I consider the absolute ridiculousness of my situation. I am standing outside in the cold at 8 am. I have been here since 7 am. Weather.com told me it was going to 65 degrees today, and I wasn't cold when I left my house in jeans, two shirts, and a sweatshirt. But after about twenty minutes just standing, it was feeling bitter cold. I went to bed after 2 am, and I got up before 7 to stand in this godforsaken line with who knows how many hundreds of people. Not only that, but I have a big paper due today. The paper that is my entire grade in my statistics class. I have what I estimate to be about three-quarters of it done. I worked on it yesterday, but not enough, because I decided I wanted to go to the grad student Halloween party (which turned out to be very fun as it involved much dancing, but it took a few precious hours of my last 24 before the paper was due). So now I am on little sleep because I was out (not working on my paper), and I am standing outside in line freezing my butt off, again not working on my paper.
Why am I in line? I want basketball tickets. I didn't do the whole football thing here, but I like college basketball, so I convinced five of my friends to buy tickets with me. (That's right, BUY tickets. This is no Rice where turnout at athletic events is so low they have to make it free and still can't get anyone to come). I have all their IDs and checks with me in the cold, while they are probably sleeping in their warm beds. I bet none of them have a huge semester paper due today.
We have moved all of about 100 yards in the past hour. And there are still hundreds of people ahead of me. People are walking by who have gotten through the line and gotten their tickets. They all got here between 5 and 5:30 am. Well, gosh, I should've just come here after the party and slept here instead of going home. Many of them have chairs, beanbags, blankets, and pillows, apparently to help them make it through the cold wait. I apparently missed the memo on showing up at 5:30 to get tickets. Since when is Notre Dame basketball a big deal? They've only sold out the student section once in the whole history of Notre Dame. So why would I camp out?
I apparently also missed the memo on how to dress. Everyone is wearing a hooded sweatshirt. I am quite jealous of them, as the hooded sweatshirt seems to be keeping their heads nice and warm. I debate in my head whether I should have spent an extra two minutes blow drying the rest of my hair. I might be slightly warmer, but I also might be further back in line. My only consolation is thinking that being cold burns more calories, so really by standing in the cold I am just looking better and better for my bridesmaid's dress for my friend's wedding in May.
Right.
I already decided to skip my morning class to work on my paper that is due. But now it looks like I'll be skipping my morning class because of this line. Alas.
After what seems like forever (and actually is about three hours), we are very near the front. In fact, I am only ten people from the front. And then the security guards come out... "We are completely sold out of tickets. Sorry. Go home."
WHAT?!?!? I just spent THREE HOURS in line, for nothing? Three cold, cold hours, on little sleep, putting off a major paper... and they are SOLD OUT? You've got to be kidding me. If I had gotten here all of ten minutes earlier, I would in all certainty have gotten tickets. If this is someone's idea of a cruel joke, well... it sure was cruel! It's now 10 am and I have way too much to do today.
I just emailed my paper in a few minutes ago. My head hurts, probably because I'm tired and I haven't eaten anything since the Luna bar I had in line this morning around 7:15 AM. Time to go home and eat and sleep. And be bitter about psycho Notre Dame fans.
Thursday, October 28, 2004
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
Seasons are overrated
People always say that in Houston there aren't any seasons. I always thought that was a silly statement. It still was colder in the fall and spring than in the summer, and colder in the winter than the fall and spring. In winter, Houstonians still don sweaters and for a portion of the winter even jackets. The fall and spring are warm and bearable. The summer is sweltering. Clearly, there are seasons, just tilted more towards the warm end of things.
Still, after four years of living in Houston, I was looking forward to northern seasons again. I looked forward to having a real winter wardrobe. Or more correctly, I looked forward to not having to wear my same summer wardrobe for eight months. I looked forward to leaves changing, and snow. I looked forward to enjoying warm food in the cold weather. And just, having real, northern seasons!
After 2.5 months of being here in the Bend, I am already sick of seasons. First, seasons involve cold. Cold is overrated. It's just COLD. I like my flip flops (and so do my feet!). I'm already tired of closed toed shoes. Not to mention that I don't own any shoes that will make it in winter snow. My hands already get cold when I type sometimes. I don't have thick enough warm-up pants to walk to the gym in when it's chilly. IIt's going to be a loooong winter.
