Christie Meierz has a Guest Post at SFSignal, in which she talks about some of the women who live in the Liaden Universe® and what makes a woman strong. Here’s your link.
Yesterday, I took myself out of the house, to work at the Winslow Public Library — chance of scene, and all like that, plus I assumed that it would be quieter than the house was scheduled to be on the day.
Well. . .it was a change of scene, but. . .libraries aren’t quiet anymore.
The first surprise was that the tables had been rearranged since the last time I’d been in, and my favorite table, in No Woman’s Land between the Storytime Bleachers and the Adult Fiction Section, had been replaced by a checkers table. It was a nice height, and sturdy, and more or less big enough for my needs, but I didn’t feel I should set up camp there, in case someone wanted to play checkers.
So, I moved back into the room (the Winslow Library is located in what used to be a rollerskating rink, so it’s one Really Big Room) , where there were two tables, deep in the bowels of non-fiction. One table was occupied by a man who was quietly reading a book. Good enough. I claimed the second, unpacked, and commenced in to work.
. . .only to find that the man who had been quietly reading had been awaiting the return of his son, who was doing research for a report, and who, I suppose, had reading comprehension issues, because the man said, “Ready?” and started to read the book aloud to the boy. Every so often, he would stop, and the boy would say back what he had understood.
I quietly packed up and moved to the map table near the computers, which is where I stayed throughout the next three-0dd hours. I could still hear the man reading to his son, but it wasn’t so loud that I couldn’t ignore it.
Scarcely had I vacated the table when a high school aged girl came in with a woman. They sat down at the table, and began grammar and punctuation drills. Which they did for three hours. I’m a writer, and I can’t maintain an enthusiasm for punctuation for three straight hours, but these ladies were hardcore.
Meanwhile, the father and son moved over to the computers, and the boy logged into. . .something. His dad had to prompt him a couple times, but on the whole he needed much less help with the computer than he had with his research reading.
The boy had barely gotten logged in when an older man and a younger couple came in, took over the table he and his dad had been using and commenced in to having a seminar about. . .something. Which they labored over for more than two hours.
Who knew the library was such a crossroads of commerce?
After I was done my own work, I wandered across the river, and had a late lunch at Holy Cannoli. If you’re ever in the neighborhood, the lemon-chicken soup is to die for.
I finished up a couple errands, and made my way back home, to find that we’re under a Winter Storm Watch from this evening into Sunday. Depending on who you believe, we’re looking at snow accumulations of 3-5 or 4-8 inches. There’s also an outlying model which predicts it will rain, to which I can only say, “avert.”
While I was at the library, I picked up a bookmark advertising the Langlais Art Trail. This is a project to mapping the location of all of the (odd, humorous, and, in many cases, Quite Large) pieces of art that Bernard Langlais gave to the State of Maine across the course of his career. The most famous of these is, of course, the Skowhegan Indian. The Colby College Art Museum also has a nice collection of his smaller works.
For more information about Bernard Langlais, his work, and the art trail, go here.
Now, having brought y’all up to date on the doings of the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory, finished my coffee, and brushed three cats, I’m going to turn off the internet and go to work.
Everybody have a good weekend!