Wikipedia

I had another meeting with the librarian in the Second Air Division Memorial Library and now understand what my projects for the year will be! I am going to see about teaming up with the children's library to do some special story times, possibly based around holidays or on the weekend so that older children can attend. And the big project will be coming up with activities to take to schools (or that school groups could come to the library for) relating to the American presence in Norwich during World War II. This will be great experience for me, but history has never been my strongest subject, so I've checked out some more books: The Americans in Norfolk during World War Two, Over Here by Steve Snelling and The Friendly Invasion by Roger A. Freeman.

While I was at the library I met the first person who has thought to ask me how I discovered them. I gave him the short answer: Wikipedia. But, I'll give you the long one. The Ballad of John's LLM, in all it's glory.

It all started a few months ago when I decided to look up "Norwich, England" on Wikipedia. Being from all over highway 316, Georgia, USA I did not know much about Norwich, England and since my husband wanted to go study there for a year at the University of East Anglia I thought I ought to learn something about the place before we moved. Now, I know that people like to disparage Wikipedia as an unreliable source of information and I know that being a librarian I ought to know of all kinds of ways to learn about Norwich, England. And the truth is...I do. I chose Wikipedia.

Now Wikipedia told me all kinds of fun and interesting things about Norwich, England. For instance, East Anglia was the home of Boudica, my favorite barbarian. I suppose the British people don't like for their ancient queens to be referred to as barbarians, but I'm just speaking from a Roman perspective. Anyway, Wikipedia also said that the 2nd Air Division Memorial Library located in Norwich, England has a collection of American books, and seeing as how I am an American, and a librarian, and was soon to be a resident of Norwich, England, I decided to contact them.

I asked this Memorial Library if they might have me as a volunteer.

I won't go into the entire letter I got back, but it went something like this: You seem awesome. But please prove you are not a criminal. We hope it isn't too much trouble. Kind regards.

Trouble? How much trouble could it be? I figured I could just Google "Certificate of Good Conduct" and I'd be on my way to documenting my lack of a criminal history.

Friends, my search had an inauspicious beginning. Google thought I wanted to know how to get paroled. But being a trained information professional I knew exactly how to handle this situation and I handled the situation by typing in "Certificate of Good Conduct -parole" and a few results down I found a US dot gov link.

This is where the trusty US government tells citizens like me what I have to do to prove to foreign countries that I am not a criminal.

On the instructions of the US government, I visited my local police station to get a copy of my criminal history. Now, I knew that the Athens-Clarke County Police Department probably didn't tell other countries that Americans aren't criminals every day. I didn't have any unrealistic expectations of their helpfulness. I knew I'd probably have to explain things slowly and carefully.

So I asked for my criminal history. I said it was because I wanted to volunteer in Norwich, England. They said $12 please. You'll get it in the mail.

And a few days later, in the mail, I received a mostly blank piece of paper that documented my criminal history and was mostly blank because I don't have one.

Then a day or two after that I set forth to get a special seal put on my criminal history. See, that dot gov website explained that just because something is recognized to be official in America, doesn't mean that other countries consider it official. A whole bunch of the countries talked about what to do about this in that Hague convention a while back and the countries that signed the convention agreed that documents would only need one additional seal to be valid. It's got this funny French name "Apostille" because everything sounds more official in French.

The US and the UK both signed the convention so I was feeling pretty confident when I walked into the Secretary of State's Office down in Atlanta. It was that dot gov website that told me the Secretary of State's Office could give me an Apostille. Actually there were two locations listed, but the website for the other place didn't work so I didn't trust them and the Secretary of State's Office website did work and it also said that they could give Apostilles so I figured that I was going to the right place.

My visit to the Secretary of State's Office began inauspiciously. I walked into the suite on the third floor, started telling them my story and they said, "Hold it right there. Ninth floor." So I walked into a different suite on the ninth floor. Started telling them my story and the woman said, "Hold it right there. We don't do Apostilles. That other state office does Apostilles.

"And you need a certified criminal history.

"AND you don't really want an Apostille."

This time I told her to "Hold it." I knew this one. I do want an Apostille. I looked it up.

