My job is absolutely fantastic. I get to help people find books to inspire them and hopefully make a positive difference in their lives. It's wonderful!
The building our store is in has its issues though.
There was a problem with the furnace for a while. It didn't work. But that got fixed, thanks to a dude who climbed up on the roof and flipped a switch up there (at least that's what he told us he did). One of the doors has a difficult time closing--it catches on its spring or whatever and then slowly, ever so slowly, makes its way back to the shut position, just in time for someone to open it again. We are located next to a nail salon, and some days (like today) the smell of the salon makes its way into our store and dude, it stinks. It's been really really strong twice now.
Speaking of our location, we also share a building with this weight-loss place that is never very busy except every once in a while there will be numberless cars in front of it; and I have no idea why. There's a wig shop too, a plasma donation center, and some other things. It's great.
But this morning, we found a large spot on the carpet where water had leaked through the ceiling over the weekend. There was water on one of our display tables too, one holding $30.00 books. But somehow, inexplicably, the water hadn't touched any of the books. Oh it was close in some places, mere millimeters away, but it didn't get the books.
I dreamt that we really needed to find someone to give a refrigerator and a dryer to. It was crucial that we do this, so when J woke me up to help take care of little Jack, I wanted to ask her who we should give these appliances to so I could figure it all out in my dream. I was stuck on that thought, and felt very anxious to resolve the problem...
The magic is gone:
Have you ever noticed when shopping somewhere where they print your savings on your receipt, that when the checker circles your savings they seemingly don't have a writing instrument in their hands. I noticed this all the time at Smith's. And every time it happened I would think, "Ah! They must have a pencil lead stuck to the end of their finger that they use to circle these things. Next time I come I'm going to pay closer attention and see if I can see how they hide that tiny pencil, or maybe even pen." But then the next time I would go, I'd forget until the magic occurred again. As it turns out (and this is something I've learned at work, because we circle savings on our receipts, after all at Seagull you never, and I mean NEVER pay full price...), receipt paper is made of carbon stuff that shows marks on it when pressure is applied, so the pressure from, say, a fingernail could leave what appeared to be a pencil or ink mark.
Perhaps that's really more magic than the tiny writing thing taped to the finger. I mean, seriously, that would just be obvious. THIS, my friends, is true magic at work. Paper that doesn't require a pen!
Sometimes my kids say really funny things.
Like Morgan (Mini #2) who says all his f's as s's, so the word funny is pronounced sunny.
So we rang in the new year. J worked, so I was home with Mini Holdinator #3 (1 and 2 were asleep) when the two-hour delayed film of the ball dropping played on TV.
I have no idea what 2009 holds in store, but if you'll bear with with (endure it well friends), I've really been thinking a lot about New Years ten years ago.
Ten years ago I celebrated New Years at the Wilk on BYU campus. I don't know if they still do this, but back then there was a huge multi-stake dance at BYU on New Years Eve for the youth. I distinctly remember talking with my friend Yvonne about how this next year would be huge.
For one thing, I knew that I'd be graduating from high school. Somehow high school graduation seemed like one of the most significant transitions I could make. And it turned out it was.
I also knew that by the end of the year I'd be serving a mission somewhere ... it turned out to be Michigan. But that change, from no responsibilities punk to full-time ecclesiastical work, was pretty daunting to consider.
But as it turned out, there was one thing that happened that year that has had more profound influence on the past ten years than anything else.
It was a hike to the Y.
From that vantage point I struck up a conversation with a kid from Southern California who was planning on starting a punk band when his friend (who played bass) moved up to Utah that summer. They would need a drummer, and I agreed to play with them and see how things worked out.
Things worked out pretty well with that band; we became best friends, and through those associations I met J.