Shabby Collectible Children's Books That I Can't Throw Away

Affluence in The Enchanted Forest

2011-09-03T09:47:00.007-04:00

I have to share a few images from this fantastic edition of "The Three Bears". Published in 1942 by Random House; illustrated by Mary Cameron. It's just about perfect, don't you think?

My favorite part has to be the mapped-out endpapers. Here's the full view ariel view of the county in which Goldilocks and the Bears dwell:

I guess, while I never did before, I can envision Goldilocks living in a 19th century farmhouse with detached garage and barn:

But I have to admit, I never pictured The Three Bears in a gabled colonial with a formal duck pond, beehives, and chicken house.
Very nice, bears.

Scroll Press

2011-08-23T09:00:00.012-04:00

I'm going to deviate from the usual structure today to talk about some non-shabby books I have. Over the last year or so, I've been coming across a number of picture books from the 1970's published by Scroll Press. I can't recall ever having seen anything by this press in my previous 20+ years of buying, so maybe someone local is trickling a collection out into the market?

If I had to find a common denominator among the books, it would have to be that there's just something more thoughtfully wrought, more conceptual and deliberate about them.

Take for instance, the graphically brilliant, "The Ship in the Fields" by Giulia Niccolai and illustrated by Henny and Luciano Boschini. It's a trip through Holland as told from the perspective of a large ship. The first few pages give the reader a history of the geography of Holland and the rest of the book follows "Augusta" as she travels through the landscape.

The same approach is used in two other books, "Chasing Whales Off Norway" and "A Trip Through Cambodia".

In "The Circle Sarah Drew" and "The Line Sophie Drew" by Peter and Susan Barrett, a simple form is reinterpreted from differing perspectives.

"I Can Be Anything You Can Be!" explores gender equality as a young boy tells his female friend that she can't aspire to his goals and she repeatedly affirms that indeed she can.

All manner of transportation is explored with Horst Lemke's amazing illustrations in "Ride With Me Through ABC".

"A Moment in Time" explores the simple event of a falling apple.

Then there are the unusual stories. "The Un-Terrible Tiger" by Miroslav Zahradka tells the tale of a little tiger who loved birds and flowers much to the chagrin of his own kind. He is chased out of the jungle and after demonstrating his kind disposition to everyone he meets along the way, is made a zoo-keeper in the city.

"Vodnik" by Stepan Zavrel is the story of the horrible Vodnik the Waterman, a creature that lives at the bottom of the lake and comes out dripping at night to capture children's minds in jars and change their bodies into fish.

"Rhymes and Ballads of London" by Carole Tate is an illustrated collection of just that.

I've tried to do a little research on Scroll Press, but can't find any reference to them. There seems to be another press by the same name these days, but I don't think there's any connection.
I'm curious about who was involved and what might have been the philosophy that drove their selections. I'd also like to know just how many titles they published and maybe see a complete list. If any of you readers have access to more information, please let me know.

FLUFFY AND BLUFFY

2011-07-19T13:53:00.011-04:00

This tattered ex-library book by Alene Dalton was published by Children's Press in 1951 and illustrated charmingly by Mary Gehr.
It tells the story of twin puppies, Fluffy and Bluffy and their quest for the nicest present in all the world for their mother.

One day the puppies decided to surprise their mother. It wasn't her birthday. It wasn't Christmas. It wasn't even a holiday. It was just a day that Fluffy and Bluffy wanted to to find their mother the nicest present in all the world because they loved her so much. Away they went into the Enchanted Wood.

By and by they heard a rustle. They heard a thump. There stood Peter Rabbit. "Well, twirl my whiskers!" exclaimed Peter Rabbit. "What are you doing in the Enchanted Wood?"
"We are looking for the nicest present in all the world for our mother. Do you know what it is?"
"Certainly," said Peter Rabbit. "It is golden carrots." He gave them a carrot.
When Peter had disappeared back into the woods, Bluffy said, "A carrot does not seem like the nicest present in all the world." "Let's look a little further," said Fluffy.

Fluffy and Bluffy soon came to a little lake. They heard a splash! There, the Three Little Pigs were drinking noisily.
"Good morning!" called Fluffy and Bluffy.
"Well, straighten our curly tails," answered the Three Little Pigs. "What are you doing in the Enchanted Wood?"
"We are looking for the nicest present in all the world for our mother. Do you know what it is?"
"Certainly, " said the good little pig. "It is wolf-proof paint."
While Fluffy went with him to get a can of it, the other two pigs led Bluffy into the thickest part of the wood. They thought they were very clever.

"See that cave over there?" they asked. "That is wehre the Big Bad Wolf lives."
"Are you afraid of him?" inquired Bluffy
"No!" they replied. "If we should see him right now we'd pop him in the jaw and spin him by his tail."
Bluffy and the two pigs laughed and laughed and laughed.

Suddenly they heard a horrible growl. They whirled around! coming toward them was a great big furry beast. "EEEEEEK!" squealed the two little pigs. "It is the big bad wolf."
Before Bluffy knew what had happened, the wolf had chased the two little pigs out of sight.

Bluffy was left alone. He was lost. Where was Fluffy" A big tear slid down his cheek. He cried and cried.

Bluffy started to run. He bumped into a giant toadstool. He heard a tinkle. He heard a little bell. He wondered what it was. A little elf with one wing slid down the toadstool and landed in front of BLuffy.
"Who are you and why are you crying?" he asked.
"I'm Bluffy, and I'm lost."
"How did you get lost?" asked the little elf.
"I didn't stay on the path," sobbed Bluffy.
"Are you always naughty?"
"I guess I am. BUt I don't mean to be."

My name is Fibber-dibberus." said the elf. "They call me Fibber-dibberrus because I...tell...fibs." But I've learned my lesson. Both of my wings slowly disappeared.
"But you have one wing," said Bluffy.
"It grew a little because I was truthful and kind. I'd be glad to help you get unlost." said the elf.

Fibber-dibberus rang his little bell. As if by magic, Bluffy found himself beside Fluffy. Fibber-dibberus was there, too. Bluffy turned him around to see if his second wing had started to sprout.
"Oh, Fibber-dibberus! Your second wing has grown an inch!"

"We have a carrot and a can of wolf-proof paint," said Fluffy.
"That doesn't look like the nicest present in all the world. Let's look further." said Bluffy.

Fluffy and Bluffy soon came to a little house at the edge of the wood. They knocked on the door. Nobody answered. They knocked again. Baby Bear opened the bottom half of the door.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"We are Fluffy and Bluffy, and we are looking for the nicest present in all the world for our mother. Do you know what it is?"
"Certainly," said Baby Bear, "Come inside and we will tell you."

The door to the Three Bears' house opened wide.
There was the middle-sized Mama Bear. And there was the Great Big Papa Bear!

Fluffy and Bluffy forgot what they had come for. They dropped the carrot and the wolf-proof paint and ran for home as fast as they could go.

They jumped into Mother's lap. They threw their arms around her neck.
"What a surprise!" said Mother. "You have brought me the nicest present in all the world."

Fluffy and Bluffy looked at each other. They looked under the chair. They looked under the rug.
Mother laughed and laughed. "You can't see the nicest present in all the world," she said.
"The nicest present is love, especially when it is wrapped up in a big bear hug."

A PENNY FOR WHIFFLES BY DOROTHY HAAS

2011-07-14T19:21:00.000-04:00

This is a well-loved Whitman Pillow Book from 1967 illustrated by two of my favorites; Bonnie and Bill Rutherford. It's completely disbound and held together with brittle tape, but I'll make the most of it here.

Whiffles was a small fuzzy brown pony who had the run of a vast farm.
"One sunny morning, nice old Farmer Hayrick came out into the meadow. He began to brush Whiffles. He brushed him until he tickled, until he tingled, until he felt warm and good. He brushed him until he wasn't fuzzy anymore."
"There now, Whiffles, " said Farmer Hayrick. "Now you are as shiny as a new penny."

Whiffles, being a pony, had no notion of what a penny looked like and so went to ask his friend Old Dapple Dobbs. "A penny," he said, "is very shiny. And sometimes it can make a tinkly ringing noise. I saw one once."
"A penny must be a fine thing," decided Whiffles. "I will look for one." And he headed out to find a penny. He encounters a shiny pail of milk in the barn and as it fits the description, he investigates and only succeeds in tipping over the pail, incurring a scolding from Farmer Hayrick.

Mr. Buttons, the goat informs Whiffles that not only is a penny shiny, it is also round, like the full moon. And it is that same beautiful sort-of-orange color.
"Oh," said Whiffles, "a penny must be the most beautiful thing in the whole world. And I would like to have one." He continues his search around the farm and comes upon the duck pond, in which something was shining. It was only the sun making the water sparkle.

Whiffles looked in the tractor shed, in the apple orchard, and in the hayfield. And then in the cornfield, he saw a thing lying on the ground. it was round. It was shiny. It was orange.
"A penny!" thought Whiffles, touching the thing with his nose.
But then Farmer Hayrick came hurrying. "Skedaddle there, Whiffles," he called. "Don't you touch that big, round, ready-to-pick pumpkin!"

As Whiffles was about to give up, around the curve came a motor car. A little girl leaned out the window to get a better look at Whiffles. The car stopped. The little girl hopped out and ran toward Whiffles. Suddenly her father called, "Wait, honey! You have dropped your purse and spilled those pennies of yours!"
Pennies?
Whiffles ears perked up. He trotted over to the little girl and looked down. There lying in the grass were three shiny, round sort-of-orange things. So these were pennies!

Whiffles' head drooped. His ears drooped. Sadly he turned away. "Pennies are nice," he said to himself. "But they aren't as nice or as pretty as I thought they would be. They are not the most beautiful things in the whole world."

Suddenly Whiffles heard the girl's father say something. "Penny," he said, "you must be more careful, or you will lose those pennies."
The little girl laughed. "I'll be more careful, Daddy," she promised.
Whiffles blinked. Was the little girl a penny, too? That was what her father called her.