That woman whipped the list of countries who had signed the Hague Convention out from under her desk like she was taking a gun out of a holster. She folded it up into a paper airplane, threw it, it sailed by my ear, around the room three times, landed on the desk where she slapped it down and pointed with her three inch bejeweled finger nail. "England isn't on the list!"

I picked up the list, folded it into a cootie catcher, popped it back and forth while I said the alphabet through U, the lifted the flap to reveal, "United Kingdom." The UK is on the list. I do need an Apostille.

Now, I could understand looking up England and not the UK. Anyone could make that mistake. But friends, there is no excuse for what next transpired. She made this rewinding sound like she was playing back through "The Ballad of John's LLM" then waved that finger nail in my face and said, "Honey, you said you were going to England."

And perhaps I would have let her live in her ignorant bliss, but then she made a Chinese lantern out of the directions to the state department that does issue Apostilles, and right after she puffed into it so it would unfold into a ball, and laid the delicate paper on her fierce hand, she whispered to me. "When you talk to them. Just remember where you said you were going."

I pulled a scarf out of my mouth with the words written on it so she wouldn't forget: England is IN the United Kingdom. I tied the end of the scarf to the fan so it would billow in the breeze, and I walked out the door.

The next day I went back to the Athens-Clarke County Police Department and told the girl behind the glass that I needed a certified copy of my criminal history. A what? So I told her the whole story of John's LLM and a big question mark floated up above her head. She pointed to the phone on the wall. The voice on the other end gave me the number for the Georgia Bureau of Investigation.

I called up the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. No one answered. Later that day I tried again. A woman picked up and I told her that I needed a certified copy of my criminal history. A what? So I told her the whole story of John's LLM and she put another woman on the phone and that woman's voice sparkled at me as she said. "I can help you. I need $15 and two sets of fingerprints."

I sparkled back at her. "Where do I get fingerprinted?"

"At your friendly neighborhood police department."

Ruts were beginning to form in the road between my apartment and the Athens-Clarke County Police Department. I walked in for the second time that day and this time I said to the woman behind the glass, "I need finger prints."

Without looking up at me she said, "Cards please."

What?

"The cards for the fingerprints. The department requesting fingerprints usually provides specific cards."

The fire coming from my mouth melted the glass between us. "I'm taking time off work and sitting here in the police department. I mean I'm just sitting here in the Athens-Clarke County Police Department trying to get my fingerprints taken so I can get a certified criminal history from the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. And you come at me with this cop jargon about cards. You've got a lot of nerve to act like I got cards from the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. You just saw me this morning. You can't really think I drove all the way to Decatur and back today."

The ice from her breath formed a frozen sheet that replaced the melted glass. "I just don't want you to waste your money."

I called the Georgia Bureau of Investigation back up. I asked for that woman with the sparkley voice. She wasn't there anymore, I had to talk to the woman who answered so I told her the whole story of John's LLM and finally got around to how I had to get fingerprinted but didn't have any cards. She told me I could use the cards at the police department and I told her I was much obliged and returned to the woman behind the ice.

The police department cards are fine.

She built the ice wall a little higher as she exhaled the words, "The fingerprint guy is out to lunch."

By the time I got back there was frost all over the counter. She handed me two Athens-Clarke County Police Department Cards and told me to fill them out. But didn't give me a pen. I filled them out with my pen. The fingerprint guy was a mustachioed Minnesotan who took one look at my cards, shuffled them, cut them, then popped them like he was playing 52 card pick-up minus 50 cards. Do it again. In black ink. He let me borrow his pen.

He recited "this little piggie" as he mashed my fingers one by one onto the scanner. Then he told me not to commit any crimes with my left littlest piggie because it had a really strong print. The words sifted through his mustache like fine flour.

I sent off the cards and the money and to tell you the truth, there's not much of a story after that. Sparkles came through for me with the certified criminal history and that other state department came through with the seal. No more hassle. I'm a bona-fide, Apostille carrying, not-a-criminal.

Friends, I think there are a couple things we could take away from this story. But the most important thing we can take from this story is that Wikipedia is a more reliable source of information than dot gov websites. They don't teach you that in library school. Or at the University of East Anglia.

