It's another day in Lake Wobegon . . .

So Sam and I went to see Garrison Keillor this past Sunday, at Boston Symphony Hall. It was a great hall but, as always, the seats were so uncomfortable. I think it's for the many symphonies and operas that get played there--or at least for the people watching them, because they couldn't get comfortable enough to drift off to sleep if they wanted to.


Sam did start to doze off, however, just about mid-point in Garrison's talk. She said he just had such a nice voice to sleep to . . . I'm sure he'd be happy to hear that. That, and it reminded her of when I read to her at night, just before she goes to bed. We've been reading Roald Dahl's The BFG for the past two years, because I can only get two pages into it before I notice that Sam's asleep. That and I have to preface every reading with what happened last time she fell asleep. Anyway, Sam had another comment about Garrison Keillor . . . after we left, she told me that she understands where I get my storytelling style from. Must be a Midwestern thing to tell stories that have a definite beginning, meander for an (indefinite) period of time, and, if you have the fortitude to pay attention long enough, will return to the definite beginning with an inconclusive end. It's not the story that's the point, it's the journey we take in its telling . . .

What did Garrison talk about? Well, he started off with a poem, then sang "Pretty Polly," a folk song in the tradition of the Child ballads (it has its roots in this particular Child ballad). After that he groused about literary traditions (paying particular attention to T.S. Elliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock", which he called "the poem that singlehandedly turns students off from poetry"). After all that, he began a thirty-or-forty-minute story which culminated in the meeting of a wedding, a funeral, Bruno the fishing dog, and thirty Danish Lutheran pastors in Lake Wobegon (the actual lake, not the town). It was great--if you want a recounting of it, just give me a call and I'll be happy to give you the gist of it. In the end, he had me laughing so hard that I was crying. It reminded me of all the times my Grandma Mack, Mom, Nicole and I would sit around, listening to his recordings on tape and laughing 'till our sides hurt. I'm looking forward to the next time I'll see him . . .

Not enough time in the world . . .

Amongst other things, there's not enough time in the world. At least when you're too lazy for your own good and don't get around to blogging for a week . . .

So my mother wrote me an email today saying she was going to catch up on my blog while she and dad drove to Chicago--hence the reason I'm getting off my duff and blogging today, because I'm sure there wasn't enough for her to catch up on.

Big news--my friend, Quinn Walker, was recently signed to the Voodoo-EROS label. He's spent quite a few years playing the part of the struggling artist and, if all goes well, he'll have some time to spend as the road-weary musician who just wants to go home and spend his hard-earned money. As a side note, I decided to play a joke on Quinn and made a Wikipedia entry for him, which is where his linked name will take you. He was very modest about it at first, not wanting to have a thing to do with it, but when I told him the wild lies I had put on there, he decided to get his hands dirty and set the record straight. You can see the wild lies here. Beware--some are inside jokes. Sorry. Here's an article that was written about his signing, with a really wacky picture to go along with it.

I've been enjoying my time back in school, taking some interesting classes: Public Library management, user instruction, and collection development and management. The pub. lib. management course is taught by a great professor who rattles our cages constantly, so that's always fun--especially so because it's Monday morning at 9.30, so it keeps everyone awake. The User Instruction course will be very helpful, as it's a type of crash-course in teaching--something that librarians do all the time. Collection development is kind of dry, but so is the professor's humor--he's British, and he likes to repeat himself. It's great, he spends the first fifteen minutes of class telling us what he's going to teach. I think he's just trying to get himself revved up. I'm sure I'll have more to say about the courses as they take over my life . . .

What else? Oh, Sam and I are going to see Garrison Keillor this weekend. Should be fun--I've been reading Lake Wobegon Days to counteract the effects of reading library texts. Wish I could tell stories like him.

Well, that's all I can come up with in the time I've alloted myself. Now I've got to go make a sandwich for my dinner tonight (I work 12-8 at the Simmons Library) and I want to stop off at the Irish bakery in town to pick up some Irish stew and brown bread for my lunch. Yum!