Whiffles looked carefully at this Penny. Her hair was the color of a big sort-of-orange moon. Her eyes were as shiny as the sky on a sunny summer day. And best of all, when she laughed it was the tinkliest most ringing kind of laught Whiffles had ever heard.

Now that, thought Whiffles, is exactly the kind of penny I would like for my very own! He went up to the little girl and rubbed against her arm.
The little girl put her arms around Whiffles and hugged him.
"Oh Daddy," she said, "this is exactly the kind of pony I would like for my very own!"

And that's exactly what happened!

FIND THE CAT

2011-01-26T09:17:00.014-05:00

This is actually the second copy of this book that I have come across. The first one was in respectable condition, so I felt obligated to sell it. This one, however, is decidedly shabby enough that I can add it to my collection without any guilt.

Find the Cat by Elaine Livermore is an early (1973), and in my opinion, a more artistically legitimate, take on the hidden picture phenomenon. Her illustration style makes me think of what Edward Gorey might have created had he suffered from palsy. I love the way Livermore plays fast and loose with perspective and pattern. On every page, the reader is encouraged, along with the dog in the story, to "find the cat". Despite the small size of the page, finding the cat is not as easy as you'd think.

The story begins as the cat and dog argue over possession of a large bone:

The dog wins, but once he takes a nap, the cat steals the bone and hides it away:

This sets the dog on a journey through the house to find the cat:

He looks:

and he looks:

and he looks some more:

By the time the dog finds the cat, he has become quite aggravated:

Once the cat escapes outside to the yard, the hunt is on once again:

Can you find the cat?:

At long last, the dog finds the cat and chases him through an open window into the house:

And is finally reunited with his beloved bone:

GOOFY THE GOAT

2010-12-07T08:33:00.011-05:00

This is a cute story about the reforming of a goat, published by James and Jonathan Company in 1946. The author, Dorothea Snow also wrote the popular picture book, "Puddlejumper". There really isn't a whole lot to the storyline in Goofy, but it caught my eye enough to post here. Plus goofy is a favorite adjective of mine.

"The little gray goat was the goofiest animal on the farm. His horns were long. His tail was short. His feet were big.
He LOOKED goofy.
He ate tin cans and washing off the line. He butted his head into posts and trees. He even butted his head into people every chance he got.
He ACTED goofy.
All day long he said, "Baaaaa, Baaaaa!" in a high squeaky voice.
He SOUNDED goofy.

One day the goofiest looking car drove into the farmyard. The goofy looking car stopped and out climbed the goofiest looking family.
The man, who was thin, wore a big checked suit. The woman, who was fat, wore a dress with stripes going round and round, and a hat with chicken feathers and cherries on it. The boy wore overalls with one long leg and one short leg. The girl wore a dress with a big sunflower pinned on it.

"We hear you have a goofy goat," said the thin man.
"We'll sell him," said the farmer.
"We'll sell him cheap," said the farmer's wife.
"We'll give him away," said the farmer's boy.

They introduced themselves to Goofy as Oscaritis Noony, Maryitis Noony, Mr. Noony and Mrs. Noony.
At last, after driving up and down hills and around many curves, Mr. Noony drove up to the goofiest looking house. The house was built every which way.

The front porch was on the back and the back porch was on the front. The chimney was crooked and the fireplace was on the outside. Everything that belonged in the backyard was in the front and everything that belonged in the frontyard was in the back.
"We're home!" the Noonys shouted.

The Noony's put Goofy into another goofy looking house. It looked like a big ice-cream cone upside down. It had round windows and a three cornered door.
Goofy stuck his head out of the door. "Baaaaa!" he said. "This is wonderful. I'm going to like living here."
And he wiggled his whiskers and grinned.

That night Oscaritis Noony and Maryitis Noony brought Goofy his supper. It was not hay. It was not grass. It was not clover. It was THISTLES!

The next day Oscaritis Noony and Maryitis Noony brought Goofy into the front yard. There Goofy saw the Noony pig. It was a BLUE pig.

"I have seen black pigs and white pigs and gray pigs," Goofy said to him. "But I never saw a blue pig before. How come?"

"I was a white pig once," said the Noony pig sadly. "But the Noonys painted me blue."

Then Goofy saw the Noony cow. It was a GREEN cow.
"I was a brown cow once," said the Noony cow sadly. "But the Noony's painted me green.

Goofy looked around and saw he saw queerly colored chickens, ducks, rabbits and geese. In fact, all the animals wore the goofiest colors. And then he saw Oscaritis and Maryitis Noony coming toward HIM with a can of red paint.
"Baaaaa!" shouted Goofy. "I don't want to be a red goat. That would be too Goofy for me."
And he put down his head and butted into Maryitis and Oscaritis Noony. He butted them right into the pail of red paint.

At last Goofy arrived back to his own farm.
"Here's that goofy goat again!" cried the farmer's boy.
"Why couldn't he stay with the the goofy Noonys?" the farmer said. "That's where he belongs."

Goofy wiggled his whiskers and grinned. He felt so happy about being back on the farm that he HAD to butt something. He put his head down and started toward---but he didn't butt the farmer. He only butted the post on the farmyard fence.
"That's funny," said the farmer, "when he was here before he would have butted me no matter how many posts were around."

Goofy felt hungry. He trotted right past three pairs of stockings that hung on the line. He stopped to eat an old pasteboard box that was lying on the ground.
"That's funny," said the farmer's wife, "when he was here before he would never have passed up my stockings for a pasteboard box."

The farmer's boy went to the barn and got Goofy's cart and harness. Goofy stood still while he was being harnessed. Then he began to pull the cart just like any other goat would.
"That's funny," said the farmer's boy, "when he was here before he would have upset the cart or else."

"Well," said the farmer's wife, "he may look goofy and sound goofy but he can't help that. If he has stopped acting goofy he may stay right here."

"Baaaaaa! Baaaaa! Baaaaa!" shouted Goofy. And he wiggled his whiskers and grinned.

SKY HIGH BY FRANCES WOSMEK

2010-06-20T11:57:00.012-04:00

This is the first time I've seen this cute little book. This copy was obviously well-loved; it's barely held together at the hinge with brittle scotch tape. This is a Bonnie book and was published by Samuel Lowe in 1949. It's about a week in the life of Angel Children. Originally it came with a little puzzle (thus explaining the squiggly jigsaw lines on the front cover), but the puzzle is long gone.

"Angel Children are little things
With fairy ways
and fairy wings.
They sleep in the clouds;
and they live up high
along with birds
in the big blue SKY-"

"On MONDAY morning
early and bright
They gather the dew
That came in the night."

"TUESDAY they iron from morning till noon
With half a star on the quarter moon".

"On WEDNESDAY an owl old and wise
With smooth brown feathers
And big round eyes,
Comes up from the earth
And with manner mild,
Teaches lessons
To each Angel Child".

"On THURSDAY morning
They're up with the larks
To build a fire of lightning sparks

Then all day long
They mix and bake
Very delicious
ANGEL FOOD CAKE!"

"On FRIDAY they're all
As busy as bees
Up on ladders
And down on knees

And then on SATURDAY
Everyone goes down to earth
In his nicest clothes".

"They all like SUNDAYS best, I think
'Cause they wear little robes of blue and pink
And then with their song books
Containing the words,
THey sing with a chorus of little birds."

"So an Angel Child works,
And sometimes he plays,
But he always has perfectly
HEAVENLY DAYS!
***************************

And if sometimes you'l watch
When the sky is REAL blue
Maybe you'll see one
WINKING AT YOU!"

THE STORY OF FOURTEEN BEARS

2009-11-04T07:50:00.006-05:00

One of our local library sales has a few shelves of books they give away for free; mostly books that have been significantly damaged and are no longer sellable.
I love being able to fill a paper sack, guilt-free, with cute shabby picture books such as this one; The Fourteen Bears by Evelyn Scott and illustrated by Virginia Parsons, printed by Golden Press in 1969.

I never had this particular book as a child, but I'm guessing that some of you did, and that it made quite an impression. More than anything else really, the illustrations emphasize individuality. Instead of the fourteen child bears being lost in the family shuffle, each has his or her own treehouse, and each treehouse is uniquely decorated.

Most of the other illustrations show the family as they wander the forest during the day; swimming, picnicking, sunning, and eating ice-cream made flavored with honey.
As evening approaches, they each head back to their separate treehouses:

THE RUNAWAY TOYS

2009-05-14T08:51:00.004-04:00

This cute little book was published in 1933 by Rand McNally and was written and illustrated by Lillian Baker Sturges.

The story takes place in Bavaria, where all the toys are made for children around the world. Only problem is, there are no toys left for the Bavarian children.

It's told in rhyme and illustrated variously in color and black and white. I've trimmed the story down a little, but you'll get the gist.

(Actually, after re-reading this story and looking at the pictures, it's kind of creepy...all the children like zombies plodding after a bunch of creaky toys in the moonlight and then not saying a word when their mother's urge them back home.)

=================================================================================================

In far-away Bavaria, there is a queer old town whose narrow streets and dwellings quaint, have brought it great renown.
A high stone wall surrounds the place, a hundred towers rise, and many a tower once rose high that now in ruin lies.

Oh what a rainbow colored town!--You'd surely like to stop and look in through the window panes to see this fine Toy Shop.
For Nuremberg, as well you know, is noted for its Toys; they're sent the wide, wide world around to please the Girls and Boys.

Alas! they are all sent away to far-off foreign lands; the little ones of Nuremberg must play with empty hands.

Here are many lovely dolls with flowing curly locks, some clad in common calico, and some in silken frocks.
There're dolls of wood, and dolls of rags, and dolls that really walk, and dolls that jump, and dolls that sleep, and dolls that truly talk.

An elephant that nods his head; a rocking horse that rocks; a duck-on-wheels; a bird that sings; a pert jack-in-the-box.
These patent toys are wonderful! You turn a little key; a monkey walks, a rooster crows by strange machinery.

