Photographic proof that I have infected the Atlantic ocean with my cooties.
Posts Tagged ‘cross country’
Trip souvenir: Boston Public Library Card
May 7, 2012If you had a book (a book that you wrote), where would you want to see it? I mean, other than the New York Times’ bestseller list.
A few weeks after it came out, my father-in-law found my book on a store shelf near Harvard. He took a photo of it, making me quite happy.
Still, it was disappointing that most bookstores don’t carry my book, it is only available for special order, which is silly. And, while tempting, I did not follow through on my idea to call all of the Barnes & Nobels, order a copy and, when it arrives, say nevermind so that it goes to their shelves for people to admire (and buy).
It was exciting to see my book, to actually touch it, especially for the first time. But that was a little anticlimactic because many of my friends got a copy before I did (from Amazon). O’Reilly gave me several author copies. I picked out one for myself and gave a couple to family (most of my supportive and generous friends bought their own copies). What to do with the other copies?
I love the library. It is a place where you can borrow books. As a child, it was an all-you-can-eat mental buffet, my family could never have afforded even a hundredth of the books I blew through as soon as I got my own card. It was a child’s card initially but I snuck into the big library (“waiting for my mom” got me in with the security guards). I’d go pick up my pile from the kid’s ara and then read the adult books (ok, the adult encyclopedia, the guards still kept track of me). I suspect my love of Wikipedia comes from these formative years.
Since I love the library, I donated copies to my two local library systems. They were humorously confused by the donation. See, I had to find the right person to donate it to, the acquisition librarian, so it wouldn’t go into the neverending fundraising used book sale.
The exchange for the Santa Clara system happened in person. The librarian was a little confused. Even as I was handing her the books, she wanted to make sure that I didn’t want to be paid for them. And then she explained that these would go into the system and be available to all the libraries, not the just the Campbell one. (Yes, of course!)
But one sad (ok, ecstatically happy) thing is that my book is always checked out. Of both libraries. And each library got extra copies beyond the two each I gave them. I have never managed to pop in and get a picture of my book with the library labeling (and the Dewey decimal stickers!). I do check, especially when I’m bummed for one reason or another… knowing people have checked out my book is spirit lifting.
I had hoped that we’d see my book in the Library of Congress in Washington DC. Despite common wisdom, they do not carry every book. One book that the Library of Congress does not have is (cue dirge music) my book. What is this nation coming to?
Actually, if I’d known and planned ahead, I might have tried to give a copy of my book to the LOC. That would have been spiffy but I didn’t bring any copies on the trip because I believed the myth (that LOC carried everything). The congress people would do well to understand the problems associated with creating robust embedded systems, it is an important subject for all our future.
Sigh.
However, when all seems lost, at its darkest, there are other opportunities. In this case, Boston Public Library. You may have seen their lions:
Boston public library carries my book! But not for checkout… How odd, I don’t know if it is better that it is a reference only book and they are afraid it will be stolen or worse that people don’t get to take it home to truly enjoy it. In order to check my book out from BPL, you have to fill out a form, get a library card to finish filling out the form, and then hand it to the nice lady who will go retrieve the books from behind a “Staff Only” door.
Once you have the book, start by admiring the Dewey decimal and BPL signage. There are many marble topped tables and other beautiful desks that lend gravity to the library.
Ok, once you’ve appreciated the awesomeness of my book in the library, in the Boston Public Library, now it is time to take the book on a wee adventure (remember: you can’t leave the library). You shouldn’t run through the library giggling and squeeing. It is frowned upon though if you run fast enough, no one will catch you so it is ok. Be sure to take pictures in well known locations though you may need a confederate. Just in case, be sure you can run faster than the confederate.
Please send me your pictures with my book, particularly in famous locales, especially in famous libraries. It is really damn cool.
You may want to write a book just so you can try this out. Awesome fun!
The adventures of today
May 7, 2012In which we spend the day before we drive back (decided!) sitting around on a deck, eating cookies and watching the waves crash below us.
Oh, and I’ll finally dip my toes in the Atlantic (well, Cape Cod) when we hike down to the rocky shore.
Mental note: this is what vacation is supposed to be. I’m sorry it is only going to be the one day.
Disturbing news and damaged monuments
May 6, 2012The sun rises in the east and sets in the west, round and round it goes, hopefully continuing long beyond my short life.
But the sun should set over the ocean. I find it disconcerting to have the ocean get darker but the sunsetting in the other side of the sky.
We went to Plymouth today, saw a rock and a Mayflower. I know that is not the Mayflower and personally disbelieve it is the rock. But here, have some pictures.
