Library card interrogation

My daughter took a book out of the library a few weeks back called Beverly Billingsly Borrows a Book. At first it did not get much attention but now it ends up throwing us both into a fit of giggles. It is all about a little girl who gets a library card and then ends up having an overdue book (ghast!!!) and her concerns about having to pay lots of money and/or serving jail time cause her to put off returning the book even longer. It is great because my daughter really gets worked up about getting in trouble and we've certainly had our share of overdue books.

The funny part though is when she applies for a library card she gets asked questions before she is approved by the librarian. The writer doesn't elaborate on which questions the little girl gets asked but that has given us plenty of room for imagination and we've thought up a list of potential questions. We really get going.

1. Do you plan on composting this book?

2. Will you scribble in library books?

3.Will you give library books to your friend for her birthday?

4. Will you read library books with sticky fingers?

5. Will you be eating pizza while reading your books?

6. Will you be reading these books in the bathtub?

7.Will you eat your books?

Which books spur you on to freestyle? What are the results?

Comments

A Small Craft

I accompanied my mother-in-law to an appointment this week. On the paper, preparing her for the appointment, it invited her bring along something to read or a small craft. As soon as I heard about this invitation to bring a small craft into an otherwise austere waiting area, my mind started to do bouncing somersaults in many different directions. Googly eyes? Glue gun? Feathers? Play clay? Friendship braclets?

The words coming out of my mouth

These days I wear a mask. I don't wear a mask all of the time, only when I am indoors or unavoidably up close with people who I don't usually interact with. I wear one when I am ordering things, or buying things or attempting to enjoy some form of public entertainment. I cannot rely on reading others lips. My lips are hidden. We ask each other to repeat. We move our eyes or our whole heads to try and enunciate more clearly. I say fewer words, more carefully chosen words behind the mask. Sometimes that is helpful, sometimes that just causes more confusion. I walked into the woods. I did not need a mask. I only saw a few other people and they were distanced. Masks were unnecessary. After so much talking and not talking and avoiding talking out loud I am forced to examine when I speak and when I choose not to. This is not a bad thing since I can be an insufferable chatter box, just a new thing for my brain to adjust itself to. When I am not standing aro...

Bringing her back

As the first anniversary finally passed, I exhaled. The sadness still nibbled away at the edges, but not clawing deep into my chest like it had been with varying degrees of ferocity in the twelve months previously. She died in early summer, so I plunged into ocean and lakes and ate fruit straight from the plant. The grief became softer, the folk songs carried me along in the potato patch we planted in therapy. But then, I started to miss her. The deep grief kept her so close and now as the pressure eased, so did her presence. I held my breath and decided to be really sad this morning just to see her face. To sit in her prescence. My breath became jagged as I cried for her, for us. This Taylor Swift cover by Marc Maron broke me right open this morning. Here's to staying broken open enough to keep your loved ones close. And then, I walked into her garden. The garden she envisionied, planted over and over and still pre...

Growing Versions

Search This Blog