Scenes from a hoilday

More.

Once you suffer a blogging lapse, it's so hard to get back into it. There are so many reasons why I've been offline, most of which really aren't that interesting. I will spare you.

Today I'm ready to resume. This seems like the first day since Thanksgiving? May 3rd? that I feel like myself again. What's different? I will itemize below:

• Last night I received the ultimate Hanukah present: 8 hours of continuous sleep for the first time in as many months. One hour for each night of Hanukah? Who knew T. was so symbolic.
• I just survived two grueling weeks at work. Librarians can have grueling weeks too.
• We are also closing in on my self-defined "trial period," the 4 month slot I imagined for the work/baby adjustment. Almost every day has offered a unique kind of torture, but somehow as the end of the period nears, it feels really incredible and totally do-able. Perhaps I will start running marathons next.
• T. seems to have emerged from a couple of weeks of bad sleep and sickness. She is in the throes of separation anxiety, but is revealing more and more of personality. Last night on the train she took her circular rattle, placed it on her head like a crown and started giggling. So damn sweet.
• Rumor has it that Bi-Rite Creamery is opening today.
  

'Tis the season, indeed.

GB.

...PHC, congratulations on your retirement. I'll miss your e-self, but look forward to dating ourselves as we remind the adolescent Teaspoon and Olive that their friendship dates back to age 2 weeks, all because the Olive's mom had one of the raddest blogs in the whole 'sphere.

like the richter scale, but different.

this blog might as well be a daily reading of my desire to quit this job.
on the ten point quitter scale, today rates an 11.

grammar

I deleted my last post because I decided it was just too mean. Some high school kid clearly sent out a bunch of form letters to various colleges, one of which ended up on my desk. Someone needs to tell him: "that kind of letter won't do anything for you, kid, except perhaps score you some brochures, but only if you send it to the admissions office or some other appropriate venue and not a random librarian in the wrong subject area with absolutely no power to wield." I retyped the contents of the letter, posted it, then considered the karmic implications and trashed it. Yet, I can't help myself.

As part of my job, I review all dissertations in my area (yes, you wily graduate students, at least one sleepy librarian reads your work, and if you do place the legendary $20 deep in the middle of the text block, I will find it) and assign official subject headings. Why? It's not clear. It's supposed to help researchers find these suckers in the library catalog, but honestly when was the last time any of you searched a library catalog in the subject field with a phrase like "Geology, Structural--California?" Still, I do this every few months when the newly bound dissertations land on my desk. Before I dive in, the first thing I do is read the acknowledgments because that really sets the tone. I'm usually teary by the end, except for this time, because although Mr. PhD chose a lovely literary title for his tome, he misspelled "acknowledgments" and included this phrase:

"the quality people that with which you have the opportunity and privilege to work with..."

I don't know what to do with that. How can I assign thoughtful subject headings with such a line for inspiration?

So some unsolicited advice for my dissertating friends and family: spend a little bit of time on the acknowledgments. Make it sweet, maybe a little more poetic than the dictates of your discipline might allow in the formal work; omit references to drinking, parties, kegs, and other diversions that got you through the experience; and thank the library. We like that.