No money, no hair

They got a message from the action man. When does a spreadsheet become obsolete? A simple one. You know, say, of a DVD collection. Title. Year. Genre. Note. Seems sufficient. No? Sordid details following. I downloaded and installed a 30-day free trial of FileMaker Pro 8.5. I'm looking into a cataloging project for a local collector of old maps. Seemed simple enough. Even for me. Download the trial version, test it a bit, kick the tires, tool around a little. So I undertook to catalog my DVDs. More than a sortable list. Less than fully-cataloged records. No subject access. But actor and director access! Fewer than 20 Alfred Hitchcock films into it, and I was sold. I am buying the full version. I uploaded images of the movie posters into each record. Totally cool! Like way chilly! Oh no, don't say it's true. I must now learn how to customize templates. For the maps, and for my PEZ collection. Well, the dispensers anyway. I simply won't catalog the candy. Especially the grape ones. I see clearly in my mind, catalog records for my PEZ buddies, complete with digital images. I do promise to address the dearth of frivolity, you may recall. I shall not set them up in little dioramas though, as had been suggested by a valuable friend. Though the idea of equipping my Star Wars Pez characters with light sabers and blasters was initially spine-tingling, I'll stick to stark minimalist backgrounds. Besides, I'm nowhere near talented enough to photoshop the light effects. It would look lame. Did I just use "photoshop" as a verb? I did, Dear Reader, I did. Oh no, not again. The little green wheels are following me. Ziggy said so.

Held by...

Briefly, as I head into the weekend. And the Eugene Fantasy Baseball Draft on Sunday. Dream analysis assistance requested. Feebly. Plodding through the mire on wobbly legs that melt al dente into the clayey muck. Everything chasing me is gaining ground. All too rapidly. Never quite reaching me. I'm only dreaming a bad dream I dream I tell myself in my dream. Is this too but a dream? Wake up! It stopped. Three. Ante meridian. What's that at the front door? Someone's trying to break into my apartment. New panic. Grab the phone. Quick. Fingers and thumbs the size of fists. Why are these buttons so dang tiny? I manage to push them. Not 9-1-1 as I want, but 9-4-9. I am a cataloger afterall.

Oregonian profile

"Tim Burton, Matt Groening, Berke Breathed. Hockey pucks. Pedestrians and cell phones. American literature, Individual authors, 1961-2000. Taxes. Scanning." Must remember. Well, Dear Reader, I don't have to. It would be nice though. These are the scrawlings on the too-long-neglected 3 x 5 recycled shelflist card I use for jotting down possible topics to write about in this space. Notice I did not write "blog" about. There are two asterisks. One precedes "Tim," the other, "American." Must be a connection. Let's see. Oh yeah! Tim, Matt and Berke are authors, some of whose works are in my library. The American literature fragment is straight from the PS volume of the Library of Congress classification schedules. It is all clear now. Those three guys' works all entered my library with PZ call numbers. I just don't like that schedule, so I assigned PS author numbers to each of them, and shelflisted their works into my collection. "Hockey pucks" has got to be a reminder of my son and I scampering through the stands at ice hockey games chasing the hard rubber projectiles that fly over the glass. We were just practicing for foul balls when baseball season begins. I scored three in a losing effort. He grabbed five. They're great for holding down maps I'm cataloging. It has been a long time since I last posted. I must have scribbled the word "taxes" when I was preparing mine. My meager refund arrived the week before last. I have come to enjoy walking on a sidewalk, another pedestrian coming toward me, text messaging someone or playing Space Invaders, or doing whatever someone must do while out walking with a portable communication device. It's sort of like a game of chicken, except I am in complete control. I stay to the right, as all civilized people do, and watch as they get closer. A few steps from a collision, I shuffle a foot or clear my throat. Startled, they clumsily lurch out of the way. I'm not trying to be malicious, just making a statement. I'm not quite sure just what that statement is, or should be. But I'm making it. "Scanning." OK. That one is still fresh in my mind. I have been taking a few books, almost every day, into the library, scanning the covers, and uploading the images to my library catalog. Sometimes it is the works of a particular author. Sometimes a type of book. Maybe a set of books. They may be selected based upon the shelf on which they reside. Tomorrow I'll be scanning L'Avarre through The Time Machine, around The Octopus and back to Germinal. Now we're all caught up Dear Reader. And I can recycle this 3 x 5 card, and start another.