Once upon a time the shopman, Hans, old, and forgetful quite, wide open left the toy shop door and went home for the night.
Leaving the toys unguarded there, it presently grew dark, and then arose a murmuring up near the Noah's Ark.

"I'm sure I'm tired of staying here," exclaimed the Jumping Jack; "I'd like to jump and limber up this stiffness in my back. The other jacks are happier far who've gone to foreign shores, for they know something of the world and dwell in lovely stores."

"I'd like just once to see the moon, it is my fondest dream to gaze upon a real, true moon, not just a stray moonbeam."
Thus spoke the pretty waxen doll, and then she heaved a sigh; "we'll never see the moon from here," Was Noah's sad reply.

"I know I'm just a wooden duck, but I have wheels inside; if one of you would wind me up I could go far and wide
into the great big glorious world, and oh, the sights I'd see! Yes, sights both new and wonderful; won't someone please wind me?"

"Ah, here's the key and there's the lock right underneath your wing' of all the animals in the shop you are the queerest thing!"
"You know you really cannot walk, you always wabble so; but I suppose that is the way that all real live ducks go."

The rubber balls cried: "We can bounce," and bounced down to the floor; they bounced and bounced and bounced again, and bounced right out the door.
Good Mrs. Noah followed next, the animals two by two, the rocking horse, the lamb-on-wheels, the squad of soldiers too.

Out the door into the street, the gay procession went, with jostle, tumble, rush and bang--on sight-seeing intent.
The children, they were fast asleep--such chubby girls and boys! When down the silent moonlit street marched on the troops of toys.

From underneath the coverlets stirs many a little head; the children soon are wide awake and bounding out of bed.
One glimpse from windows open wide--the toys in moonlight glow; they flash and gleam with color bright as they pass on below.

Down many a winding flight of stairs, all stealthily and fleet, came echoing through the hallways dark the patter of little feet.
Never before was such a sight in quaint old Nurnberg town--each little one tripped blithely out in white nightcap and gown.

The toys marched on with never a glance at the children trooping out, they did not even seem to hear their joyous laugh and shout.
But ever forward on their march, through many a crooked street; the children followed after them in their soft-slippered feet;
On to the massive city wall, the gates stood open wide; the train marched on across the bridge that spanned the moat outside;
But still they followed up the toys farther and farther still, until they spied the yellow moon just resting on the hill.

Each mother to her child's room went to see if all was well; but every bed stood empty--what a shocking thing to tell!
They searched all corners of the house; they searched hallways too; they searched the narrow crooked streets; they searched the whole town through;
They searched outside the old town gates; Look! over the hill they saw the train just vanishing--a sight to make them ill.

Across the dale and up the hill, breathless, yet striding fast, they chased the truant little ones and caught them too, at last.

"Come back, and we will give you toys," desperate the Mothers cried: "We'll give you toys and toys and toys, until you're satisfied."
The children turned with never a word, and from the hill came down; they crossed the moat, filed through the gate, back into Nurnberg town.

They went contentedly to bed each with a woolly toy, a doll, a nodding elephant, an ark, or sailor boy.

But not a truant toy came back that started forth to roam; maybe you'll find some if you look, right here, in your own home!

THE HAPPY FAMILY

2009-05-11T07:59:00.009-04:00

I admit it, I'm a sucker for 1950's era kid's books that celebrate the perfect squeaky clean American lifestyle and the traditional divisions of labor between men and women. I love the aprons over starched dresses, the sheets blowing on the line, the four course dinners on china for special occasions.
Mom always baked the birthday cake herself and dad always knew exactly how to assemble a new bicycle.

The unfair demands and expectations of that lifestyle proved chafing in practice, but in the world of the children's book aesthetic, it's a sweet little escape into a place where nothing goes wrong.

I present to you The Happy Family (story by Nicole, pictures by Corinne Malvern, Simon and Schuster 1955):

"Father and Mother live in a pretty little house with their little boy Tony and their little girl Peggy. They have a pussy cat called Kiki and a dog called Skipper. They are a very happy family.

The happiest time of day is when Father comes home from work. Mother gives him a kiss. Tony and Peggy run and shout: "Daddy, Daddy! Hello, Daddy!"

Father hangs up his coat and goes to work in the garden. Tony helps with the lawn mower. Peggy picks radishes and cuts flowers for the table. They work hard and get very hungry. But soon Mother calls from the window: "Wash your hands, everybody! Dinner is ready!"

What a nice dinner! There is roast beef with baked potatoes, a big dish of peas from the garden, and lettuce and tomato salad. Most wonderful of all, there is an apple pie cooling on the window sill. Kiki likes the roast beef. She looks at it and says: "Meow! Meow! Please somebody, give me a taste of this roast beef."
Skipper too, looks at the roast beef with longing, and he lets out a big sigh. "I wish I had the bone, "he says. But Mother is smart and she knows just what Kiki and Skipper are thinking.
"All right!" she says. "Come here, you two."
She gives Skipper a bone and sets out a dish of gravy for Kiki.

Right after dinner, Mother says: "Let's do the dishes," and everybody goes into the kitchen.
It is lots of fun. First Mother fills the sink with hot water and soap powder. Then she rinses the glasses. They come out clean and sparkling.
Father says: "Let's help Mother. Tony and Peggy, will you please wipe the dishes? I will put them away."
In a few minutes, they have washed, rinsed, and wiped all the glases, the plates, the knives, the forks and spoons, and the pots and pans. Then Mother takes off her apron and they all go into the living room.

"Now Daddy, tell us some stories," say Tony and Peggy. Father opens a book and reads them the story of The Three Bears and the story of Little Red Riding Hood and about Tom Thumb and the Little Gingerbread Boy and Hansel and Gretel.
Suddenly Dad puts down the book and says "Eight o'clock!"
Mother puts her knitting down and says to the children: "Time to go to bed."
Before going to bed, Tony and Peggy have one more thing to do. They go to the bathroom and brush their teeth.
Then Mother tucks them in bed and gives each one a big kiss.

It is morning again and the milkman brings milk for the family. Clickety-click go the bottles in a wire basket. Skipper watches him but does not bark. He just wags his tail. The milkman is a friend of his and Skipper does not bark at his friends.
After everyone has had breakfast, Father is ready to go to work. Today he is picked up by a neighbor and sits beside the driver. "Good-bye!" says Mother to both of them. "Don't drive too fast, now!"
Tony and Peggy take their lunch boxes and they go out to meet the school bus.
All their little friends are at the corner, waiting for the bus too. They call out to Tony and Peggy: "Hurry! Hurry! The bus is almost here!"

Now Mother is all alone in the house. She is very busy because she likes to have everything clean and in order. She makes the beds and she cleans the rugs with the vacuum cleaner.
Then she puts the soiled clothes in the washing machine. Swish, swish, go the clothes. Soon they are clean and hung on the line to dry. Later she irons a suit for Tony and a white dress for Peggy.

When Tony and Peggy come home from school, they go with their mother to do the marketing. As they walk along, Mother thinks: "Now let's see, what do I have to buy today?"
Tony and Peggy follow her and carry the bags. They are careful not to drop anything in the street.

Today is a big day. It is Peggy's birthday and Mother has baked a beautiful cake.
She is very busy decorating the cake with candles and little flowers. Now with pink frosting she writes on the icing: PEGGY
What a beautiful cake! How good it looks! When, oh when, is the party going to begin?

At last the guests come and Peggy and Tony and all their friends sit around a table in the garden. Mother brings out the cake. All the candles are lighted and the children sing: "Happy Birthday, dear Peggy, Happy Birthday to you!"

Just as the party is going to end, Father comes with two big boxes. One box is for Peggy and one is for Tony. "What is it? What is it?" they cry.

They can hardly wait to open them. They hurry as fast as they can. Oh, what a wonderful surprise! Father has bought them two beautiful shiny bicycles.

The next day the whole family helps to pack a lunch. Then they jump on their bicycles and ride to the beach.
Tony and Peggy have a lot of fun ringing the bells of their new bicycles: "Ding-a-ling. Watch out, everybody!"
As soon as they arrive at the beach, Tony puts on his bathing suit and dives from the raft.
"Come on in, Peggy! The water is fine!"

While Tony and Peggy have their swim, Father and Mother unpack the lunch: hard-boiled eggs, all kinds of sandwiches, salad peaches, and ice-cream. A nice breeze is blowing from the sea and everyone has a big appetite.

It is late when they get back to their little house and everyone is tired. Soon, very soon, the whole family will be in bed and asleep. Good night.

I like this family...the normal dad from this era would come home, grab the paper and a cocktail and plop his fanny in the easy chair. But this dad immediately mows the yard. I can get behind that.
Plus, the book promotes car-pooling which is cool.
Dad actually shows up for the birthday party instead of indulging his work-a-holic nature, oh, and he helps in the kitchen after dinner.

Maybe they really were happy after all.

HA-HA FARM LAUGHING ANIMAL BOOK ANIMATED

2009-05-05T08:18:00.010-04:00

I guess it's no wonder that many of the books I'm posting here are of the pop-up or moveable variety. It's difficult to find these old animated books without any problems.
I discontinued the pop-up section of my shop because even if the book was shelved in perfect condition, it wasn't long before it was transformed into a shabby book.

This book is by Thirma and Carlyle Leech and was published by Capitol Publishing Co. 1944. Each page features a farm animal and the corresponding sound that he makes. Every other picture is animated.

The style of illustration is unusual; it has a kind of airbrushed quality. There's a slight creepiness to the disembodied heads that's enhanced when you move the tabs....all the animals' eyes roll back in their heads, just showing blank whites. I spared you the sight.

Meow-Meow

"Our Taffy cat, you may believe
Is just for fun and play,
But, oh, she's very useful, too
For keeping mice away"

Quack-Quack

""Quack!" laughs Dolly as she swims
Up and down the creek.
She bathes and splashes all day long
And keeps her feathers sleek"

Oink-Oink

""Oink, oink, oink," grunts Porky Pig
"I'm fat and growing fatter.
Some day I may be bacon, but
It really does not matter.""

