I Make Friends With P. the Librarian

P. is the head librarian at the local library out here in the country. Her husband B. is the head librarian in the next town over. I haven't gotten around to finding out if they met because they're both librarians, or if they became librarians together. We're not that familiar yet.

P. and I bonded over our passion for HBO original programming. Actually, it's dramatic series in general. I was trying to place holds for complete season disc sets of "The Sopranos," and I kept getting single discs (like "Episode 4, Season 3), which did me no good, since I was looking to get hooked. P. showed me the trick - only the librarians know it - of how to get full disc sets. So we set me up for Seasons 1-3. And we talked about "The West Wing," which we'd both just finished watching (all 7 seasons). In the midst of the mix-up - single discs kept showing up - P. really paid attention, trying to get me my full season. When it finally came in, she left me a long message on my answering machine, and even gave me her home #. She really wanted to make sure I got my Sopranos. Country people are sure nice.

More nice news: my car, which was stolen off the street in the Bronx two weeks ago, has been recovered. I had a voicemail message from Officer Garcia at the 40th precinct. They found it in Yonkers, I have to go pick it up Monday. The report says the only damage is the driver's side lock, but I'll have to see for myself. It was stolen in broad daylight, around the corner from our building. Probably kids going for a joy ride. Maybe they drove it until it ran out of gas. The EZ-Pass is apparently still in there. I'm curious to see if they ate my Kashi cereal and took my books-on-tape (Evelyn Waugh and Robert Stone).

Fireworks down on Brook Road. We can hear 'em but can't see 'em. The weekend boys who ride around on four-wheelers, my guess. My pup is shivering in the bathroom, wouldn't even come out for a hunk of leftover burger. We made Shake Shack style cheeseburgers, grilled eggplant, and grilled corn on the Smoky Joe. A taste of the city, country-style.