Areas of Unrest

13 May 2000 - The Incompleat Biblioholic

QOTD: "Et tu, Billy Bob?" - The Alabama Shakespeare Festival

Reading: Mark Kurlansky, Cod

Listening to: Warren Zevon, Life'll Kill Ya

Before I get to what this entry is really about, there was an interesting article in Florida Today about the Defense Support Program (DSP) in conjunction with Monday's launch of the latest DSP satellite. I supported DSP for a lot of years and the program I work on now is, essentially, a follow-on, so it will give you a little idea about what I do.

As for what I really wanted to write about, I have a confession to make. My name is Miriam and I am a Biblioholic. I thought I had my problem under control. The unread stack was close to 100 and I knew that I'd still indulged in three book binges within the past month. All I really intended to do was buy one paperback mystery at High Crimes (formerly Rue Morgue, with the name change arising from a change of ownership). I needed one book because I only had two with me and I'd read more than 3/4 of one on the flight from LAX to Denver and I'd couldn't risk running out of reading matter on the way back. (Never mind that I also had a couple of puzzle magazines with me.) And I had to go to be sociable, too, because Mary Joan wanted to stock up and we could have dinner somewhere in downtown Boulder and it was so convenient that the store was open late for a signing the night we were there. Oh, you've heard all the excuses, but you know what followed. Two Robert Barnard books I didn't have yet - in hardcover. The next volume in a series or four. Ninety some odd bucks later, they ship so I didn't even walk out with the book for the plane.

Incidentally, we managed to get to Boulder early enough that it was feasible to eat at Jax, a place that normally has too long a wait to be interested in bothering with. Mixed spring lettuces with balsamic vinegar. Chipotle-rubbed trout, accompanied by crawfish-filled chile rellenos (a less than obvious concept but wow!), polenta, black beans, and salsa. Coffee ice cream pie with a chocolate cinnamon crust. Obviously, I was drugged by the combination of spicy and sweet, the complex blending of flavors lowering my resistance, leaving me vulnerable to further acts of self-indulgence.

Which is why there is even less excuse for Thursday. I was trying to be efficient by shopping for a mother's day present in between work and storytelling. Normally, this is easy enough, but Mom's birthday was in January and Lilian Jackson Braun doesn't write fast enough. A moment of inspiration led me to figure out what to get her but it turns out that the toy store in the mall doesn't carry coloring books and the book store was right there, just two levels down. And they did have a cat coloring book and it wasn't my fault that the humor section is right next to the coloring book section and that they shelved Bill Bryson's I'm a Stranger Here Myself there instead of in the travel section. It was just one book for myself, but it's not like it couldn't have waited.

So, can I ask a favor of anyone who knows me in real life? If you hear me mention wanting a book, do whatever you can to distract me. If you see me walking towards a bookstore, grab me and head me off by any means possible. Remind me that we do have libraries for a reason.

I was going to add a bunch of stuff about my particular obsession with completeness and how if I have one book by an author, I often need to have every book by that author. And that is why in my younger, poorer days I never read living authors because that could lead me to buying new books and I could only afford used books. But I have to get to the Beverly Hills Library to tell a story, so I'll continue ranting about biblioholism another time.