As with most endeavors, the lead-up to New Year’s came with ambition, planning, and excitement. We decided that moving away wasn’t going to happen just yet and that we’d be staying in our town and renewing our lease, at least for the next 7 months or so. I’m not ashamed to admit that the first thing I did after our discussion was to make my way to our local library.

And, oh….it’s a great library. Because we’re in Florida, it’s in a strip mall (but don’t let that discourage you–it’s a really big strip mall).

As soon as I walked in, I realized that our town definitely loves its readers. It’s enormous and lovely and full of beautiful things. The used bookstore (one of my favorite places to be) that’s attached is pretty sizeable, too. Fliers advertising gaming groups and mothers groups and book clubs garnished the front hallway, as well as the obligatory display cases, showcasing rare books and works of art.

The interior of the library was also enormous; stacks and stacks of beautiful reference books (oh, how I wished I had something to research), conference rooms, reading rooms, comfy chairs, rows of DVDs and books-on-tape, lovingly worn paperbacks on those neato little spinning racks, some intriguing looking map books…

It’s a library, folks. I mean, it’s pretty standard. But so awesome.

The staff must have thought I was an alien–or at least someone who’d never been to a library–probably because of my wild stare and the way I gushed with pride when I sauntered up to the counter, announcing that I would be getting a library card today (ho, ho, ho). I subtly leafed through my little notebook as the library technician took my information and generated my card, paying close attention to whether her gaze drifted to my massive TBR list with its “MASTER LIST” heading.

They’ll be so proud when they see what I’m reading….and we’ll be great friends and sit over coffee and discuss the finer points of some of the greatest works of literature. We’d snoot over allegory and plot devices and wonder how the rest of the world can live in such ignorance of fine music, poetry, and delving into the genius minds of the great, dead, white dudes.

So, like, I was 12 for a few minutes. Also, I don’t go to places. Or talk to people. Or only read dead, white dudes. So.

I moved on, list in hand, and quickly found my two selections. I checked out without the slightest hint of fanfare. No confetti. Not even any wide-eyed youngsters staring in awe and wishing they were clever enough to pick such well-rounded and well thought out choices. It was time to leave. I had my books.

Now the only thing remained was to strut through the parking lot, head held high (and very slowly, of course) so the world could witness by great decision.

Before you wonder, I did realize how supremely dorky I was being. Mostly because I am always supremely dorky (I’ve come to terms). I also realized that I overdo the daydreaming thing and I’m probably not now on the path to becoming a librarian in a few short years after miraculously getting into a free masters program because I’m Charlie Bucket and I want it more.

But I did have my cool books. And I read through them like a starving cartoon character crawling through the desert toward a mirage–desperately, ravenously; picturing each of them as talking pastries or ice-cream sundaes.

And tasty pastries they were. I picked The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, by Mark Haddon and The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, by Rebecca Skloot. Both great reads and I’ll be talking about them soon, I promise.

Since they were both read before New Year’s, I don’t consider them as part of my goal, but as I did end up reading them in the days before New Year’s (plus one other: Watership Down, by Richard Adams–which changed my life, until the next adventure anyway). I still plan to talk about them in my next entry…something to keep me writing while I’m reading my first week’s selection: An Absolutely Remarkable Thing, by Hank Green.

It’s half-past midnight…and I’ve missed my goal of posting on a Tuesday, because welcome to me. I thank you for your continued patience (some or none or one of you) and hope you’ll visit me in my next entry. It’s too late to watch any more Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, so I’m going to continue wasting time before bed, most likely scrolling through Facebook or Twitter and listening to podcasts (which are less of a waste, but do take time).

Good Morning, all….and see you next time

~L