Neigh-Neigh

"Ned may not make much speed it's true
As he plods along at work,
But never will you find a chore
That Ned will try to shirk"

Moo-Moo

"And here's our friend, Matilda Cow
Who gives us milk each day-
Big pails so full, to keep us well,
And straight, and strong and gay"

Ha-Ha

"Laughter makes for happiness
And a laugh is good to see.
You've laughted will all your barnyard friends,
Now come and laugh with me."

Once Upon a Time; Old Time Fairy Tales

2009-05-01T08:20:00.009-04:00

One of the first sets of children's books I had as a kid was the Book Trails set, published in maybe the 1930's? I can't remember where my mother picked it up; maybe a yard sale?
The books were bound in beautiful burgandy textured cloth and the covers were embossed with a knight riding up a winding path toward a castle (come to think of it, a whole lot like the cover illustration of this book).

Although the set was many many volumes, my preoccupation was with the first three or four titles; For Baby Feet, Through the Wildwood, and To Enchanted Lands; because they contained some of the most gorgeous illustrations of cherubs, fairies, spring gardens, ships at sea, night skies, mothers with their babies etc...
I was an illustration snob from the get-go (or too lazy to explore unillustrated text) and Book Trails set the bar pretty high.

So I mention all that because this Fairy Tale book is from the same era and has the same style of early twentieth century illustration. The illustrator for this book is listed as Margaret Evans Price, the editor is Katharine Lee Bates. It was published by Rand McNally in 1928.

I'll start with the endpapers. I love these. Bubbles and a silhouette witch; it's perfect.

The stories listed in this book are:
Jack and the Beanstalk, Briar Rose, or the Sleeping Beauty, Furball, Hop O' My Thumb, Furball, Drakestail, Jack the Giant Killer, Cinderella, Toads and Diamonds, King Hawksbeak, Little Red Riding Hood, The Dancing Shoes, Beauty and the Beast, Rumpelstiltskin, or Tom Tit Tot, The Frog Prince, Tom Thumb, The Goose Girl.

A lot of the illustrations have been marred with pencil scribble, but I'll try to post some of the images in better shape.

From Jack and the Beanstalk (those embroidered britches are awesome):

From Briar Rose (that cradle probably cost more than my house), and check out the stained glass border around the window:

From Furball:

From Cinderella:

From Beauty and the Beast:

I adore the wonderful detail in each picture; the stitching, the embellishments, the flourishes. What lucky children to have had this book growing up.

Gaston and Josephine in America

2009-04-28T10:30:00.012-04:00

The story, "Gaston and Josephine in America" by Georges Duplaix, reminds me a lot of the kind of stories my grandmother would tell me at bedtime.
She'd say, "Once there was a little girl who lived in the country and liked picking apples off the trees, and one day she decided to take a train ride to the city where she had fun with her cousin and they saw a movie and then went to the park, etc.."

This type of story rambles on and on implausibly and switches gears without warning, but the illustrations in Gaston and Josephine are worth the trip.

I won't even begin to try to describe every single thing that Gaston and Josephine get into, but I'll show you a few highlights.

To begin with, the two pigs are from France and have presumably come to America to visit their cousins,who live on a ranch in Arizona. They arrive in New York, but immediately become separated from their family and their adventure to become reunited in Arizona starts when they take jobs in a diner. Gaston flips pancakes while Josephine is the best waitress ever:

They get big tips, save their money and hit the road, going by foot to be thrifty, but quickly realize that their progress is way too slow. In one town they encounter three bad men and then in their haste to get away, they grab onto the back of a car.

When they realize that the car is being driven by the robbers, Josephine squeals and the robbers are frightened off, leaving a grateful old millionare in the car, who rewards them with loads of cash as well as the car (who knows how he got back home to his plantation in Louisiana).

They tootle on to Hollywood, where they meet Charlie Chaplin who impulsively invites them to make a movie of their adventures. They film the movie and then head on to their uncle's ranch in Arizona.

They become champion cattle ropers and bronco riders in no time and quickly settle into their southwestern lifestyle:

Eventually their movie hits the local theater and the whole family goes to view it, first crying then laughing. Their uncle asks if they are glad their adventures are over and they declare that they hope there are many many more! Whew!

Peter Rabbit

2009-04-26T09:11:00.009-04:00

With this copy of Peter Rabbit illustrated by Leonard Weisgard, we get to see what a previous owner did when a book became shabby.
Normally, I wouldn't bother saving a worn copy of this edition because it's fairly common and easy to replace, but this copy is special.

First the owner punched three holes along the spine that go completely through the book and put little clip rings in each hole, making the book like a notebook, capable of expanding to fit all the projects inside. (I took the rings out in the scans, so I could fit the book on the scanner bed flat).

The cover itself wasn't altered, but as we go through the book, we find lots of enhancements.

Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-Tail now have cloth dresses (well, two of them do anyway):

Peter now a has a red cloth scarf and his radish has been fleshed out as well with felt:

I love the use of a woven placemat to simulate Mr. MacGregor's garden fence:

And the onionsack netting to show how trapped Peter is:

The watering can has been covered with tinfoil and the spout, with a clear layer of shiny glue. The handles of the farm tools are pipe-cleaners:

Once Peter finally arrives home, he is tucked under a nice blue cloth blanket and his momma has a pretty lavender ribbon on her bonnet:

Take the Children

2009-04-25T09:16:00.008-04:00

In this cute book by Dorothy King from 1951, six children, each from a different country, are aboard a cruise ship, have lost their name tags and need to find their way home.
The illustrations are actually not all that good, but I'm won over by the manner in which the story attempts to teach children geography.

There are (were) six paper dolls, one for each child, and as the ship sets sail and approaches one country and then another, the reader has to decide which paper doll to "drop-off" at each port.

At this point, there are only four paper dolls remaining, two without heads, but I'll try to show you a what I'm talking about.

Here we see the children (paper dolls) excitedly crowded up front on the S.S. Homeland.

And here is our little girl from France finally getting home. There's a little slot in which you're supposed to slip the doll, but I taped the paper doll to the left, so that the name of the country and its geographic attributes would be visible.

And the Italian boy makes it home as well:

How Well Do You Know Picture Books?

2009-04-22T13:14:00.001-04:00

Well, just when I was on a roll with sharing my shabby books, my hard drive decided it was done with me.

So until my new drive arrives, I will keep you busy with a little quiz I created about picture books.

Name That Book!

If Jesus Came to My House

2009-04-19T16:21:00.008-04:00

While we're on a religious theme, I'll share this book as well. I'll be honest, most religious books for children turn me off, usually because the illustrations are poorly done or the writing is too saccharine. But this one is actually very cute and I like the sentiment as well.
In this book, a young boy imagines what it would be like if Jesus came to his house as a young boy his own age.

"If Jesus came to my house and knocked upon the door, I'm sure I'd be more happy than I've ever been before.
If Jesus came to my house, I'd like him best to be, about the age that I am, and about the height of me.
I'd run downstairs to meet him, the door I'd open wide, and I would say to Jesus, 'Oh won't you come inside?'

I'd offer him my rocking chair, it's such a comfy seat, and at the pleasant fireplace, He'd warm His little feet.
My kitten and my puppy dog would sit beside his chair, and they would be as pleased as I at seeing Jesus there.
Then I would put the kettle on to make a cup of tea, and we would be as happy and as friendly as could be.

I'd show him all the places that are nicest in the house, the hole behind the stairs, where I pretend that I'm a mouse.
The little window up above where I can stand and see the people passing down below and yet they can't see me.
And then I think I'd show Him the corner in the hall, where I'm sometimes frightened by the shadows on the wall.
I always have to hurry when I'm going past at night, but hand in hand with Jesus I'd be perfectly all right.

I'd show him round the garden and ask Him please to bless, the seeds that I have planted, the peas and watercress.
And if the flowers I'd planted were blooming on that day, I'd pick a bunch of all the best, for Him to take away.
Then while He held the basket I would gather two or three of the ripest rosy apples from my special apple tree.
And all the little birds would come and twitter up above, for joy at seeing Jesus in the garden that they love.

And then we'd play with all my toys, my nicest toys of course, and He should have the longest ride upon my rocking horse.
And with my bricks I'd build for him a palace of His own, and He should be the little King and sit upon the throne.
And when we'd done we'd stack the toys all neatly on the shelf, but first I'd let Him choose the best and keep them for Himself.

And when at last the day was done and shadows crossed the sky, I'd see Him to the garden gate and there we'd say good-bye, And He'd perhaps say, "Thank you for a lovely afternoon," and I would say, "I do hope you'll come back very soon."
And then He'd smile and wave good-bye, and so would end our day, but all the house would seem to smile because He'd been our way.

I know the little Jesus can never call on me in the way that I've imagined, like coming in to tea.
But I can go to His house and kneel and say a prayer, and I can sing and worship Him and talk with Him in there.
And though He may not occupy my cozy rocking chair, a lot of other people would be happy sitting there.
And I can make Him welcome as He Himself has said, by doing all I would for Him for other folk instead.

House Full of Prayers

2009-04-19T08:46:00.009-04:00

When I was in fourth grade, I went through a phase in which I would spend most of my class-time making poor man's pop-ups. I would fold a sheet of notebook paper in half, then draw a scene on the top page; usually a diver and a treasure trunk at the bottom of the ocean or an attic and a treasure trunk (I rocked the treasure trunk theme).

Once I had my scene established, I would run a ball-point pen around the outside rim of the trunk lid until the paper would tear easily (no x-acto blades for fourth graders, I did it prison style) and then walla! you had a hinged lid!

Underneath the hinged lid, I'd do my best to draw all manner of enticing baubles and pirate booty. It wasn't very impressive, but it did pass the time and keep my imagination busy. I fancied I might even be a paper engineer one day, although I didn't know the term at that time.

I bring all this up because of a book I just acquired. Published in 1952 by The Standard Publishing Company and illustrated by Vera Kennedy Gohman, it is the grown-up, polished, x-acto blade version of my childhood endeavors (with a fair bit of 1950's sexism thrown in for good measure).

