Get that postcard in the mail, yo

Yes, I know, I'm a terrible, inconsistent blogger. But did we really expect any different from me? No, no we did not.

So I'm breaking my long silence (again) to say that today is the last day for Texas residents to register to vote. If you haven't registered yet, you better get a move on, cowboy. This is quite possibly one of the most important elections in our country's history, and if you don't vote and then McCain dies and Sarah Palin becomes president, I'm blaming you. Personally.

Just in case you don't feel the weight of the issue enough, here are some celebrities telling you to vote:

Maybe we'll start teaching dance & theater at the library?!

Well folks,
I'm breaking my long silence here in the blogosphere not to tell you about our eventful move to Texas, or my new job, or our spacious new apartment, but to post this lovely video of a lyrical dance from The Southern Strutt, a giant dance studio in South Carolina.



Hopefully, this fall, in addition to my Library Science classes at UNT (which I dread) and my job (which bores me), I'll be taking a lyrical jazz class at Texas Woman's University (which is the only thing in this life really worth doing).

Is it odd that in fewer than twenty posts, I've already mentioned Britney Spears twice?

My lovely sister sent me a link to this video earlier today, and I like it so much I thought I'd post it here. It's Yael Naim, a Hebrew indie singer living in Paris, performing a remake of Britney Spears' "Toxic".

We All Live in a Yellow Submarine

So here's the plan:

Luke and I buy this house and remodel it, and the whole thing only takes two months. Out one window is the ocean, out one is a busy pedestrian street in a big city, the kitchen overlooks endless plains of waving grass, and the bathroom has a tiny window that opens to a little European hamlet. The house has beautiful hardwood floors and a dishwasher. The walls are bright, soothing colors and I have suddenly become a good housekeeper.

Because the house will have at least five bedrooms, we invite our friends and family to live with us. The ones who don't fit buy this house next door, and we all have dinner together on the terrace in warm weather. Albert Einstein lives across the street with Regina Spektor and Natalie Portman. We watch them come and go and speculate about their lives. I am pen pals with Sue Monk Kidd. Jesus runs a bakery on the corner.

On Tuesday mornings, Mozart comes to play piano at my library. The kids draw pictures of him in crayon, and he reads them stories with an Austrian accent. The janitor insists on calling him by his full name, Joannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus Mozart, which drives him crazy.

Sunday afternoons, Luke and I go for a stroll in various period costumes. We admire the architecture and stand on bridges staring at our reflections in the water. When the ice cream truck goes past, we wave our arms above our heads and run to meet it.

On my birthday we string up red lanterns across the terrace. We push the tables back and have a square dance, and Louis Armstrong sings me happy birthday. I wear polka dots. My present is a little shed hidden in the back garden, filled with bookshelves and one comfortable armchair under the window. It is a good gift.

And He Rode Off into the Sunset

While walking home today, I saw an old man in an electric wheely-chair (you know, the kind they advertise on TV for mobility-impaired seniors) cruising down the middle of the street. I did a double-take, thinking maybe he was actually on the sidewalk or against the curb, but no, he was driving down the road--staying in his lane the whole time, of course--at about 3 mph.

I kept walking, not wanting to be rude, but after he passed me I stopped and watched his progress. I wanted to know how his chair would do when he turned into the bumpy driveway or mounted the curb onto the sidewalk. But he never did. He just kept going, straight to the end of the road where he paused at the stop sign and made a right onto one of the busiest streets in town.

I like to think he's made it to the highway by now and has really put on some speed. He's flying across the overpass, skin flapping in the wind, mouth open in a toothless old laugh.

Empty Threats

Sometimes I like to make really elaborate threats to the Freshmen:

"If you girls don't stop chattering, I'm going to seperate you into hard chairs that face the corner and make you read John Grisham novels until your eyes bleed and you beg for mercy, screaming, 'No more football! Please, no more lawyers!'"

Then they stare at me with their perfect, blank eyes and I am forced to summarize, "No, seriously, stop talking."

March = No Time for Blogging

This will hopefully be a short post, just to update you all about a few things:

1. I just got my acceptance email to the Youth Librarianship program at the University of North Texas for the fall. So it's official! Also, I think that sending someone an acceptance email is not nearly as exciting as sending them a letter and forcing them to agonize over the thickness of the envelope and whether they should open it themselves or ask their mom to do it.

2. I got back from Texas last night. I spent quite a bit of time with my extended family, and then my mom and I went to Denton to check out the apartments and houses in the area. Turns out most of the places I was considering are in the ghetto, but overall Denton is much cooler than we expected.

3. My boss is finally back at work after a month of pneumonia, conferences, and state tournaments, and Luke is on Spring Break right now, so maybe I'll get an adequate amount of sleep in the next few weeks.

4. I'm rereading Harry Potter. Again.