Second, seasons create a lot of hassle. In Houston, I left my clothes out pretty much year round. Sure, in the summer I could put away a few of my sweaters, but most of my clothes were wearable throughout the year. (ie my short sleeve shirts still got use in January). Here, I recently had to go through the arduous process of bringing out all my sweaters and packing up most of my short sleeve shirts, tank tops, and short skirts. That's just a hassle. I also had to pack up stuff like the fan in my room (since everything here is NOT air conditioned).
In my opinions, seasons are overrated. Give me warm weather and flip flops every day, and I'll keep being happy.
Still, after four years of living in Houston, I was looking forward to northern seasons again. I looked forward to having a real winter wardrobe. Or more correctly, I looked forward to not having to wear my same summer wardrobe for eight months. I looked forward to leaves changing, and snow. I looked forward to enjoying warm food in the cold weather. And just, having real, northern seasons!
After 2.5 months of being here in the Bend, I am already sick of seasons. First, seasons involve cold. Cold is overrated. It's just COLD. I like my flip flops (and so do my feet!). I'm already tired of closed toed shoes. Not to mention that I don't own any shoes that will make it in winter snow. My hands already get cold when I type sometimes. I don't have thick enough warm-up pants to walk to the gym in when it's chilly. IIt's going to be a loooong winter.
Second, seasons create a lot of hassle. In Houston, I left my clothes out pretty much year round. Sure, in the summer I could put away a few of my sweaters, but most of my clothes were wearable throughout the year. (ie my short sleeve shirts still got use in January). Here, I recently had to go through the arduous process of bringing out all my sweaters and packing up most of my short sleeve shirts, tank tops, and short skirts. That's just a hassle. I also had to pack up stuff like the fan in my room (since everything here is NOT air conditioned).
In my opinions, seasons are overrated. Give me warm weather and flip flops every day, and I'll keep being happy.
Sunday, October 24, 2004
A great week
(Or, What I miss about Houston)
Co, Michael, and Tammi got me... with BALLOONS! That warm (unexpected) welcome and the lively dinner at Momong's (where we managed to be talking about something inappropriate every time the waiter came by) foreshadowed the fabulous time I'd have.
Within the first 48 hours I ate tons of really good food: Vietnamese (Momong), Thai (from somewhere in the village), and good Tex-Mex (both Noche's and Chuy's).
And not to be left out, I also managed to get in some good Indian buffet (out on Hillcroft, where else?) and good vegetarian (aka The Hobbit) while in town, not to mention good homecooked meals at 3816 Community and 9449 Briarforest.
Friday morning I drove into town on Westpark. I never get to make that drive in the morning. I like the drive, because it takes me through all different aspects of Houston, poor and rich. In the morning, there are people all around, up and about. Chalk it up to my weird-ness, but it was a treat to make that drive.
At the ADVANCE meeting, I got choked up... Why, you ask? I was overwhelmed (with happiness!) to be in a room with such a diverse bunch of people. And not only that, but they actually appreciate diversity and work towards it. And they encourage and support me in my sociological work on race relations. And they immediately understand when I tell them about frustrating situations here at the dame.
I wore flip flops the whole time.
In the middle of his sermon on Sunday, Chris goes, "oh hey! Valerie Lewis is here!" And my three-year-old boyfriend hadn't forgotten me (props if you figure out which guy in the picture is the three-year-old), I got a free copy of The Message, and I heard all kinds of good news from Ecclesia friends.
At my old house (my house from the summer), Kristen was all smiles when she said "Welcome home!" as I walked in. The warmth of that house, it is like home. I made it just in time for the end of the six-hour Pride and Prejudice movie series, which I think is even better than the book.
I had a fun and particularly inspiring time with Geneva. Why? Geneva and I were barely friends when we both were at Rice/in Houston. We were friends of friends, at best. But we clicked, and it feels like I've known her for a long time, and like I can trust her, and relate to her. In the midst of my less-friend-full life here at the Dame, I was inspired to remember that some friendships come very easily and quickly.
I hung out at Taft, read a lot, got sucked in to a new reality TV show (The Biggest Loser), discovered what it was like to not check email, lamented my lack of a significant other (and lamented the prospects of being an old maid sociology professor), enjoyed the Tuesday night nubgrubber-birthed small group, and cooked soup.
Mostly, I hung out with friends, many of whom are like family. I can't sum up "friendship" in a succinct definition, but one thing I have come to appreciate since leaving many friends is that with good friends, I am free to be me, however quirky, strange, boring, opinionated, or frustrated I may be.
