What I brought home from the library today:
The immediate excuse for dashing into the library on the way from school to piano was an email announcing a book I had requested had arrived. You can retrace my steps:
Stop 1, the new books wall: small-print study of the realities behind the romanticized Blue Ridge Parkway; the bookish equivalent of Chex Mix; Life of Elmo; "completely waterproof" "this book is not a tree" book full of less scary ways to clean things.
Stop 2, the land of 746: Knitting on the Edge, The Joy of Spinning, Alterknits.
Stop 3, the circulation desk, where the skinny book in the middle, Nancy Crow's Improvisational Quilts, plucked from the shelves of the big downtown branch and delivered to my local, is waiting for me.
Have I mentioned how much I love my public library?
