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It's day four of my sitting back at my desk after having been away for several weeks to spend important time with friends and family. All the same bright stars are here - more of them, actually - doing incredibly diligent, insightful work with and for libraries and library staff. Through their work they create and support change for our profession, and it's good change too: another librarian signed up for their first RSS feed; another library with a completed technology plan.

Having been away, I admit that I find myself somewhat disconnected from some parts of the overall effort. Sure, I'm floating about, making various remarks, each accompanied by a CRH jest, smirk, or toss of the hair. Honestly, it hasn't been too terribly difficult to dive back into projects and conversations, do what I do, what some like to call "be Chrystie Hill." But behind all that - it's as if I'm watching myself from above - I feel as if I'm about to cross a new threshold, but I don't know what's exactly I'm crossing over into. (I can hear George,and Marilyn, and Clayton, and others saying as they read this "Don't do it Chrystie - walk away from the light!")

Not to worry. I'm not leaving library land, nor what I still claim to be the best job in library land. On the contrary, the threshold involves some new ... let's call it perspective, but that's not the right word ... clarity? ... about "what's important," and it really is very simple: at the end of the day we all should be able to say that we are working to change libraries so that they matter more. (Don't say we already matter. We don't matter enough.) As a profession, we should be of single mind on this (or something like it) and all of our efforts should map to a vision - call me Utopian - where all libraries are relevant and thriving.

At the very least, I know that's why I care about my job, and that's why I come to work every day. Being away reminded me of the simplicity of it, really, and I'm hoping I can stay clear on this as I immerse myself back into the details and the complexities of our work. (Ever the optimist; I know, I know.)

Hello Libraryland. It is great to be back.

I had the joy of seeing Anne Lamott speak last night at the Baghdad theater where she talked about her new book, Grace (Eventually), life and answered her own questions.



And while I don't consider myself religious so much as spiritual, many of things she had to say about learning to forgive resonated. It's hard not to envy, it's hard not to hold on to old gripes and it's hard not to talk yourself too seriously. It is not, however, hard to listen to someone who can make you laugh while being candid about the failings within us all.

Thank you, Anne, for sharing. And hank you, Powells, for giving me the chance for free. (Next time I'll have to get there earlier so I'm not in the last row, struggling to see over/around people's heads.)

I highly suggest checking out the book, and hopefully I'll get a chance to discuss it here with you. This post, however, will not be the place as I'm suffering from computer burnout today and desperately need to alleviative it by going outside.

So instead of intellectual discussion I give you proof that I did indeed grow from that small little thing with a book bag into something resembling an adult who can take a picture without always making a face. You can thank the Boss Lady for the photo and the clucks that led to its immediate posting.



The paleness is due to the fact that basement bookstores are the antithesis of sun-filled parks. Blah, blah, blah, something about direct sunlight hurting books and vampire salesgirls, blah, blah, blah... Read the rest of this post