May I Emboss That For You?

Excuse the continued lack of posting, my few but beloved readers.  I have been slacking.  So, instead of sharing with you the grown-up books I've been slacking with, I thought I'd share about one of the non-reading (but still book related!) ways that I have been slacking.

So, for my birthday I had asked my parents for an embosser.

This request came out of nowhere for both my parents and me.  As a child I could remember playing with my dad's embosser of his initials (which also happened to be mine--thus making all of his books mine according to my logic) but I'd never really thought seriously about getting my own.  Until I wanted one.  NOW.

So after my dad gave me the embosser (he chose one that looks like a fat baby stapler) I got to choose the design.  I went with a complex leafy one that includes the phrase "from the library of" under my name (whole name!  No way my books will be confused for belonging to my Dad.  Although Coffeehouse Angel,  The Birthday Ball and The Cinderella Society would be very tempting for him, I have no doubt).

I'd show you a picture, but the emboss does include my full legal name.  We mustn't make it too easy for the stalkers of the world, mustn't we?

The insert arrived a few days ago.

I've discovered I derive great joy from trapping a leaf of paper between the embosser's mouth and imprinting my name upon it.  It could be the joy of putting my name on something, similar to the joy I used to have of running around scribbling on the insides of book covers when I was four.  I suppose it's also the joy dogs feel with marking their territory.  But that's gross, right?  So, let's not go with that analogy.

Or it could be the sound itself.  I can actually hear the the paper 'chshhhs' as it's being scrunched, which gives me the same feeling I get when I pop a particularly icky zit.  Very satisfying.  (But still with the gross analogies.  I am sorry, FewButFaithReads.)

There's also a slight fear that comes with embossing.  Mid-press, the thought, "Oh shiz, is this my book of did I borrow it from the library or a professor?!" regularly enters my mind.  The risk makes it that much more enjoyable.

The problem is, few but faithful readers, I've run out of books to emboss.  I'm cut off from the hundreds of books I share with my students (the intended target) and even my own home library.  I'm left starving to emboss something.  My parents seem to have grown vaguely disgruntled by all of the embossed post-it note and stationary piles throughout the house.  I could emboss each of the books I do have with me several times.  But I fear that'd look tacky.  Like I expect gnomes to sneak into my room and steal my books (and my understanding is that the gnomes get pissy when they know that you suspected their arrival.  Gnomes love a good surprise).

And this brings me to the reason for this post, FBFRs.  Who among you would like their books to read that they are from my personal library, to forever feel that their personal books were, at some time, stolen from me, hmmm?  I would bring the embosser to your home.  I may even let you push down on it for a few of your books?

Doesn't that sound like fun?