She's baaaaack.

I mean Linsey. She got home from Florida a few weeks ago and came to visit me last weekend. A whole three days of zero loneliness. It was awesome.

Day one, we did a little shopping (I got this sweater at Second Chance -- a sort of permanent sample sale store),

then out to sushi, and topped it off with some dancing at the Standard (a club on the roof of a skyscraper downtown). Lots of crazy pictures, but they're all on Linsey's camera.

Next day we hit up Ikea and I got some bookshelves (still working on filling them up.)

Then we had the BEST pasta (actually, Linsey's friend who met us for lunch ordered the best pasta, but Linsey and I eyed it like little puppies until we were finally allowed to finish it off). We were at Michel Richard's.

Anyway, it was basically a carbonara, but instead of having little chunks of onion, the onions had been strained out of the sauce. I tried it at home. HUGE improvement over my usual carbonara.

On our last day we went with my friend Sarit and her baby and her cousin to the Noah's Ark Exibit at the Skirball. It was AMAZING and I wanted so so so badly to have my nephews Nels and Willem there to enjoy it.

The ark and animals were all made out of "repurposed objects" and could be manipulated and climbed on. Here is linsey


moving this giant giraffe:




They truly thought of every detail kids love. Net walkways all around the ark that kids could climb up, ropes and pulleys for sending up food, a mini table, and fake poop for them to clean up.

Library Lady

Yesterday I visited 10 classes at Gardner Street Elementary to promote the library. At the end of each class presentation, I always ask the kids if they remember my name and the name of the library I'm from.

Usually, they respond with some mumbled version of, "Ms. Hillary?" or "Ms. Libarian." Either that, or they don't remember at all.

But yesterday I got a couple of surprises.

One girl responded with complete confidence, "Ms. Harry!"

And later, Jordan (6), who knows me from the library already, answered, "Ms. Hillary. With two l's."

Barbaric Gourmet or Confessions of Eating Alone or Don't Come to My House for Dinner

Tonight I chewed the fat off of my lamb ribs
(pan-seared with a spice-and-chili rub) and drank
from the liter Pelegrino bottle, grasping it's
neck like a forty.

My farmers market baby greens and
grape tomatoes having been
wolfed down, I tipped
the bowl to my face and
drank the dressing.

I swiped my tongue up
a gallon tin when olive oil
started streaming
down the side.

And then I ate my stove-top roasted
eggplant with my fingers.

From the pan.

Failed attempt

I'm pretty much not a consumer of alcohol these days (unless I'm visiting Gypsy) but I had to go to Whole Foods because no one else carries Diamond kosher salt, and once I was there, I got adventurous and picked out a beer to try. I went to the section that sold single bottles and picked the one with the best lable: Biere du Bouranier. There's a pirate on the front with missing teeth. Très cool. Plus it says "superior class" on the top. Never mind that I had to dust the bottle off to see that label.

I cooked up some lamb and rice and made some salad, and pulled out my beer. One swig and my head started floating away. The pirate must have distracted me from the "11% alc. vol." written next to him. Woooeee. Beer is ok, but mostly tastes like alcohol. If you want my advice, stay away from pirate beer.

Putting my pretty dishes to good use

Pommes de terre au gratin (Potatoes cooked in a lot of fat.)

I typed what's in my head

Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. I didn't copy-paste.

Off-meter, off rhyme: a poem about me

Don't ask me why
I walk upside down
I walk with my breast
pressed to the ground

Almost every
part of me floats
my head, my arms,
my legs, my throat

My rear-end is full of air
between my ears I've not a care
I'm electric -
look at my hair!


My hands cook
my eyes look
my arms hold up
any good book

I'm smiley and wiley
and crafty and cruel
I'm really a silly and
lovable girl

Except for the weight
that remains in my chest
pulling me down
to walk on my breast.

Its heavy so heavy
but I don't dare
let it go lest I lose myself
up in the air

while the rest of me floats
right out into space
sadness--my friend--
anchors me right into place.

Random thoughts of a librarian

X950 G435 in pencil
I get to write numbers on the title page.
I always thought
Whoever wrote those mysterious markings
In the front of books must be very
Sophisticated.

I’m sorry sir, but yes, you’ll have to
Replace the six books you accidentally
Gave to the Good Will. I understand we
Are charging you over $300 dollars, but
Giving your books away is not a valid
Reason not to pay, according to our policy.

No, no this cutest 7 year old red-headed girl who
Is whip-smart and sits behind the
Desk with me pretending to be a librarian
Is not my daughter. But it makes me happy
When people ask.
It makes me sad too.

I can’t think of a single thing to put up
On my gigantic walls. Something to beat
A 25 foot dragon, a life-size tree growing
Out of the corner with Silverstein to match.
A poem by Miss Nova (of the red hair previously mentioned)
With kites and a summer sky over green grass.
What two-dimensional wonder can I use next?

No one drew on my best-ever art challenge-of-the-
Day: Draw something you would NEVER eat. I
Drew a plate of eyeballs. Maybe I won.

Schools to visit, stories to memorize, craft supplies
To buy, craft materials to prep.
Books to be moved, books to be cleaned,
Books to be read and displayed, songs to
Be learned and all the motions. And publicity
So someone comes. Make sure to call
The dancers, and the art teacher and the teen
Volunteer, “you ARE on your way, right?”. And stats.
Don’t forget to keep track and write up all your stats.
And could you get people to fill out an evaluation too?

Also there’s the bank. And, shoot, that guy
Is sleeping again. And drooling now.
Cough cough I hope I don’t get tb.

I have a chair behind my desk but
It is not for sitting. Rather it is another
Surface on which to pile books, ghosts made
Out of spoons, construction paper spiders.

I suppose tomorrow I should wear heels.