In H-town, I felt like ME again.
Thanks (even if I didn't see you).
Co, Michael, and Tammi got me... with BALLOONS! That warm (unexpected) welcome and the lively dinner at Momong's (where we managed to be talking about something inappropriate every time the waiter came by) foreshadowed the fabulous time I'd have.
Within the first 48 hours I ate tons of really good food: Vietnamese (Momong), Thai (from somewhere in the village), and good Tex-Mex (both Noche's and Chuy's).
And not to be left out, I also managed to get in some good Indian buffet (out on Hillcroft, where else?) and good vegetarian (aka The Hobbit) while in town, not to mention good homecooked meals at 3816 Community and 9449 Briarforest.
Friday morning I drove into town on Westpark. I never get to make that drive in the morning. I like the drive, because it takes me through all different aspects of Houston, poor and rich. In the morning, there are people all around, up and about. Chalk it up to my weird-ness, but it was a treat to make that drive.
At the ADVANCE meeting, I got choked up... Why, you ask? I was overwhelmed (with happiness!) to be in a room with such a diverse bunch of people. And not only that, but they actually appreciate diversity and work towards it. And they encourage and support me in my sociological work on race relations. And they immediately understand when I tell them about frustrating situations here at the dame.
I wore flip flops the whole time.
In the middle of his sermon on Sunday, Chris goes, "oh hey! Valerie Lewis is here!" And my three-year-old boyfriend hadn't forgotten me (props if you figure out which guy in the picture is the three-year-old), I got a free copy of The Message, and I heard all kinds of good news from Ecclesia friends.
At my old house (my house from the summer), Kristen was all smiles when she said "Welcome home!" as I walked in. The warmth of that house, it is like home. I made it just in time for the end of the six-hour Pride and Prejudice movie series, which I think is even better than the book.
I had a fun and particularly inspiring time with Geneva. Why? Geneva and I were barely friends when we both were at Rice/in Houston. We were friends of friends, at best. But we clicked, and it feels like I've known her for a long time, and like I can trust her, and relate to her. In the midst of my less-friend-full life here at the Dame, I was inspired to remember that some friendships come very easily and quickly.
I hung out at Taft, read a lot, got sucked in to a new reality TV show (The Biggest Loser), discovered what it was like to not check email, lamented my lack of a significant other (and lamented the prospects of being an old maid sociology professor), enjoyed the Tuesday night nubgrubber-birthed small group, and cooked soup.
Mostly, I hung out with friends, many of whom are like family. I can't sum up "friendship" in a succinct definition, but one thing I have come to appreciate since leaving many friends is that with good friends, I am free to be me, however quirky, strange, boring, opinionated, or frustrated I may be.
In H-town, I felt like ME again.
Thanks (even if I didn't see you).
Friday, October 22, 2004
"Read everything before doing anything"
Did you ever have an assignment like this in elementary school? We did. There was a long list of directons. Number 1 on the list said, "Read everything before doing anything." Number 2 said, "Write your name at the top of the paper." Those two directions were followed by a long and difficult list of tasks for third graders. Multiply 294 by 367. Draw a star around the answer. In the top right corner of the paper write out your mother's maiden name spelled backwards. Think of your favorite color. On the back of your paper, draw an animal that starts with the third letter of that color. And so on and so forth. The very last direction (number 98 or so) said, "Do nothing but numbers 1 and 2."
In third grade, I got this right. I read it all, wrote my name on the top, and handed it in to my teacher while everyone else was busy figuring out the alphabetical order of the planets and drawing various shapes and animals. I was a little confused why I was the only one turning my paper in, but my teacher reassured me in a whisper, "You're the only one who followed the directions: Read everything before doing anything!" Apparently I'm not so good anymore.
Today I got my absentee ballot for Pennsylvania in the mail. I was an eager beaver to fill it out, because for a PA absentee vote to be counted it has to be received by Oct 29. So I opened it up right away and got to work. There were several envelopes and a couple pieces of paper. I couldn't find any good directions, so I was trying to make do with what they told me. Thus started my litany of mistakes.
First, I couldn't figure out how the ballot worked. There was a paper with a list of names and numbers, and then the punchcard with just numbers. They didn't line up. Eventually I figured out you just have to punch the numbers of the people you want, without lining them up, and despite the fact there are about 20 times the amount of numbers on the card as on the list of people.