First, the re-creation of of the Mayflower. It is a tourist attraction complete with historically dressed tour guide. I didn’t do so well with the last historic re-creation so we won’t be going aboard. The temptation to snark is too high.
And here is the alleged rock. Maybe. Except if it was the rock that the Pilgrims landed upon, then it has been broken and moved so it was not well preserved.
And yet…
May 6, 2012I’m a planner. I’ll just cop to that and have done with it. So, let’s review the current plan: leave Tuesday morning from Plymouth (Massachusetts), then stay nights in Cleveland, Chicago, Minneapolis, Bismark (North Dakota), Billings or Bozeman, extra day in Yellowstone, Wells (nowhere Nevada), home.
When C said he didn’t get to see his sister much, I figured we could extend the trip a day but then realized I do want to be home so, while we’d say we were extending the trip, I suspect we’d bail on the extra Yellowstone day. (Though C just said it is going to rain in Plymouth on Tuesday so now he’s not excited to stay.)
And when C mentioned flying back, despite my ambivalence, I started to generate a plan for that. First, it would cost about $450 each in plane tickets (about a hundred less if we’d be willing to stop in Phoenix, probably not). That is slightly more than we’ll spend on hotels on the way back but only slightly more. We’d have to give back the rental car and accept whatever fee they charged us, probably less than their weekly rental fee, definitely less than gas. We could stay an extra day or two, maybe fly back on Thursday afteroon (flights leave around 4:30pm from Boston). That would give us more time with family and still put us home a few days early. We’d have to check some bags, probably ship a few things and also abandon cooler (possibly we’ll call that “giving it to my inlaws”). That’d be ok.
It isn’t about the cost, though. This trip is supposed to be about seeing the country and pushing our personal boundaries. And I’ve heard the food scene in Wisconsin and Minneapolis is dynamite.
Except, C is what is known as a fearful flyer. Unlike some, he knows how a plane works (heck, given his enjoyment of flight simulators, he could probably talk you through a landing) so his fear isn’t ignorance based. It is a control thing. If he’s in the car, he’s in control, even though it is statistically far more dangerous to drive than to fly. Plus there is the sitting-next-to-a-stranger unhappiness that comes with all forms of public transportation. And the germs.
I can’t say I enjoy flying. The security checkpoints are intrusive and the flying part is just bothersome. But 6.5 hours of annoyance needs to be weighed against 6 days of mild irritation interspersed with fun and serious annoyance.
Some people suggested that I drug C for the flight here. But they didn’t understand, it isn’t the flight that is hard; the problem is the constant anxiety in the days and weeks leading up to a flight. If it was just the 6 or 8 hours (counting airport time), I would suggest chemical means. But not for a week leading up to the flight.
As we crossed the never ending nothingness between Albuquerque and Oklahoma, C admitted that it might be less stressful to fly than to keep up the constant angst of driving, eating out, and hotels. (Remember, Albuquerque’s Best Western sucked and the first Whole Foods was Oklahoma city.) He said he wished we’d flown.
That is a pretty big breakthrough for him. I wasn’t sure how to take it. We’d talked about desensitizing him to flying, maybe taking a trip to Anaheim (45 minute flight) and spending the weekend at Disneyland and Dodger games before flying back. With a trip all about fun, maybe it would be worth it to him. If he could learn to give up the control, maybe we’d go somewhere further afield. But we’d shelved that project for another day, maybe this summer.
So now, what do I want to do? Once I got into it, I was pretty excited about traveling around the country. I’ve had a really good time seeing the country. Given how different the states were as we traveled west to east, I’m very interested in seeing the differences along the northern route. And yet.
And yet, if I could transport home right now, I would. To sit in the warm sunshine in the lounge chairs in the backyard, hanging out with the dogs and a glass of something cold, fizzy, and fruity. To spend part of my day applying my mad problem solving skills** to problems that need solving. To not need to go for long walks in the early morning to alleviate my own anxiety. To be able to eat foods that aren’t exciting, food that I cooked myself.
I don’t know what we’ll do. It is up to C. But I don’t know what I want so I don’t plan to pressure him either way. There is goodness along both paths. I won’t be disappointed to fly home. And I might learn something on the drive home. His choice.
** We were discussing my reception snack acquisition and I mentioned that one of my skills was making things happen, I just needed a goal and I turned into a guided missile. My sister-in-law (not the flute playing one, the mathematician one) said she really wanted to pet an Abyssinian kitten. Darn if I didn’t actually look up the local Abs rescue before I realized I’d rather nap than attempt to grant her wish. She’s spoiled enough.