Wikipedia, people say,
Is unreliable, lead you astray,
But if you're wondering, then hear me
This is what you do for information needs
Don't ask dot gov
They can't help you out
Don't ask dot gov
They will make you shout
If you want to know the answer Wiki-pee-dee-ai-ay
Wiki-pee-dee-ai-ay

Rhyme Time

In the wee hours of the morning I awoke to yelling and banging. My first thought was "Someone in a neighboring flat has fallen down the stairs." As I rolled over in bed I realized John wasn't there. So my next thought was "John has fallen down the stairs." I lay there waking up and trying to decide what to do because if John wasn't seriously hurt he would probably rather I ignore his fall. Then I remembered why John wasn't in bed. He was staying up to watch the presidential debate. 9pm Eastern standard time. 2am our time. I asked myself for a moment if anything else could cause yelling and banging. Myself answered yes. I decided, while lying in the dark of the bedroom upstairs, that John was trying to keep himself occupied until the debate started by playing Mario Kart. And he was losing. I opened the bedroom door and came down the stairs where I did not find John in a pitiful pile of arms and legs. I opened the door to the living room to find John playing Mario Kart with the television volume down very low. I told him I had come to turn the radiators down. Oh and also, his Mario Kart exclamations had made me think he had fallen down the stairs. I didn't hear him again.

This afternoon I went to a Tiny Tots Rhyme Time in the children's area of the Millennium Library. I just observed today but I will be helping out with some Rhyme Times in the future. The children in attendance were infants and toddlers. So, some of them said the rhymes and did the actions along with the librarians, and some bounced on mum's knee while she helped them out. The program was all rhymes with one board book of the Incey Wincey Spider. The librarians handed out some rattles and other noise making devices at the beginning and also handed puppets and stuffed animals to the children after they were done using them during the program. When it was over they collected everything. Rhyme Time started with quieter finger play rhymes and progressed to marching and wiggly jiggly rhymes. I recognized about half of them, but even of the ones I knew there were usually some differences.

I like horsey rhymes, so I'll transcribe for you the one we did today (new to me):

Horsey Horsey, don't you stop
Just let your feet go clipperty clop
Your tail goes swish
And the wheels go round
Giddy up, we're homeward bound

Horsey Horsey, on your way
You've made the journey many a day
Your tail goes swish
And the wheels go round
Giddy up, we're homeward bound

On Friday I am going to pirate party to celebrate National Bookstart Day. The National Bookstart program provides free books to children, and they have just added a new package for preschool age children that looks like a treasure chest.

While I was at the library I was also able to check out my first books (since my library card finally arrived in the mail this week). I got Just Henry by Michelle Magorian. (Expect a review of this book in my other blog.) Just Henry is on a reading list for a young adult reading group I will be attending in November. I discovered that the Millennium Library has a huge music collection so I also checked out a guitar book, just to mix things up with my regular practice.

Cool Club

Today I went to a reading group for visually impaired children at the local primary school.

Of course this wouldn't be a proper Sarah-Beth-goes-to-a-new-place story if it didn't include me getting lost. Which I did. Since I am obviously aware of my directional problems you would think that I would have scoped out the route ahead of time. I did. I still got lost today.

But getting lost wasn't nearly as big of a problem as not being able to get into the school. I walked up to the gate at the front entrance to find it closed and locked. There was a sign saying that they didn't want people walking through the playground (which is at the front of the school) so pedestrians needed to walk around to the other entrance. I walked around to another entrance. There was another gate, but this one was open. I walked up to the school. All the doors into the school had children sitting in front of them. They all appeared to be classrooms. I was not about to just walk into a classroom. I was getting rather frantic at this point. I walked back outside the gate to regroup. I noticed a sign with the school name and phone number on it. So, I called up the school, told them who I was, why I was there, and that I couldn't figure out how to get in. Once the woman on the phone realized which entrance I was talking about she told me to walk back through the gate so she could see me on the security camera. Then so told me to walk up to one of the doors and push the buzzer, she would let me in. The children on the inside held the door for me and giggled. I apologized to the teacher and quickly left the room. The receptionist met me in the hallway and took me to where the reading group was meeting.

The group was made up of five girls who all appeared to be about 10 or 11 years old. Three of them talked about books they had read: The Mum Mystery and The Making of May by Gwyneth Rees, and Fruit and Nutcase by Jean Ure. Of those three, two of the girls gave quite good short summaries and opinions of their books. The third had written up a several page summary in her journal. If in the coming years she has a middle school teacher anything like the one I had in 6th grade she is off to a great start!

