration as familiar as a child’s lullaby. I ex-inhale shallow breaths of anticipation. There is a lifetime of silence before the faint antiphony winds it’s way through the branches seconds later  “ka—losor—isma-a-a-a, ka—losor—isma-a-a-a selene mana” An earthbound star flitters in the distance, a lone celestial infant making it’s way through the trees. Splintering molecules, one becomes two becomes four until a dozen tiny lights glimmer in the darkness, winding their way towards the girl as she chants out her greeting again.

“Luna reflects our own life cycles

 affects menstruation and ovulation

She is a symbol of life,

of choices,

of change

Some would purge her from the collective consciousness
would reject the cyclical nature
of life
of emotion
of her phases
They would like to think of her merely as rock to walk on
distant soil to explore

We reclaim you, Moon Mother

from the tyranny of the sterile

We honor you tonight, Ancient One

for connecting us to our deepest selves

and we welcome the life you symbolize for us.” 

(Not getting much done, other than preparations for Christmas, work and getting my son back and forth to basketball practice/games. I would have written something new to post, (this is from Death and Politics) but I find that what energy I have for writing -and it's not much-, I want to put into my WIP so I thought I would share a bit of it.) 

And so it begins...

Yesterday was the first day of the official shopping season for Christmas: Black Friday for those of you who aren't versed in American lingo. We avoid the sale shopping frenetics and spend the day perusing ornaments. Over hill and dale, we shop for the perfect bobble, until we are blurred from from fatigue, we return home with trinkets for our tree. 

 The Grinch would grimace at all of the sparkles and glitter there is to behold (as would Conchscooter), 

but the initiation of Christmas cheer and good will is one we never pass up.  

It is tempting to view the season as a glutton of solipsism or one that threatens to put us in a financial crunch because our obligation to give is focused on the shiniest, newest as opposed to meaningful. But if that's all it has become, then it is one that should be cast off immediately.   

 Gift giving should be the search to find the best gift for the person to whom one is giving and one that will make their heart light -not the gift that will impress them the most. And no mistake it is no small task to give a gift that is meaningful without bankrupting oneself. 

Yet the toil is light when viewed from one's memory and one recalls the eyes lit up, the lips in a broad smile as the gift is lifted from the box and into the arms of the one it was purchased it for.  

Truly, the right spirit of Christmas, as the Grinch came to learn, is about giving and sharing and thought for all we come into contact with. 

So each year, we celebrate the first day by finding the perfect ornament to commemorate the day. The one that will remind us of the good will we experience during the season and the one which we hope will continue on throughout the New Year. 

What traditions do you have that keep the true spirit of Christmas? 

lifetime of memories

November
So full of milestones
my birthday (today)
my son's birthday ( my youngest- turned fourteen on the 8th- OMG!)
Freedom Day (the day my divorce was finalized- the 3rd). 
I missed Freedom Day this year with all the craziness
that tailspins me around from one thing to another.
My son's birthday was awhirl with life stuff (fourteen-year-olds will do some dumb stuff.)
And my birthday sandwiched between two days of work
Nevertheless
November is a lodestone
of the past
Mimosas and cheesecake,
    favorite foods
Walking out of the courthouse,
    dance-down-the-street happiness that it was finally finished
Son sleeping in my arms
    trashcan close by to catch any upheavals
    while friends eat cake and laugh in hilarity
Being dressed like a doll (I hate shopping!)
    a fourth decade dragging me down,
    reminding me of opportunities dried up and carried off the wind
Bearing down, pushing,
     finding life altered once more with a bleated cry
Pecan pie eaten in a dorm room
Snowplowing my way home
     a surprise blizzard gifting me with the day off (DPS hadn't cancelled school in 20 years!)
A slammed door as whispered conspiracies shut me out
   exclusion burying the giggly companionship
Watching for a package laden postman (Mrs. Beasley in a box)
     anxious nose pressed against the glass
Many more
Memories
carried in the leaf blown arms of
November