Here we have the sweet charming home of Tommy, Sally, baby, Mother, Daddy and Spot:

And when we peel back the walls, we see what everyone is busy with this fine day:

Down the street is the playground where Tommy and Sally play with their friends:

A sandbox is almost like a treasure trunk:

At suppertime, Mother pulls out all the stops. I don't know if I can scan under the flaps on this one, so I will tell you that the dinner consists of a whole turkey under a silver dome, corn on the cob under a ceramic dome, toast under a dome and cake under a cake dome. Either the pop-up person here was using the domes as a device to engage the reader in this picture or mom really racked up at her bridal shower:

This family never forgets that God is watching. Mother is playing "God is Love" on the piano and if you lift the flap, her next songbook is "Songs About Jesus". Dad gives the girls five choices of religious reading material before bed.

And now it's time to say good-night:

ANIMATED NURSERY TALES

2009-04-18T08:44:00.007-04:00

One of the library sales I attend has a few bookcases of free items and yesterday I found this. The illustrations are by Julian Wehr and it was published in 1962 by McLoughlin Brothers.

By "animated", the book is referring to the movable parts on a few pages. The stories in this collection are Thumbelina, The Elves and the Shoemaker, and The Gingerbread Boy.

From Thumbelina:

From The Shoemaker and the Elves:

From The Gingerbread Man:

THE STORY OF COOKY

2009-04-15T08:27:00.014-04:00

I love the little old Rand McNally picture books. Eventually, a book in this format became part of the Junior Elf line, but this one predates that. This story is by Marian Kennedy and illustrated by Edith Reichman.
I love the use of primary colors and the friendly rounded style of the drawings. They bring to mind the word "jolly".
(I guess this book also predates the common knowledge that chocolate is bad for dogs.)

This little dog is Cooky. He has a wiggly tail. He has floppy ears. He belongs to Billy. Cooky likes dog biscuits. He likes milk. But he LOVES cookies.

One morning Cooky ate all his dog biscuits. He drank all his milk. He was still hungry. He sat up and barked. Billy laughed. He opened the cooky jar. The jar was empty.

Cooky was sad, but decided to trot over to Molly's house. But Molly was out of cookies. Then he trotted over to Sally's house and scratched on the screen door. But Sally was all out of cookies.

Cooky went to sit under a tree and presently caught wind of a familiar smell. He ran down the street, past the meat market, past the school, past the grocery store and around a corner, he found a bakery.

He scratched at the door, but everyone was too busy baking to hear him. He could smell hundreds and thousands and millions of cookies. But he couldn't get inside.

By and by a big yellow truck drove up and out hopped the driver. "What do you want?", he asked. Cooky sat up and barked. He rolled over and over. And he stood on his hind legs and danced.

"My goodness!", said the truck driver. He took out a box of cookies. He gave Cooky a big one, a small one, a fat one, a thin one, a hard one, a soft one, a ginger one, and a chocolate one.

After Cooky had eaten his fill, the truck driver took him to the police station where they found Billy and his daddy, waiting.

Cooky was very tired after running so far. He was very sleepy after eating so many cookies. All the afternoon, he lay asleep under the tree in his yard. He smiled in his sleep as he dreamed of cookies.

Favorite Nursery Songs

2009-04-14T08:09:00.006-04:00

This is a really sweet collection of classic nursery songs from 1956 compiled by Phyllis Brown Ohanian and illustrated by Marjorie Torrey.
Most of the signatures are loose, the spine is busted and the manner in which the children on the endpapers were literally defaced, suggests that the previous owner disliked the concept "fair of face".

Oh this is fun; here's Lazy Mary again (see my post from April 4). It seems that illustrators are of a mind that she should be depicted with red pig-tails, Pippi Longstocking-style. This version only gives one verse though. Nothing about roast goose.

Here's a pretty Little Bo-Peep. You can't see it here, but on the facing page are the sheep right behind her. Turn around Mary! I wonder what shepherdesses actually wore? Most pictures of Bo-Peep seem to show her a bit overdressed for the job.

I don't really get the inspiration behind Rockabye Baby. It's not a nice song, however lulling it might be. But if you're going to draw a picture of a baby about to fall to its death, then you can't find one much sweeter than this.

This last picture is from the 16th century song "Oh, Dear, What Can the Matter Be?". I haven't heard it before, but it's about a girl whose boyfriend is taking too long returning from the fair with his promised gifts of flowers and ribbons.
She's awfully cute when she's mad.

St. Nicholas Magazine 1928

2009-04-13T09:18:00.001-04:00

This magazine isn't really in very bad shape; I just don't usually deal in periodicals. I love this cover. I can't really make the name of the illustrator out, but it looks like Robin Dickey.
I just can't get away from the cats and dogs.

Funny, the big dog looks like a St. Bernard and the puppies look like Jack Russell Terriers. Ya think?

Grabby Pup

2009-04-11T08:52:00.007-04:00

I'll give the cats a break today and show you this cute dog story by Nancy Raymond; pictures by Dirk. It was published by The Fideler Company in 1945.

It almost looks like it should be a Fuzzy Wuzzy book because the illustrations are so lush and velvety. I think they were done with charcoal. Lots of nice rich reds and blacks.

This copy is nearly disbound, spineless and water-damaged, but thankfully the text pages escaped damage.

"Once there was a little puppy with big, floppy ears and soft, silky fur. He lived in his own house under the big maple tree. He was a very good puppy except for one bad habit...he wanted everything he saw, and he grabbed everything he wanted. That is why he was called Grabby."

"At night, before he went to bed, he grabbed Larry's slipper. Whenever he could, he grabbed Betty's doll."

"He often growled boldly and grabbed the bones from the pups who lived in the apple orchard. When Spotty kitten was playing with the yarn balls, Grabby took them both. When Reddy Squirrel was storing acorns in the old hollow tree, Grabby claimed them all."

"By the time the leaves began to fall, Grabby didn't have a single friend. Spotty Kitten would jump to the top of the milk can when Grabby came near. Reddy Squirrel would chatter sharply at Grabby. And the pups in the apple orchard would run away with their bones whenever they saw Grabby."

"But mother knew what the trouble was. Said she, "You must be taught a lesson, my little Grabby Pup." So that night she kept Grabby up until very late, making him walk 'round and 'round without grabbing a single thing. Next morning, Grabby was up bright and early to eat his bowl of puppy meal. Then he headed straight for the barn to find Spotty Kitten."

"He watched Spotty politely, and not once did he grab her yarn ball. Then he set out to see Reddy Squirrel, frightening Old Gander as he ran. When Grabby reached Reddy Squirrel's hollow tree, he didn't touch a single acorn. Reddy was too surprised even to chatter. When he didn't grab their bones, the pups couldn't believe their eyes. So the next day they all had a game of Tag Tail, and Grabby was the leader. Grabby was so happy to have friends that he rolled over, and over, and over. Said Mother, "You are no longer a Grabby Pup.""

The Tale of Peter Rabbit

2009-04-07T09:34:00.012-04:00

We can safely assume that this antique version of Peter Rabbit, illustrated by Virginia Albert and published in 1916, was not neglected. The book is in several pieces, the spine was reinforced with a primitive masking tape, and the former owner tripled the book's functionality by making it a sticker album and sketch book as well.
But the illustrations are dazzling. I can nearly tell the whole story of Peter Rabbit through the color pictures alone:

Trouble is a Cat

2009-04-06T20:57:00.009-04:00

Another ex-library book about a cat that made its way into my collection. There isn't a lot of information available about this book. There don't seem to be many second-hand copies available. Written and illustrated by Ann Kahl, the story concerns a pesky neighborhood stray cat. (A familiar theme around our house).

"Trouble is a black cat with turquoise eyes."

"The children of the neighborhood love Trouble dearly".

...and are always feeding Trouble, but their mothers wish they wouldn't.
"Don't feed that cat," the mothers say. But the children feed him just the same.

Trouble likes to sing at night and tease the dogs. He overturns trashcans and leaves mice and rats on the neighbor's doorsteps.

One night he goes to sleep in a driveway and it snows all night, covering him up. Everyone thinks he died. But a man begins shoveling his driveway and scoops Trouble up on the shovel, flinging him into the air, which causes him to yowl loudly.

The children rush the cat, crying happily...the adults resign themselves to the situation, saying "after all, every neighborhood must have a little Trouble".

Mouse at Home

2009-04-05T07:26:00.009-04:00

This little gem, despite its many torn pages and library markings, now has a place in my personal collection. I think once you see the illustrations, you'll understand why.
The story and illustrations are by Mary DeBall Kwitz.
A quick Google search tells me that she's written somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty books, but this one seems to be more difficult to find.

Look how cute a mouse can be as she's doing her spring cleaning (her curtains are made of cobwebs):

Here she is watering her Spring garden (with a tiny red bow on her tail):

"On the fourth of July, she hung out her flag and watched a brilliant display of fireflies":

"She carved a jack-o-lantern (being sure to save the seeds) and scared the neighbors:

And as the year draws to an end, she celebrates Christmas, sings carols and prepares for the New Year:

Songs to Sing and Play

2009-04-04T09:47:00.008-04:00

Wonder Books have become a relatively recent passion of mine. I love the crisp edges and glossy format, the title on the spine, the fabulous colophon of the children's heads behind a book which forms the "W", and most importantly, the stories and illustrations.
I picked this one up for resale, but then discovered that the pages are falling out.
It's a cute little book by Oscar Weigle and illustrated by Ruth Wood and full of fun songs and song-related activities.

This first illustration is from The Mulberry Bush.

