Professor Booty

I went to an estate sale yesterday where an old pianist who went from luxury to squalor had died. Included in her estate were three (three!) gold Rolexes, two grand pianos, a pair of carved ivory tusks, African spears, and about two thousand books. The old Victorian where she died had saggy floors, none of the cabinets had knobs, and I could not for the life of me find a bathroom. There was a freestanding bathtub with no pipes connected to it...in a bedroom. ???
When I die, I hope I leave behind such mystery.

I'm going back this morning to see if I can pick up some tiny Tibetan bells. Anyway, I want to dedicate this blog column today to the wonders of public services. Yesterday, Jeff and I took the girls in the stroller down to the Napa library, where they made a mess of the extensive children's section (and where I discovered I had almost $40 in fines--woops! forgot the wallet), and an old grandpa sat like a king next to a sign saying "I will read to you." After the girls exhausted us, we took them to lunch, then to Fuller Park, where they exhausted themselves in the sand. Minus the food, the entire day cost us exactly $0. We got our exercise and vitamin D. Days like this remind me that I am a dyed-in-the-wool Democrat.

And then, Jessica came over with her dog, Pixie.

I'm on the hiring committee for our new library dean, and the candidate who interviewed the other day made an interesting comment. He said that if libraries had to completely start over today, they wouldn't be able to recreate their current paper collections...the money isn't there, and many of the books are out of print forever. The trend of moving collections online is a one-way street, it seems. When books are discarded, they won't be coming back.

Well, they will go straight to my house. I'm going to have the biggest used-book library in Northern California. Besides the obvious intellectual benefit, books are also great home insulation.

Speaking of useless endeavors, I'm going to be published in Writing on the Edge, a cool journal out of UC Davis. Picture me exhaling in relief, as I needed another pub for tenure.

And I'm going back to therapy. In spite of my assigned shrink canceling on my first appt., and then not having any openings when I tried to reschedule, I will persist/prevail/be prescribed. It is time.

Well, I'm off to Miss Havisham's. I'll let you know about the booty.