A deviation from cooking: the LAPL.

Posted on by Jennie

Last night, Corelyn and I went to the Los Angeles Public Library because I had a book on hold, and she needed to get a library card. I know, it’s ridiculous that she didn’t have one yet. Don’t worry, I told her so.

We went in, and I picked up my book, while she attempted to get a library card. This did not go so well. The woman at the counter told Corelyn she needed something official with her address on it (since her license had her newer address written on the back, which is what the LA DMV people tell you to do!) So we left, almost defeated, and went to the car, where we scrounged around for something with her address on it. We found her registration for her car, and headed back in. This time, we had help from a different woman, and when this woman needed help from the first library women, the first woman looked at us questionably. “You’re giving her a library card,” she asked. Clearly she did not realize we had gone back to get something with the address. I felt like I was in first grade again, getting yelled at for walking my friend A to the nurse’s office, after being told I couldn’t go myself. (I loved going to the nurse’s office, but that’s a story for another time.)

Meanwhile, we assured everyone we had the piece of official address-bearing mail, and the process went on. It took a while. Within this time, a boy next to us asked the first woman (who had helped us originally) if she was ok, “Because you look a little pale.” He was about 11 years old: she was not pleased.

The whole point of this story was to tell you about the fact that we went looking around the library after we got her card, and we found the audio book section, and I found…the most amazing thing in this universe.

“Hey Corelyn, look! Barack’s books!”

“Cool!”

“I wonder who reads them?” I look on the front.

“THEY ARE READ BY THE AUTHOR!!” (I put this in caps to emphasize that I said this in a clearly too-loud-for-the-library voice.)

I proceeded to rent one. It is marvelous. Yes, in fact, Mr. President, I would like to listen to you read your book for 7 and a half hours about your father and family. Thanks for understanding that.

When we went home, I told Jeff, and Lauren and Drew, and then Corelyn later told them all again. Clearly we were  excited.

I love you, Mr. President. I am excited to hear about your life. Here goes.


 

Yum
 

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