This picture of London Bridge cracks me up:

This last illustration is from the song Lazy Mary, Will You Get Up? I don't think I ever learned that one in school. Apparantly, the only thing Mary will get out of bed for is roast goose:

The Golden Christmas Book

2009-04-03T08:48:00.010-04:00

We'll start with one that many of you might be familiar with. The Golden Christmas Book by Gertrude Crampton.
I picked up this copy at a library sale because it's one my customers are frequently asking for. As you can see, this copy has a number of problems. The spine is missing, the laminate is peeling and there are scribble and crayon marks throughout the text.
But also scattered throughout the book are these gems:

There's Grandma Glitten and Her Kitten (and mittens):
(I'm a sucker for an illustration featuring a cute cat as you'll quickly learn)

This next one is from a short story called The Cuckoo in the Clock.
It's about a cuckoo who desperately wants to see Santa, but because he only pops out quickly and is forced to bow each time, he misses out on all the festivities. His mice and spider friends vow to help hold open the cuckoo clock door for him on Christmas Eve and he cuckoos his little heart out fifty-four times to see Santa unloading presents until he is completely worn out. What a cute story!:

Here's Toinette, who learns that being invisible comes with some harsh lessons:

I'll now leave you with a Christmas riddle:

It does a family good

2008-11-08T10:12:00.004-05:00

When I was a kid, our family drank a LOT of milk for some reason. It was the drink of choice at our house; I don't think we stocked soda on a regular basis. I can remember waking up in the middle of the night and just chugging loads of milk straight from the jug.
Nothing quite hit the spot like a glass of ice-cold milk.

Being Knoxvillians, the only place to get your super-good milk was Weigel's, a locally-owned chain of convenience stores that stock Weigel's Farms dairy products.
There was one a couple of miles from our house and it seems like just about every other night, our family would pile into the VW Bug and my dad would drive us over the hill to load up on milk.

Of course, any self-respecting convenience store at the time also had a kick-ass candy aisle and comic-book spin rack. While my parents shopped, my sister and I would speed-shop with our allowance, usually stocking up on whatever gimmicky candy was being pushed; pop-rocks, gold-nugget gum in a denim pouch, chewing gum with liquid centers, along with the newest Archie or Richie Rich comic.
Seasonally, there were kites and fireworks, Halloween costumes and candy canes filled with jelly beans.
Weigel's, for a long while, was the center of our allowance-spending universe.

Last year I cut back to a four-day work week so that I could devote one day a week to helping out at my parent's house. Most Fridays, I take my dad, who now has Alzheimers, out to lunch and then spend a few hours cleaning and organizing their house.

Yesterday, I called my mom from her house to see what kind of groceries she might be needing, and she told me she could use a gallon of milk. So my dad and I got in my car and we headed over the hill to Weigel's. My dad double-checked his pocket to see how much cash he had on him and was out of his seat-belt as soon as we pulled into the parking space. While I got the milk, he quickly grabbed two king-sized Paydays and two king-sized Hershey's bars and waited for me in line at the check-out. I reminded him that he had a bag of Hershey's at home and convinced him to put those two back. I told him he could get a lottery ticket with the money instead. He loaded his loot into his pockets and we headed home.

I'm always on the look-out for landmarks as I grow older that serve as a rite-of-passage; occasions that let me know, in no uncertain terms, that I've become an adult. This was definitely one of those moments.

Life is shaped by little moments.

2008-10-26T22:17:00.003-04:00

When I was sixteen, my friend Lindsay and I were at her dad's house getting ready for a night out on the strip. We were side by side in front of the bathroom mirror and as I put on my mascara, she made a comment about how I was holding my mouth open. She asked me if I realized I did that and if it served any purpose in putting on eye make-up. It's now 25 years later and about once a week, I think of that when I'm putting on my make-up. And I stubbornly refuse to open my mouth.

Another time, my friend Michael asked me if I left the original wrapper on cheese when I transferred it to a ziploc bag. I admitted that I did. He asked me what purpose did that serve and I couldn't say. But I still do it and I still think of him every time I do.

You ever wonder why some stuff sticks in your head?

My feelings are somewhat hurt

2008-06-01T22:44:00.002-04:00

This is the second year that the Knoxville library has hosted/sponsored a "Children's Reading Festival" downtown.
Last year when I heard about it, I got excited and made some phone calls to see how I could participate. I was told that the committee hadn't really factored in a second-hand bookdealer and they didn't really see clear how I could be a part of the festivities. The promised me that they would put the issue up to a vote and get back to me. Last year, the vote was no, but they said that the upcoming year might be able to accommodate my business.
So this is year two and I guess no discussions were had and no votes were made, because I wasn't invited nor informed about the event.
Sigh.
I mean, children's books is what I do. I am about a mile from the festival. I deal mainly in out of print and second hand books, so I wouldn't really be competing with the library sales or the new retail book vendors.
My booth would feature an entirely different aspect of the children's literary world.
But they don't seem to want anything to do with me, or rather they haven't taken the time to expand their event beyond retail and the library.
I need to mark my calendar and make more efforts next year to call ahead and get the folks in charge to rethink my participation.
It just makes sense to involve local businesses and at the same time expose people to a broader view of what children's literature has to offer.

Generation Me, now with history!

2008-02-03T13:22:00.000-05:00

With all the parents out there blogging about their parenting lives, I wonder sociologically/psychologically speaking, how that is going to affect/shape the perspectives of their kids?
It's pretty fascinating to think about.

How many of us 35+ year olds can boast of having some kind of historical play by play access to our parent's thoughts regarding our developement and behavior?
Most baby books abandon record-keeping at age 7, and even then, only record specific accomplishments; first tooth, first doctor visit, school picture, etc..

There are so many things a person experiences growing up and much of it is forgotten. It's nice to think that current and future generations can do a web search and re-experience an innocuous afternoon outing, a particular Halloween, an afternoon movie, shopping for school clothes etc...and as an added bonus, see themselves through their parent's perspective whether it be one of annoyance or amusement. I think being able to see the love behind each post will be reassuring as well.

I really believe on the whole, it will help a lot of kids as they are trying to figure themselves out, appreciate many valuable aspects to their personalities that are typically easy to forget or overlook. The blog-journal is a kind of proof of the child's value somehow that stands on its own regardless of the changing relationship between parent and child.

Being able to re-read old blogs, I imagine, would also be a great comfort as a child becomes a parent him or herself for the first time. The adult child can, to some degree, discard the archetypes and see the parent as a real person going through similar challenges, but with the added bonus of knowing that the story turned out fine.

I'm not a parent, nor do I have an desire to be, but I am envious of this generation's archives.

Mardi Growl blog

2008-02-02T07:55:00.000-05:00

There's a fund-raising dog parade downtown today with a Mardi Gras theme and due to various folks' disinterest or unavailability, I've been nominated to give out the award for "Finest Unofficial Nekkid Dog".

I'm probably the world's worst ad-libber, so I've enlisted my sister and her kids to help me out. She can be the voice if any cameras are involved and my niece and nephew can choose the winner (who's gonna argue with a cute kid, right?).

My friend in Delaware and her husband made the hilarious trophy; Alpo and Mighty Dog cans as the base and a upright dogbone and rubber ball on top to symbolize the sunsphere. There's also an engraved tag for the winner's collar and a frisbee.
I don't think the owners of the nekkid dogs know that there is a trophy involved, so it should be low-key.

Update:

27 degrees for the start of the parade. Very chilly. My husband woke up early and came along with our second dog. We met up with my sister and her kids. The first annual parade was a huge success! About 500 dogs were registered to walk. The money goes to a local animal shelter, so we are super happy.

I feel like I botched the selection process for the Nekkid Dog award. I had all the Nekkid Dogs gather in the park and I stood there with my posse and deliberated. We didn't really reach an official concensus (there were soooo many super cute dogs), but I had two of my posse finger the gorgeous husky and I pounced on the decision.

His name was Eiger. Very impressive dog.

All in all, the parade was a hit. I look forward to seeing it grow(L) in the coming years.

No Whammies

2008-01-29T20:05:00.001-05:00

I'm sorry for my long absence. The obligatory apology for blog decline for those who were tuning in. I'm not really sure what's going on. Lack of focus in part I guess.
Also, my family life (read: mom, dad, sister, me) is a game of "No Whammies!" lately.
My mom has had two cardiac events in the last couple of months and then just this past Sunday I got a call that she had been in a car accident.
My sister and I need desperately to get to a lawyer and get power of attorney changed to us if my mom goes before my dad. As the paperwork stands now, it goes to my Alzheimer's spend-a-holic dad, who has NO business near a check-book or managing affairs.
I'm not sleeping much. I wake up every night at 4:30 and spend the next agonizing hour and a half thinking every shameful, irresponsible, fearful, neglectful, dreadful thought imaginable and then nod off exhausted again at 6:00, only to have to get up at 8:00 for work.
I'm fixated lately on mortality. I guess I've always had an obsession with the passage of time and memory, but now that I'm 40, it seems to have gotten more urgent.
Time is flying and it's only a cough and a hiccup to 50 and then 60 etc...
I guess this is what a mid-life crises is comprised of?
I'm luckier than most in that I have both my parents in my life still and in relatively good health.
I'm afraid of my responsibilities in all honesty.
My husband and I are prepared to move in over at my parent's house if my mom is incapacitated or dies. We will take care of my dad until we need a nursing home to take over.
That terrifies me. I'm up for it, but it will be very hard.
It's all hard.
Lots to think about.
And tomorrow I have a breast ultrasound to check out a new lump. The other lump has been established as an innocent fibrous dealy, but my birthmom has just come out of a breast cancer bout and I just anticipate that I'm going to have to deal with my own scare at some point.
Sigh.
I need some sleep drugs.

I will end this by reiterating that my life is GOOD. I am HAPPY. Really. Very much so.
As I type, my husband is finishing up a pot of homemade chili and some cornbread (my mom's recipe that he miraculously perfected after just one viewing).
I've cut back to four days a week. My home business is doing well.
I'm having a good time, yo.

I've just hit that part of life when I'm a bad phone call away from drastic changes in my established routine. I'm on edge for sure.

Happiness is...

2008-01-03T21:31:00.001-05:00

Sitting here in my office watching Little People, Big World. I've been banished from the living room because apparently I am a jinx to Virginia Tech.

