friday the 13th followed by saturday the 14th

The other evening at work while I was in the bathroom (since I’m pregnant, I pee approximately every seven minutes), another bathroom user’s cell phone rang – and they *answered* it. I realize I probably have issues, but if I were calling you, I would not want you to interrupt your bodily functions to answer the call. Answer nature’s call first, then call me back. Thank you.

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The guys running the circ desk – generally two very competent individuals - could not track down two books that had been held for a patron. Granted, the books were from a different part of the library, and they’d been left on the counter of the person’s desk who had put them “on hold,” rather than on the hold shelves in the circ area, but they were in plain sight. It was so quiet in reference that I volunteered to go look for them upstairs; I found them within minutes. Smack in the middle of the counter by the desk. My only point is this: Is it a male thing? I still don’t get *how* they could have missed them. Gender-based locational disorder? Masculine dyslocatus? Aberrant locus syndrome?

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I have to change my email address; or rather I have to notify everyone who emails me (with the exception of the Viagra ad people and the house mortgage people) that my one email is about to expire. This is such a pain. I hate doing it. I should just post the new email here on the blog but those thousands of people who read this everyday – yeah, right, does *anyone* read this? – would spam me. I think I am safe from David and Gina spamming me, though. And they already have my new email anyway.

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Simon is obsessed with death and heaven lately. Pretty heavy stuff for a four-year-old, if you ask me. I’d rather he went back to discussing Pittsburgh’s mayoral race (he knows we’re voting Peduto in this house) and how many candidates there are for judge and which we like (Kathryn Hens-Greco, John Pushinsky : good; Tom Flaherty: bad).

“Mom, did you know that Simba’s dad is dead? He’s in heaven, right? Scar killed Simba’s father and then Simba killed Scar. But Scar was bad, so he’s not in heaven.” (This might be understandable if we’d ever let him watch The Lion King, but kids seem to pick up so much just from other kids. Maybe we should just let him watch the movie instead of answering 6 gajillion questions about death. )

“Mom, what’s heaven like? Is it like here except you don’t get sick or die?” Since that’s pretty much my idea of what heaven is, I say yes, but then what do I know? If I am theologically leading my child astray, please, God, forgive me.

“Mom, are Jude and me old enough to get shot? Like if someone like Mark David Chapman had a gun, could he shoot us?” Can we not even think about this? Thank you.

“Mark David Chapman is a very bad man because he shot John Lennon. But not everyone who gets shot dies. John Hinckley shot Ronald Reagan and Ronald Reagan didn’t die.” This is true; something to be said for lots of Secret Service agents surrounding you. And John Lennon must’ve forgotten to duck, too.

“John Lennon is dead because he was shot by a bad man who is in prison now for his whole life. George Harrison died from smoking too many cigarettes. And Joe Strummer’s dead, too.” I am going to start making lists of musicians he likes that are still alive. Thank God Jeff Tweedy is still alive. Note to Jeff: Do NOT die. Thank you.