The punch card ballot was stapled to a styrofoam backing. The top of the ballot is detachable. To my credit, it was already half detached when I got it. I was paranoid to make sure all my chads were fully detached, but unfortunately in this process I fully detached the ballot. It specifically says, "Don't detach ballot. It will be detached by officials when put in the ballot box." Crap! Can I write a little note explaining? Probably not. I compromised by sticking a small piece of scotch tape on to keep it together.
Problem number 2: I have to stick my ballot in this little sheef thing to cover up the numbers I punched out. Anyways, looking at pictures explaining the process, it seemed I had to unstaple the punchcard from the styrofoam so I could put it in here. I can't find a staple remover, but I use a nail file to pry open the staples and stick the card in.
At this point, from somewhere I find the real directions. "Step 4. After voting, slip the secrecy write-in cover over the ballot card so that your choices are hidden. DO NOT REMOVE THE CARD FROM ITS WHITE STYRO-BACKER." (I didn't add those caps, they are like tha tin the directions) Crap! I already removed mine! Okay, well, I just staple it back on exactly as it was.
It is now that I notice the "Check list for voter" which says "Do not use scotch tape on ballot, tear it, or mutilate it." Crap! I scotch taped my ballot together when it came detached. I carefully try to pull off the scotch tape (that suddenly is working better than any other scotch tape I have ever used) without "tearing" or "mutilating" the ballot. It looks like I succeed okay.
I put the ballot in the return envelope and seal it, worried as heck already if I discounted my own vote. Then, of course, I notice on the directions that there are two envelopes. There is a small white one just marked "Official Absentee Ballot" that I'm supposed to seal my ballot in before putting it in the return envelope. Well, yes, you can guess what I did: sealed it in hte return envelope without putting it in the "Official Absentee Ballot" envelope. So I try to neatly open the envelope (which still rips considerably), put the ballot inthe smaller envelope, and then back in the return envelope, which clearly looks like someone opened it now. To top it off, I need to tape it closed since the licking stuff won't work twice, and I used the last bit of my tape illegally taping my ballot back together.
All this work for an absentee ballot, and it seems like the odds are stacked against me in them counting it. Sigh. Voting shouldn't be this hard! It's like they are trying to keep people from voting!
Not only that, but there is this label on my return envelope with my name and county and ward number, stuff like that. The scary part is that I noticed there is a letter on the label denoting the party I'm registered under. Now, call me paranoid, but what is keeping some mail handler/county official of the opposite party from seeing my party affiliation and then trashing my ballot before it makes it to the ballot box. I feel like this kind of kills the idea of "secret ballot", since a lot of people vote their party affiliation.
Ug. I am moving to Canada.
In third grade, I got this right. I read it all, wrote my name on the top, and handed it in to my teacher while everyone else was busy figuring out the alphabetical order of the planets and drawing various shapes and animals. I was a little confused why I was the only one turning my paper in, but my teacher reassured me in a whisper, "You're the only one who followed the directions: Read everything before doing anything!" Apparently I'm not so good anymore.
Today I got my absentee ballot for Pennsylvania in the mail. I was an eager beaver to fill it out, because for a PA absentee vote to be counted it has to be received by Oct 29. So I opened it up right away and got to work. There were several envelopes and a couple pieces of paper. I couldn't find any good directions, so I was trying to make do with what they told me. Thus started my litany of mistakes.
First, I couldn't figure out how the ballot worked. There was a paper with a list of names and numbers, and then the punchcard with just numbers. They didn't line up. Eventually I figured out you just have to punch the numbers of the people you want, without lining them up, and despite the fact there are about 20 times the amount of numbers on the card as on the list of people.
The punch card ballot was stapled to a styrofoam backing. The top of the ballot is detachable. To my credit, it was already half detached when I got it. I was paranoid to make sure all my chads were fully detached, but unfortunately in this process I fully detached the ballot. It specifically says, "Don't detach ballot. It will be detached by officials when put in the ballot box." Crap! Can I write a little note explaining? Probably not. I compromised by sticking a small piece of scotch tape on to keep it together.
Problem number 2: I have to stick my ballot in this little sheef thing to cover up the numbers I punched out. Anyways, looking at pictures explaining the process, it seemed I had to unstaple the punchcard from the styrofoam so I could put it in here. I can't find a staple remover, but I use a nail file to pry open the staples and stick the card in.