Here I am at the first Thursday of the New Year and my first four day work week. Feels pretty weird knowing I don't have to get up early in the morning.
Feels pretty great.

Tomorrow I get started at my folk's house. I guess just throwing away as much trash as I can and getting some light cleaning done will be a good start.

In-Sync Sisters

2008-01-02T22:41:00.000-05:00

My sister and I absolutely hated each other when we were young. We thought every adult who assured us we would get along as adults was batty. But here we are 38 and 40 and what do you know; we get along.

We are very very different with regard to our preferences and lifestyles. My sister is a fundamentalist baptist, married into a baptist preacher's family. She is a career woman with many many years logged at a government facility. She and her husband (of 15 years) have two children. She is involved in the community delivering meals, and working for a variety of fundraisers close to her heart.

I am still somewhat newly married; new agey, want no kids, my husband is an athiest, we both like our beer, we are both fairly selfish with our time and energy.

Ok ok, so my sister and I are totally different on paper. But what freaks me out is that our moods are completely in sync. I see her about once a month, but we talk online a few times a week.
I can come to work in a funk, login and ask her how her mood is and walla!, she is also in the same funk. Her relationship with her boss is the same as my relationship with my boss. And they tend to piss us off on the same schedule. When I'm feeling melancholy, so is she. When I'm weepy, so is she! When I'm happy, so is she!.
It's very strange.

I have to admit I take comfort in finding her there online feeling how I feel. We help each other through our mood swings like no one else, maybe because we are sisters. It's very weird and very unexpected and very welcome.

I'm glad we're adults now and I'm glad we get along.

First of Ebay Mania 2008

2007-12-27T23:04:00.000-05:00

So as per my last post; I bring you the first batch of EBAY auctions that I am creating for my mother.
I plan on systematically working through her home over the next few years, organizing, ebaying items and getting items ready for a spring rummage sale.
This is a HUGE project, as my parents are decades long packrats. The items featured in this auction batch represent only one bag in one lowly corner of one lowly room.
I haven't even begun to make a dent.
Also in this carload were three boxes of Disney videos which are now at the bookstore.
The prices on the videos range from 2-6.00 each.

To view all of the items for sale on EBAY, click on "view seller's other items".

EBAY LOOT

In which hating phones bites me hard

2007-12-24T18:10:00.000-05:00

As I've probably stated on here before; I hate telephones. And as I've probably said at one time or another; I don't visit my folks as often as a good child would do. And I've probably also mentioned that one of my worst fears is to get the "call"; that one of your elderly parents is having a medical emergency.
Well I got the call, and I'm quite ashamed to say it was two days after the fact.

Ya see....I have a cell phone and it's always in my purse across the room or across the house.
And the house phones are in my husband's office and somewhere else obscure (I never check the machine). I depend on my husband to give me answering machine messages that come in.

And I rarely check my cell phone messages, because no one ever calls and I hardly ever use it.

So on December 10, I find a chilling cell phone message from my mom, left on the morning of the 8th during which she was having a heart attack and waiting for my sister to come and take her to the hospital.

You have no idea how absolutely shitty a child can feel.

She's ok. The doctors were able to stop the heart attack before any serious damage was done. She takes a lot of medication and it seems that she accidentally let one slip through the cracks.

SO. For 2008, I'm cutting back to 4 days a week at the bookstore and spending a day at my parent's house working instead. I'll be cleaning, doing laundry, ebay auctions, organizing (it is a critical case of packratitis) and throwing away lots of stuff (I HOPE).

I'm really looking forward to this. Probably my favorite thing to do is to throw stuff away and organize. I will be in hog heaven. And more importantly, I will be taking a big load off of my mom.

The Thin Black Line

2007-11-16T19:52:00.001-05:00

My youngest cat has, in the last six months, discovered the awesomeness that is the outdoors. Not with our permission, I should add. He has become slyer and dartier and has managed to escape the monotony that is our house twice now, preferring to explore the woods and worry us silly.

So the other day, I got him a little cat harness and little cat retractable leash. (They are so cute btw).

Walking a cat on a leash is very unlike walking a dog. A cat saunters and plops. Repeatedly.
I open the door..he saunters out slowly, then plops down on his belly. Then he's up again, walks a few feet, then sinks again to lay flat on the ground.

We did this for about 20 minutes around the yard. He loved it, even though he lets me know in no uncertain terms that I am seriously cramping his style with the leash.

But tonight I knew the leash had established a permanant place in his heart when I rustled around in the leash basket and he raced to the door and hollered.

Awwwww. So cute.

Leaves are falling..fire is crackling...life is good

2007-11-16T19:02:00.000-05:00

Oh my good god, I love vacation. I have five days off this week.

My ideal schedule that I'm working toward would be as follows:
Three days at the bookstore. Four days working from home.

I just love the whole free-form aspect of working from home. Two hours cataloging books in the morning over coffee, then packaging orders to take to the post office, then off to thrift shops and other resale shops in town in search of books to resell.
Lunch and visit with my mom and/or dad. Or lunch with my husband.
Then grocery shop, run errands and be home in plenty of time to clean house and plan and cook dinner.
Sweet.

I have had the best time these last two days doing just that.
Sour cream corn casserole and chicken with tomato and mozzarella cooking as I type.

Granted, it will be a while before my website affords me this luxury. Either that, or when my husband's salary can take up more of the slack. We just both zeroed out our credit card debt this month, so we're creating more wiggle room. Feels pretty good.

Ok, and because I know you're always looking for new recipes that are quick, tasty and easy, I give you....

Sour Cream Corn Casserole

1C. sour cream (I used 1/2c yogurt and 1/2c sour cream)
1 can creamed corn
1/2 stick butter melted
1 box jiffy corn bread mix
1 can kernel corn, drained
2 eggs beaten
1C. cheddar grated
1 small can chopped green chiles

Combine all ingredients. Pour into greased 8x8 casserole dish. Bake at 350 for 45 minutes.

I just tasted it and it is super good. Like all things that are bad for you are.

Why can't I bake good bread?

2007-10-28T11:17:00.000-04:00

I envy the rest of the creatures on the planet. Because they instinctively know what they need to do. They know how to build their homes, they know what to eat, they know who their predators are, they know where they need to be each season and what they need to be doing.

I often wonder what is the "natural" existence supposed to look like for humans? If we were auto-wired at one time to be sort of in-sync humans, what kind of homes did we build? Out of what? What did we gravitate toward as a food source? What did we instinctively avoid?

It's not that I don't appreciate choice and ingenuity. We as a species have created some amazing things. But we are also responsible for stuff like Clinton Highway.
I just wonder what we are all about when you strip it back down.

Warm and dry. Quenched and sated.

I think I'll go build a fire.

21st Century Bitch

2007-10-27T21:28:00.001-04:00

I'm becoming quite the 40-something year old grouch. I went to an antique mall today that I visit about every six months and I found myself being a complete bitch to the owner. Not that she doesn't deserve it. She is always there; always attacks you as you walk in the door, follows you around and makes really obnoxious pressury comments regarding everything you pick up to examine. I've just found that her type needs some personality nettles to keep her at bay. I just want to browse in peace for goodness sake. I know what I like. Right?

Plus when I was checking out, two of the items I chose were priced with stickers and she balked, saying that "that was the price we paid" and made me pay twice the price per item.

I really can't stand her.

Ok, but it's not just her I act out against. I am finding myself increasingly annoyed by profit-driven personalities. The fakey sugary following me around all over the store shit, the "do you have anything on the bottom of your cart?" shit, the pretend stocking/shelving right next to me while I'm browsing shit.

I AM NOT A THIEF for God's sake.

Give me some breathing room.

I recently read a book called "I Passed As a Teen" written by a thirty-something woman who posed as a high school teenager for a semester in order to write an article about teens. This was in the late sixties.

One of her conclusions was that teenagers are incredibly put-upon by their superiors; lots of "Don't do this", "Don't do that", "If I catch you doing so and so, you will be..", etc....
She claimed that teenagers were basically being yelled at all day and barely being really looked at as god honest human beings. She predicted that it was only a matter of time before the teenagers "snapped" and acted out against the system.
And guess what? She was absolutely right.

And it's not just teenagers. All of us are being treated as nothing more than pockets to pick these days.

I find myself feeling increasingly demoralized as I encounter more and more red light ticket cameras at my usual intersections. Is there any aspect of our lives that doesn't involve a hand in our pockets?

Ok, so if you encounter me in public and try to sell me something or try to imply that I am going to deprive you of something, then guess what?, I am going to be bitchy to you.

On the other hand, if you visit my store and need help or info, I will give it to you gladly and leave you to your own decision-making processes; no pressure. I promise.
You know what you like. Right?

Bored? Here's an idea....

2007-10-24T19:55:00.000-04:00

Today my husband left for yet another out of town trip (hopefully the last one). I got busy with catching up on housework because my boss went on vacation last week and I haven't had a day off in 10 days.

At some point I started thinking some paranoid thoughts along the lines of "what if our stuff got stolen?" and I decided to spend the remainder of the day recording serial numbers and and taking photos.

I have to say....you should do it. Whoever you are. It's a little bit of a pain in the ass, but really not too bad and my goodness, think of the hours and hours of headaches you will be saving on the other end.

I started in my office and just went room to room meticulously copying down serial numbers off of any and all electronic devices and following up with a digital picture.

I also took photos of my "stuff" because my memory is bad and it would be helpful to have photos of my artwork and books and stuff.

At the end of the project, I copied my digital camera pictures onto two CDs; one to store at home and one at work.

Take half a day and do this. You will feel much better and be waaaay ahead of the game if, god forbid, anything should happen.

Thinking about quality again

2007-10-22T08:51:00.000-04:00

I was watching Tim Gunn's Style show the other day and got to thinking about "core" stuff. The few pieces of stuff that you own that are actually nice or worth hanging onto long term. With his show, it's about your core clothes, but what about your other belongings?

