Lovely Girl came racing up the sidewalk after school the other day, just bursting to tell me about...her library book. (Yep. Her library book. We here at Chez Wheedleton are Unapologetic Book Fiends.)
Specifically, she was bursting to tell me about choosing her library book: See, she was perusing the shelves, just meandering, until a book, any book at all, caught her eye.
And then, she saw it.
Was it a title she'd been eagerly looking for?
Not this time.
Was it the fantastic illustration on the cover?
Nope.
Was it the shiny gold lettering on the spine?
Sort of.
This is the title as she saw it that day, sitting innocently on her school library bookshelf:
Lovely Girl snatched that book up without even cracking it open. She couldn't get to the check out desk fast enough. In fact, she didn't even notice that the book is by an author she loves until she got home and pulled it out of her backpack to show it to me.
Sticker placement coincidence?
Or a very clever librarian?
We may never know.
1 Comments on Those Wily Librarians, last added: 10/16/2010
This is one of my buddies. Charlie. Right smack on top of what I was trying to draw.
He doesn't care. Its warm there under the lamp, and he has my FULL attention. I don't mind so much when I'm just doing sketches, but when I'm working on a finish it can be a little dicey. Claw marks on a colored pencil piece, or paw prints in paint are not easy fixes.
But what would we do without our studio helpers?
He's also the one who gets under the covers at night and kneads my leg (owww owww owww, but in a good way). He knows every nook and cranny of the neighbors' yards, and comes home with mysterious "plant doo-doo" on him: funny little burrs, needles, stickery things, none of which exist in his own yard.
He's addicted to Bonito flakes which of course one can only get at the Japanese market that's aaaaaaaalllllll the way across town. (I buy them in bulk, not in the little tubs you get at Petco, its cheaper that way.) But that's OK, it gets me out of the house and I actually bought a rice cooker last time I was there, but I digress.
Any minute now he'll be ringing the bell on the front door to be let in (or more likely it will be just as I get into the shower, requiring me to answer the door with a towel on). Maybe I should just make him his own key...
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The Telling Poo! Ha ha. That's a riot, Kim.
Actually, I've read The Telling POOL and it's great. I'd be happy to lend you my copy, if I ever saw you!