After talking about the books they had read, they all started working on letters to Jacqueline Wilson. She is their favorite author and they had asked to her come visit them, but unfortunately she has recently suffered a heart attack and isn't feeling up for a visit.

These girls have named themselves the "Cool Club." They meet about once a month to talk about the books they read and in addition to loving Jacqueline Wilson, they all love horses. They just made themselves t-shirts. They all have a slightly different design, but each one has the names of all the group members and a picture of a horse.

When I left the school I exited through the front door and discovered that I could get off the grounds through the car park. But from the car park I could not get to the road the front entrance is on, so you guessed it, I got lost again. Yet, you can see that I did find my way home.

The Pigeon Mafia

John and I took a day trip to London yesterday. We didn't really have the time or money to stay overnight but we wanted to see some of the sights. We focused on the Westminster area so we could see the statues of Boudicea and Admiral Nelson.



When I was in middle school I used to watch the Animaniacs on television right before going out to catch the bus every morning. In addition to the antics of Wakko, Yakko, and Dot, the show had shorts like Pinkey and the Brain (which later became its own show) and Goodfeathers. Now that I live around so many pigeons, I can see the truth in the latter short cartoon (the truth being that there is a pigeon mafia).

On Saturday John and I were walking down a new route we have found to get into town. I looked back at John and saw that a bird had pooped on his jacket without him even noticing. Then, in London on Sunday a very large pigeon with a double chin approached us. He said, "What happened to you yesterday, my friend, that was a shame. I certainly wouldn't want anything like that to happen again. My associates and I, we can offer you protection. It only costs you a few bread crumbs. What is a few bread crumbs to keep your jacket looking nice?"

Guess where we went!

Lappy

Some people are mystified by computers. When their computer malfunctions they imagine that the machine has turned against them. I can't claim to exactly be computer savvy, but I know that everything happens for a reason. And I knew that when Lappy refused to let me past the log in screen yesterday, it was probably my fault.

Yesterday morning, while eating my daily bowl of cereal, I was checking my e-mail. The updates icon started jumping and instead of clicking on "remind me later" as I have been doing for months, I said, "What the heck." But about five minutes into the update process I changed my mind. I really wanted to read my e-mail right then. And the updates were taking a long time. I clicked the red x. Nothing happened. I tried alt, open-apple, esc. Nothing happened. I pushed the power button. Lappy turned off. Good, now I was back on track for checking e-mails. But when Lappy came back on and I tried to sign in, the screen changed like I was going to get in to my computer and then....no, back to the log in screen. John says one of the updates probably affected the log in and I didn't let it finish updating, so it got stuck.

I drew myself some pictures of what firewire cable endings look like and rode into town by myself. (John was too sore to ride his bike anymore and I didn't want to walk.) I actually managed to buy all the correct things and kept them from flying out of my basket with the bungee cords John got for me the other day!

Today, Lappy is still not better, but I have high hopes. John is a computer genius man. And I....I am gaining proficiency the hard way.

Don't Eat That!

On the day that John graduated from law school we grabbed some food at a sandwich shop with Heath and Kelly. We were sitting outside. John had ordered some kind of pie and eaten most of it. The last bite of pie was just sitting there on his plate while we kept talking. I thought he was full and wasn't going to eat it. So when a fluffy fuzz ball floated by on the breeze and landed on his pie, I didn't say anything at first. But then, without warning, John scooped up the pie on his fork. I said, "There's a fuzzy thing..." Too late, he ate it. He ate it and was wondering what kind of fuzzy thing he had also eaten. He told me that in the future I needed to start my warning with "Don't eat that!"

Tonight while John and I were eating cookies, I thought a crumb from the cookie I was eating fell on the floor. I reached to the floor and picked up a large crumb but it wasn't from the cookie I was eating so I determined that it had been on the floor for more than a day. I set it on the table. Not a minute later, John picked up the crumb off the table and said, "You missed this." It was moving towards his mouth. I quickly shouted, "Don't eat that! It was on the floor." This time it worked.

But let's talk about food that is edible. This week I have cooked chicken masala (my favorite so far), Mexican pizza for which I had to make my own refried beans, and spaghetti with chicken (I didn't have to look that one up).