At this point, from somewhere I find the real directions. "Step 4. After voting, slip the secrecy write-in cover over the ballot card so that your choices are hidden. DO NOT REMOVE THE CARD FROM ITS WHITE STYRO-BACKER." (I didn't add those caps, they are like tha tin the directions) Crap! I already removed mine! Okay, well, I just staple it back on exactly as it was.
It is now that I notice the "Check list for voter" which says "Do not use scotch tape on ballot, tear it, or mutilate it." Crap! I scotch taped my ballot together when it came detached. I carefully try to pull off the scotch tape (that suddenly is working better than any other scotch tape I have ever used) without "tearing" or "mutilating" the ballot. It looks like I succeed okay.
I put the ballot in the return envelope and seal it, worried as heck already if I discounted my own vote. Then, of course, I notice on the directions that there are two envelopes. There is a small white one just marked "Official Absentee Ballot" that I'm supposed to seal my ballot in before putting it in the return envelope. Well, yes, you can guess what I did: sealed it in hte return envelope without putting it in the "Official Absentee Ballot" envelope. So I try to neatly open the envelope (which still rips considerably), put the ballot inthe smaller envelope, and then back in the return envelope, which clearly looks like someone opened it now. To top it off, I need to tape it closed since the licking stuff won't work twice, and I used the last bit of my tape illegally taping my ballot back together.
All this work for an absentee ballot, and it seems like the odds are stacked against me in them counting it. Sigh. Voting shouldn't be this hard! It's like they are trying to keep people from voting!
Not only that, but there is this label on my return envelope with my name and county and ward number, stuff like that. The scary part is that I noticed there is a letter on the label denoting the party I'm registered under. Now, call me paranoid, but what is keeping some mail handler/county official of the opposite party from seeing my party affiliation and then trashing my ballot before it makes it to the ballot box. I feel like this kind of kills the idea of "secret ballot", since a lot of people vote their party affiliation.
Ug. I am moving to Canada.
Monday, October 11, 2004
my racist friends
Haha, I'm going to relate a conversation some of my Rice friends and I had last year. This conversation exemplifies two great things about my friends: (1) their openness about race chatter, and (2) their biting sarcastic manner. Feel free to blast us on it, not everyone appreciates our lude remarks that are at face value pretty racist. We don't take it as racist, though, because we're not a bunch of white people making racist jokes. Maybe that's a double standard, but that's a topic for another blog entry. Onto the short scene...
Characters:
me (though I don't have a line in this conversation)
"Stumpy" (perhaps by that nickname you can already get a gist of our tone with each other) -- small Chinese girl
Matt D -- half Mexican, half white
Ian White -- 1/4 American Indian, 3/4 white
Setting: Leaving Darband, fabulous Persian restaurant, to get Boba (pearl milk tea) and play Chinese checkers. A frequent activity for us, this is a typical smack talk pre-competition convo. [Note: I don't remember all the actual lines, so this is my vague reconstruction.]
Chris (to Matt): oh Mex, go back to the fields already.
Matt D: Shut up! Your ancestors would be ashamed of you!
Ian: Yeah, Stumpy, are you ready to lose your people's game? [referring to Chinese checkers]
Chris: You mean like your people lost their land, Ian?
Characters:
me (though I don't have a line in this conversation)
"Stumpy" (perhaps by that nickname you can already get a gist of our tone with each other) -- small Chinese girl
Matt D -- half Mexican, half white
Ian White -- 1/4 American Indian, 3/4 white
Setting: Leaving Darband, fabulous Persian restaurant, to get Boba (pearl milk tea) and play Chinese checkers. A frequent activity for us, this is a typical smack talk pre-competition convo. [Note: I don't remember all the actual lines, so this is my vague reconstruction.]
Chris (to Matt): oh Mex, go back to the fields already.
Matt D: Shut up! Your ancestors would be ashamed of you!
Ian: Yeah, Stumpy, are you ready to lose your people's game? [referring to Chinese checkers]
Chris: You mean like your people lost their land, Ian?
My dual image here at the dame
It's come to my attention that I have a particular image here at the dame. Granted, I guess I had an image in Houston too, but that didn't seem to bother me because it seemed like people had the right image, more or less. But here, not so much.
