Library fines still count...

In these tight economic times, I've decided to spend a lot more time at my local library - that would be the Raleigh Court library close enough to Patrick Henry to attract high school loiterers who daren't enter.

As with every time I enter a library, I am bowled over at the amount of free media, from books to movies to audio books and comics. I often kick myself in the pants for failing to take full advantage of these public resources more often. I spot books that I've bought sitting on the shelves mocking me, or other books I've delayed reading because I haven't saved up the money to buy them yet.

And so, I've become an avid library shopper, using their every resource to the point where I know the employees and they recognize and greet me when I enter. Having come from Arizona State, I wasn't used to the idea that something could be unavailable, which I find is often the case at the tiny Raleigh Court branch. Yet fear not, due to the wonder that is inter-library loan, I simply request books from other libraries and they are delivered - just for me - the the Raleigh Court branch. I get an email when they're ready to be picked up, and I feel like one of those giddy people at the post office picking up a package.

As you might imagine, I begin to feel a little guilty for enjoying all of this and giving very little back (save for the zillion or so tax dollars I've given Uncle Sammy without an itemized receipt). I entertained donating, and promised myself that I'd strongly think about it when I'm not hip-deep in copies of The New Yorker, graphic novels, DVDs, and hardcover books.

And then I discovered how to check my late fees online. Hmmmm. And all this time I erroneously believed that they were just really lenient on when I returned their stuff. It rings in somewhere around $20 for the last couple of months, still one heck-of-a bargain. Having asked the guy manning the counter when they'd come to collect, he told me that - until it reaches $25 - there's no time limit. So I certainly don't mind handing over a coupla tenners every now and then when I've gotten so much out of their services.

But let's be clear: I now consider my late fees a fitting donation.

Looking for survey respondents

While this may seem a little unorthodox, I'd like to mention that I'm conducting research for a writing project, and still need survey respondents.

Does anyone know of somewhere in the Roanoke Valley where I could set up a booth free or cheap and offer $1 per person to fill out my survey? It takes a whopping 5 minutes, and this used to work back at ASU, so I figure it would be worth a shot if I knew where to go. I though about the fair, but the "merchant night" or whatever it was called has already passed.

Anyway, if any of my wonderful readers would like to take said survey, I am giving away two $50 Amazon gift cards once I have all the data I need.

It's at:
http://tinyurl.com/nax52p

As for more stories of tramping Roanoke, check back later in the week and hear about my Fourth of July adventures.

Geocaching Roanoke: Day One

I'm sure you've heard about geocaching. It's where you take your GPS, plug in coordinates, and take an adventure to find hidden containers in or around your area. Sometimes they have cool trinkets in them to swap out with your own; other times you sign a logbook or put in geocaching coins that travel all over. Almost any area has them - sometimes several of them.

Ironically, www.geocaching.com is a great place to start. Normally, of course, the last place you go when looking for info on something is the .com address of the subject (as many visitors to whitehouse.com have found out). But in this case, the geocaching site is really all you need to get started.

Well, you also need a GPS, which we have. It's a model meant for car travel - nothing fancy. Not really meant for traveling by foot, but we've used it in that capacity in DC, so off we went.
There were three geocaches in our immediate area, and since some of them have to be sought out with some old-fashioned creativity, I figured we'd keep it close to home.

Alas, we've come from the desert, so we set out with shorts and flip-flops: not advisable. Our first geocache was very likely in the hollow of a tree. I say "likely" because I only went as close as flip-flops in pouring rain could take me. Amid briars and sloshing around a pound of dead grass that had embedded itself in my flops, I wasn't able to find the cache.

The wife also insisted we bring the girls - our poodle and Staffordshire terrier, Maddie and Trisha. They had about as much faith in our mission as we did after several minutes of searching within the confines of our attire.

The second cache was no different, requiring crossing a six foot wide stream full of mud after wading through foot-high grass for a while.

We found out that the GPS might not be up to the task, though it's absolutely vital for road trips, of course.

The third cache was what geocachers call "muggled" meaning that someone took it, likely thinking that they were in luck to find a coffee can full of trinkets.

Next time, I'm wearing boots, jeans, and gloves, waiting for a nicer day, and renting a suitable GPS from Roanoke Parks and Rec. Then perhaps I'll have something a little more exciting and a little less comical to report.

NIA: Neat, but not for me

Often willing to try new things, I was interested enough when my wife read the description of a new class at the Brambelton Center put on by Parks and Rec. NIA, she read, stands for Non-Impact Aerobics and is a mix of yoga, dance, and martial arts. While I dance the same or less than your average guy in his 30s (which means not too much), the yoga and martial arts intrigued me.

Sure, I figured it would prove a little female-heavy, based on the description. But when I showed up at the Brambelton Center Monday night, I discovered I was the ONLY dude in the mix, not to mention the youngest.

Minutes later, while flapping my arms around like a drunken monkey, listening to the latest CD from Rainforest Cafe, I understood the demographic perfectly. I belonged there about as much as I belong in the YWCA or the WNBA.

I hung in there for about half an hour, pulling moves like "clean the cobwebs", "catch the ball", and "carry the pale" with a reservation not lost on the instructor. Quickly, she came after me to shoo me from my back corner of the room, and managed to coral me right out the door and into the Teen Center. Much more comfortable there.

I waited for my wife on the other side of the wall, still hearing the shouts and ululations and feeling immensely thankful I wasn't the one expected to make them.

My wife liked it, and did really well, despite perpetually sneaking glances my way to make sure I hadn't chewed my wrist open or faked a heart attack to get out of there.

After class, a woman dabbing herself with a towel said: "You're a brave man." I told her I didn't feel too brave, having left in the middle of it. "Men try it every now and then," she said. "None have ever made it through a whole class."

Feeling a little better about ranking completely average among my intrepid brethren who've attempted NIA, I went home feeling only a little sillier than when I'd gotten there.

Yard Saling: Our Annual Sale

It's that time of year: time to clear out the basement of leftover stuff, gather bits of unimportant items about the house, and have our own yard sale.

The other side of the fence is nothing new, since we have a sale once a year, and sometimes one that goes for two weekends. I try hard to follow my own advice and make my signs big and plentiful, my prices reasonable, and have lots of change and a positive attitude.

Saturday began around 6am, with people arriving about 630am as the signs went up. I placed stickers on as many items as possible, hurriedly getting as many items from the cardboard boxes onto the huge computer tables so no one had to (or would) route through the boxes willy nilly.

As expected, my media sold well: books, DVDs, and VHS (the latter only slightly so). I refused the inevitable early-on bulk buyer who wanted all the DVDs at a bargain in hopes of getting more in the long run.

Alas, Saturday ended with filing a police report when a woman who had lingered about the DVDs for an hour and a half we later found had been pulling the disks from the cases and stuffing them into her one DVD purchase. Not sure how an hour and a half of anyone's time is worth $10 in DVDs at the price of one's dignity and character as well, but perhaps she'll be blessed with a few flat tires and halitosis for some time. Karma is a funny thing.

Sunday skirted the potential thunderstorms, though always a slower yard sale-ing day on the Bible Belt. It ended fairly well, with only a few boxes heading to Goodwill and a stop at Deb's Lemonade to round out an exhausting but pleasant weekend of downsizing.

What advice might I have for others having their sales? While my Spanish is awful, I sealed one sale by employing what little I know. Other times, a tepid buyer came through with a little friendly banter.

So be nice, familiar, and remember what that not everyone is the same as you'll be when going to sales, but almost all (save my DVD snatcher) are good people just looking for a little distraction and a few bargains.