MLIS

Of late, I have begun to pursue a second career option. I began a second masters degree last fall in Library and Information Science through San Jose State U.

Getting an MLIS never would have occurred to me if it weren't for Reija. Reija of red hair, who just had to suffer through a gross anatomy course at Rochester med school. Here is a picture of me "wearing" Reija's hair:

I always wanted to have red hair.

Ahem. Well, what's the point of getting a degree in library science, you may ask? One year ago I would have told you that there was no point, that there couldn't possibly be anything to learn about being a librarian, especially at the masters level. But then, at the time, I thought that all librarians did was check in books. The facts are, many people these days who get an MLIS degree don't work in libraries because their skills are applicable to many other jobs and are highly in demand. Interesting article that helps illuminate the profession: here

So, back to Reija. I was trying to think of another career option and she told me the answer. Get an MLIS, she said. "It's hip." That, combined with my book obsession and worship of my library card was enough.

Lesson learned: If Reija tells you to do something, DO it.

PS: Reija, I am missing you.

cookbook heaven

I have too many cookbooks. This is undeniable. I used to have more, but I gave some away during the last move. Both shelves in the picture have nothing but cookbooks on them! The magazines on the left are Bon Appetit issues. I purchased half of the cookbooks at booksales (FOPAL I love you!), and the rest are wedding gifts, ward cookbooks, and presents from the mum. I'm obsessed. I try not to buy more cookbooks when I'm at booksales, but I just can't help it!!! I haven't made recipes from all of them either. YET. Anyone else have this problem?

(Click on the photo to read titles, if you are interested.)

how many engineers to change a light bulb?

Today I have made history (for me anyway). I changed a light bulb.

Q: How many engineers does it take to change a light bulb?
A: One. But it took 18 months.

That's right. 18 months. 18 months ago one of my brake lights stopped working. There were multiple people to mention it. There was the German guy yelling over the balcony once, but he didn't know the word for it. He kept calling it a stop light, and I didn't quite get it. But he told me it was the RIGHT side. I had no idea how to change a brake light bulb. And so I didn't. And I never got pulled over either. But it's been hanging in the back of my mind for so long, and I never made the time to figure it out. Once last year, while I was getting the oil changed I asked a mechanic how to do change the bulb. He helped me figure out which bulb it was and showed me how to get to the bulb area. Again, on the right side. There are three tiny bulbs back there.

Last October on the way home from work, I pulled into Autozone with the intention of fixing it. But there weren't any bulbs in the store that said "brake light" so then I felt stupid and left.

Last December, I started thinking I should probably try again to get it fixed. I asked DH to watch while I put on the brakes, and he told me that it was the LEFT brake light not working! Maybe I was hallucinating when the German guy and the mechanic told me it was the right side. I'm pretty sure I saw the mechanic working on the right side also.

Anyway. Today, I checked (with the help of my neighbor) which side was not working, and confirmed which bulb it was. However, it has been a year since the mechanic told me how to access the bulb area, which means I have forgotten everything. So it took me a while to figure out how to get to the bulb area. But then I went to the store and got another bulb with the right part number on it, and put it in. Now I am pro. Go ahead and laugh.

And that's the end of the story.

something found in the street

While driving on Bountiful Boulevard this christmas, DH and I saw a red pile of cloth in the street. Was it a scarf? A hat? A sweater? I know not. WE know not. Cloth is only a guess. After pointing it out to DH, he somehow connected it to a line from that list of items one must traditionally wear to the wedding (as a bride, that is):
Something old, something new, something borrowed, and something FOUND IN THE STREET.

We then contemplated the unpleasantness that might result if that line were, indeed, part of the original tradition. Yuck.

For the record, I did not wear something found in the street. But, rather, wore these things:

Something old: my bra. (scandalous! the unmentionables have been mentioned!)
Something new: the dress.
Something borrowed: A necklace. The chain and pendant were not originally a set, and each piece was from my two grandmothers.
Something BLUE: a blue ribbon tied to the inside of my dress.

a world without vacuums

I have lived without a vacuum for more than 3 1/2 years. I took them for granted. Vacuums have always been a ubiquitous thing. Growing up, there were always at least two vacuums. Three if you count the wet vac. And yet, upon my moving to a zip code beginning with 9, the bleak reality of my situation came upon me. NO vacuum. And, naturally, buying one was out of the question since they are large and expensive and I had enough junk already when I knew I would be moving a zillion times (so far 1 zillion = 4 times).

Luckily, the first place I lived in a zip code beginning with 9 was in a graduate student apartment on campus that had low flat carpet (as opposed to fluffy--I really don't know my carpet lingo). Sometimes I tried to sweep it. Generally I just picked up stuff when I saw it. After a few months my roommate was made the temporary owner of her friend's vacuum while that friend was away for the summer. Unfortunately, anything we sucked up with it just went out again in a cloud of dust and smoke. The next two apartments I lived in had vacuums that belonged to other people, and so I lived in bliss for a while. And now I live in an apartment with no carpet at all, still without a vacuum. Do you know how much dust can build up on wood floors? Sweeping just isn't my thing either.

Finally, after being told by the neighbor that the dust collecting around the heater was a fire hazard, I realized that I was an adult now and should have my own vacuum. Sigh.

So I bought this vacuum, and I JUST used it and LOVE it! Vacuuming up huge piles of dust is just like flossing when you've got lots of plaque: Really satisfying:)