Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind

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Have I said enough about the self-absorption of Americans? I’ll shut up now.

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I just realized that one of my regular library patrons is a member of the symphony. I am totally star struck. I laughed at my husband when he came home after a wine-tasting event excited that he’d met one of the symphony musicians, but now here I am in the same boat and just as thrilled. God we’re dorks! I began to question my vocation as a librarian when I could not find a score this guy was searching for – I had one of those “I am a better librarian than THIS!” moments-- turns out we were both spelling the composer’s name incorrectly. Can I accost him the next time he comes in, and ask him what he thinks of the new pieces the symphony plays? (Dan and I like most of them, or at least appreciate having the chance to hear them, and think the symphony should try more new music.) and what did he think of a particular guest conductor? (Dan and I adored him and wished they’d hire him for good!)

I suppose that would be entirely unprofessional. Sigh.

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I am reading Laurie R. King’s Justice Hall, and it is a page-turner. My favorite up to now of this series about Mary Russell, apprentice and then partner to Sherlock Holmes, has been O Jerusalem!, and many of the same characters appear in Justice Hall. I started it yesterday and am about halfway through. I had to go do my glucose tolerance test this morning which generally entails sitting around the waiting room of the outpatient lab for a goodly amount of time. But when you have a good book to read and your MIL has your kids, this can actually be a good thing.

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They are already discussing this year’s Booker at the Guardian.

I don’t like Ian McEwan; I haven’t read any Julian Barnes or JM Coetzee; I love Rushdie but his last novel sucked and the new one isn’t due out till September. I haven’t read any Ishiguro since Remains of the Day which was all right but not earth-moving, although I would like to check out his new one. I could not get into Zadie Smith’s books at all, even though White Teeth came highly recommended by Gina whose taste I trust. And I have somewhat lost faith in the Booker since last year David Mitchell’s brilliant, beautifully written, and engrossing Cloud Atlas lost to Allan Hollinghurst’s godawful and boring Line of Beauty.

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In other news, the parasite has flipped. His head is down and to the left, and his butt is up and to the right, and he should stay put now. How my OB can tell all this just by pressing on my stomach I haven’t got a clue, but that’s why we pay her the big bucks. I’ll bet *she* couldn’t find a score by Hellmesberger. (Oh, wait, neither could I.)

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I am generally an advocate of bicyclists, meaning that I find it admirable that people cycle to work to help the environment, stay in shape, etc. This city is not particularly a bike-friendly place. However-- within the past month or so, I have seen several bicyclists shoot through red lights or stop signs at which cars were obediently stopped; most of these scofflaws have not even bothered to turn their heads to see if perhaps there was traffic coming with the green light; I have seen bicyclists riding down heavily-trafficked roads in the dark, with no lights, no reflectors, no helmets, and not observing basic traffic laws. The next time I hear a bicyclist decry the general lack of courtesy on the part of city drivers, or even, God forbid, the next time one of these bicyclists gets flattened by a car, I will curtail my knee-jerk “It must have been the car driver’s fault” reaction. I will have to find out details about the accident before I am so ready to pin the blame on the driver of the car rather than the bicyclist, just by virtue of which each is driving.

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Am I posting too much? I don’t know if it’s new-blogger-enthusiasm or my tendency to want to communicate with an adult during the day, or what. But I don’t want to bore people. I just seem to have some things to say, and the time, at the moment, to say them.