First, yesterday morning my friend John introduced me and said I was "dangerous". I gave him some flack for this. Am I really dangerous? I doubt any of you Houston/Rice friends would call me dangerous. You might say I'm obsessed with race issues, stubborn at times, hardcore about what I think, etc., but I doubt "dangerous" would come up. But then I remember, most of my Houston friends are either (a) liberals, or (b) open minded conservatives who are used to being around liberals. I got the label "dangerous" because John is a conservative (though not super hardcore about it) and has heard me engage in way too many political discussions. And since I'm usually one of the only liberals in the discussion, somehow this gets me dubbed "dangerous". (John later ammended his statement to say that I just "engage in good conversation". Euphemism at its best). Anyways, I don't particularly like this "dangerous"/flaming liberal image, but I don't think that's something I'm really going to be able to change.
Second, I have noticed people here think I'm "nice". (ahem, Steve) What the crap?? I mean, sure, I like to be a nice person. But in my book, people who get the label "nice" are usually nice and B-O-R-I-N-G. I know many people who are nice. Super nice. Oozing nice-ness. But that doesn't make them interesting, or engaging, or fun to be friends with. And nice people usually wouldn't hold up with my friends, Rice friends or Ecclesia friends. It's not that we're not nice... it's just that we like the joking sarcasm/cynicism too. And boy does it come out. Whether it's making fun of Matt D's hair, or David M's whacko "smoothies" (like cottage cheese, raisins, peanut butter, and yogurt), or Michael R's lazy-ness in trashing his book (prompting the funniest comment from Carrie), or whatever. Basic take away: I like my sarcastic, biting friends. I need to lose this "nice" image ASAP. I don't want to be considered one of those boring, dull, "nice" girls. Blech.
Please leave suggestions in the comments of how I can shed the "dangerous" or "nice" images.
First, yesterday morning my friend John introduced me and said I was "dangerous". I gave him some flack for this. Am I really dangerous? I doubt any of you Houston/Rice friends would call me dangerous. You might say I'm obsessed with race issues, stubborn at times, hardcore about what I think, etc., but I doubt "dangerous" would come up. But then I remember, most of my Houston friends are either (a) liberals, or (b) open minded conservatives who are used to being around liberals. I got the label "dangerous" because John is a conservative (though not super hardcore about it) and has heard me engage in way too many political discussions. And since I'm usually one of the only liberals in the discussion, somehow this gets me dubbed "dangerous". (John later ammended his statement to say that I just "engage in good conversation". Euphemism at its best). Anyways, I don't particularly like this "dangerous"/flaming liberal image, but I don't think that's something I'm really going to be able to change.
Second, I have noticed people here think I'm "nice". (ahem, Steve) What the crap?? I mean, sure, I like to be a nice person. But in my book, people who get the label "nice" are usually nice and B-O-R-I-N-G. I know many people who are nice. Super nice. Oozing nice-ness. But that doesn't make them interesting, or engaging, or fun to be friends with. And nice people usually wouldn't hold up with my friends, Rice friends or Ecclesia friends. It's not that we're not nice... it's just that we like the joking sarcasm/cynicism too. And boy does it come out. Whether it's making fun of Matt D's hair, or David M's whacko "smoothies" (like cottage cheese, raisins, peanut butter, and yogurt), or Michael R's lazy-ness in trashing his book (prompting the funniest comment from Carrie), or whatever. Basic take away: I like my sarcastic, biting friends. I need to lose this "nice" image ASAP. I don't want to be considered one of those boring, dull, "nice" girls. Blech.
Please leave suggestions in the comments of how I can shed the "dangerous" or "nice" images.
Saturday, October 09, 2004
The Cute Family =)
This afternoon I was studying at Barnes and Noble. The Barnes and Noble here isn't like the Barnes and Noble on Holcombe (in H-town) or the B&N I recently studied at in Georgetown. The cafes at those B&Ns are full of tables and booths, which are full of people studying. The B&N here has a cafe, but it has far fewer tables, no really comfortable chairs/booths, and pretty much no one studying (except me). Kind of weird, but whatever. I did see the cutest thing. There was a set of parents with their two daughters (about ages 10 and 12 it looked) who bought drinks at the counter then sat down, each with a pile of un-purchased books, and all read. I don't know why it was so cute, but it was! Especially because even the little girls looked totally into it. What a studious family. I bet those girls go far with their educations. And what a cool place to take your kids to read! Not just like, "Okay kids, do your 1 hr of reading today." But rather, "Okay kids, we're going to Barnes and Noble for the afternoon to read." (Even better because they were obviously there to read and not just buy books that may or may not get read.)
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