I feel like my life has been defined with the cliche of not being able to have nice things. Granted, that's mainly because of having so many animals sharing my space, so it's not all my fault. But along with that, I am seemingly addicted to changing things up. The animals have trained me to shop with disposability and thriftiness in mind. The only breakable stuff I have is contained within the kitchen cabinet. Any cloth item must be washing machinable..I mean machine washable. There must be no significant investment or attachment to any furniture because it might need to be tossed into the ditch at a moment's notice.

I found a box of pictures when I was cleaning out my workshop the other day and it was interesting to look back on my various versions of interior decorating. I tried to pick out things that I'm still using or still own. Mostly it boiled down to artwork. I rarely will throw out a piece of art. Everything else though, was totally different.

My home often feels more like a stage set than anything else.
I don't mind it really. It keeps things fun and unpredictable. Every now and then I will find myself envying a more old-fashioned type of person who has generations of heirlooms and fine furniture. But I just don't think I would really enjoy that for very long. It would feel like being chained to a bunch of stuff for family's sake.

I have conflicting visions about my perfect house. Part of me wants the tidy bungalow with lots of sunshine and tall ceilings and natural wood. Another part of me mentally designs something more like an airplane hangar with concrete floors and retractable walls. Lots of indoor/outdoor areas. Mostly I crave big open organized space.

I also find myself mentally trying to design the ideal long-term furniture for pet-owners. I came up with a great couch idea the other night. But being as I don't build stuff, it most likely will never get made. Or if my husband takes a stab at it, it will end up weighing 500 pounds.

Gimpy gifter

2007-10-08T14:03:00.000-04:00

I absolutely abhor gift-giving deadlines.

And I really resent the gift-giving industry for establishing these deadlines.
Because for someone like me, who is actually, believe-it-or-not, generous, but also kind of psychologically disoriented, it makes me look like poo-poo.

I just can't buy a gift on cue.
I want to give people things that are unique and specific and perfect to their personalities and needs.

I can't do that at the mall at the 11th hour.
I give people stuff all the time. But I like to do it unprompted. Unexpectedly.
I love finding the perfect thing and sending it off. I really think those make the best gifts.

Christmas is approaching and I'm getting tense already. I've been trying to phase Christmas gift-giving out for the last few years. At least the gift exchanging that goes on between the adults. Or at the very least, just drawing names and buying for one person seems much more logical.

My mom's birthday dinner is tonight and thankfully, I found something cool and unique a few months ago to give her.

I am so lucky that my husband has the same handicap. We absolutely do not hold it against the other when an important occasion comes and goes without a gift. And we both are really good at making it up when least expected.

37914

2007-10-05T23:32:00.000-04:00

Our neighborhood is, if nothing else, a source of weekly excitement. My husband and I are frequent background extras in multiple hypothetical COPS episodes.

There was the pistol whipping episode, the woman screaming and hauled out on a stretcher episode, the stolen car crashed into the neighbor's driveway and then the attempt to haul it off with another stolen car using a rope episode and oh Lord so much else.

Tonight was the first night my husband was off on a business trip and guess what?
A new COPS episode!!!

We had a truck crash mightily into the oak tree by the road and bounce back into our deep ditch.
Apparently, there were multiple people involved in the crash, but the chicken shit, in-shock from head-wounds dudes took off and left their woman to take the heat.

I heard a big boom and looked out and saw basically a truck parked in my front yard. Within minutes there were ambulances, fire-trucks, police cars and two tow trucks.

This is our life. Pretty much. Lots of weekly or bi-weekly emergency-vehicle visits.

Kind of fun to be perfectly honest.
Kind of annoying though when I spend the rest of the night checking the backyard and woods for intoxicated dudes with head wounds and the next day picking headlight parts out of my front yard.

My zip code needs it's own tv show.

Dodged the cutest bullet ever

2007-10-03T23:03:00.000-04:00

I was trying to find my needle-felting customer's ebay site today when I came across this OMG CUTEST LITTLE FAWN THAT EVER WAS FELTED!!!

I have to come clean and admit that it was me that pushed the bidding up to $89.00.

That's right, you heard me, 89.00 dollars.

But you can see the little fawn and you can see where I'm coming from.

IT'S JUST THE CUTEST FUCKING THING EVER CREATED!!!

I had to back out at $89.00 though just on common sense principle. I made myself admit to my husband that I was having a crack-addict moment and needed some slapping around. He obliged. I am out of the auction.

For those of you who might have been caught up in the hypnotic tractor pull of the cuteness; the auction ends around midnight tonight and you still have a chance against 4210kathy. She's up to $93.78.

BTW, fuck 4210kathy. I hate that bitch.

Chupacabra

2007-10-01T15:47:00.001-04:00

Here's our elusive prey. Not a great picture, but I had to take it from far away. He skitters off when you get too close. Isn't he pretty?

We bought him a Fred Flintstone sized cow femur last night at Food City and he's taken to dragging it around with him. It's behind him in this picture, although you can't really tell.

Skilz

2007-10-01T11:43:00.001-04:00

I think scouting-type badges for adults is a good idea. Lots of people unfortunately just didn't have parents that knew beans about certain things.
My dad, for instance, practically instilled in me that you should hire a professional for each and every situation...he didn't even trust himself to change the flashlight batteries. I'm not quite so helpless (thanks to my mom), but there are lots of things that I've had to messily figure out for myself.

Badges might include:

Resume writing
Negotiating for a raise
Bill paying
House cleaning
Cooking
Yard work
Pet Ownership
Parenting
Sex
Entertaining
Having a yard sale
Grilling
Programming the TIVO/VCR/DVR
Laundry
Budgeting
Changing your oil
Voting/Politics
Spousing
Locating the main water shut off valve (hee..funny story....)
Tipping

It would be fun don't you think? Badges. Sashes. Classes. Field trips. Uniforms.

What should the top scouting rank be called? The Grown-up? The Huxtable?

A Dangerous Drinking Game

2007-09-30T20:55:00.001-04:00

Just try not to get wasted if you watch Extreme Home Makeover and take a drink everytime someone says "OH MY GOD".

Not that I did this or anything....

Neep-neep

2007-09-30T13:07:00.000-04:00

Daily I marvel at my husband's clever patched-together engineering skills where it applies to catching the stray neighborhood pit bull.

We started with an official Humane Society cage which only managed to attract stray cats and raccoons.

But from there, things have gotten interesting.

For a week, he turned the vacant pony barn into an impressive trap. He secured the second door and then installed three automatic latches on the front door. To insure that the dog would be captured, he hung a net full of dog food from the ceiling beams attached to a long line that somehow ran through the door. The way it was supposed to work was that the dog would jump up to eat the hanging food and by pulling down the net bag, the line would be pulled and the door would close and latch.

Ok so that was awesome, but it didn't work. We woke up a few days with a shut door, but it must've been raccoons or cats, because they made it out through small holes under the walls.

Ok, so trap number two is in place now. My husband has created a "pen" at the end of our fenced in yard. He took a dog food bowl, rigged it up so that it's held by a metal hook to the door of the fence, which is attached to a taut bungee cord.
Supposedly when the dog eats, the bowl will be pushed down, the hook disengages and releases the fence that will slam shut with the bungee cord pulling it.

It's all very cool. Ultimately ineffectual, but cool. Kind of Moby Dick/ Wile E. Coyote situation we have going here.

My husband likes to say that this isn't his new hobby, but I'm not so sure.

I'm onto them

2007-09-28T08:58:00.000-04:00

Ever meet someone who you wouldn't be a bit surprised to learn was an alien?

We've got this couple that's been visiting our store for a few years now. I forget where they are from, but it's another state. Maybe north originally. Maybe Florida now.
They are both probably in their mid-sixties.

The woman is small and thin, has a complexion like a wad of clay sprayed down with olive oil. She always wears this hat that reminds me of an Edwardian newsboy. It's dark blue or charcoal with a longer brim.
She is loud and exuberant and exclaims over everything.

The man is tall with thin legs and arms, but a nice large protruding gut. He always wears a silky shiny football jersey with three quarter length sleeves and shorts. His hair is gray and cut into a weird Prince Valiant style, but longer.
He is a chronic mutterer; always having his own private hilarious eurekas.

They tell me that they have a singing act that they do in retirement homes. One of them plays piano and they both sing old-fashioned popular tunes.
They're always telling me retirement home anecdotes. I used to encourage it, but I try to hurry them up nowadays.

They are so oddly "off". Always benign and upbeat. Always in character. Very much "Third Rock From the Sun".

I think if we did have aliens among us; they would mainly be like these folks, although I would hope that a few genius peacemakers would choose to make the trip as well.

Synchronicity

2007-09-25T10:35:00.000-04:00

So last week one of my regular customers came into the store with her kids. I like this girl; she reminds me of the first Sharona from the show Monk.
She was having a particularly hard time that day with the various helpless men in her life, who kept calling her on her cellphone and handing off assorted problems and tasks.
Her day was quickly turning into one big sigh and eye-roll.

In an attempt to give her a little bright spot, I slipped a kid's book that she liked into her bag.

Anyway, she came back a few days ago and handed me a little rose pin that she had made. But get this...it was needle-felted! Just the night before, I had sat down to read the first chapter of my new needle-felting book.

As it turns out, this woman, "Sharona", makes all kinds of stuff and also teaches. Plus she spins yarn and belongs to a wool guild that she invited me to sit in on. How weird is all that?

She's challenged me to have something made by her next visit. I haven't even picked up a needle yet. Yikes.

Some stuff from the morning

2007-09-25T09:59:00.001-04:00

First conscious moments of age 40:

Waking from a dream in which there was a new kind of weather. The sky was filled with three-dimensional clouds that took their shape and design from the frost patterns you see on window panes. It was somewhat Tim Burtonesque. Very beautiful.

Then I woke up and spanked (just one quick butt smack) my Eddie Haskell of a cat for being obnoxious.
If he thinks you're sleeping too long, he will find something that really really annoys you and just keep doing it until you get up.
For a while it was systematically pushing things off my dresser with his paw. One earring..scooot...drop...roll. Another earring...scoot...drop...roll. Coins, pencils, a book. Jerk.

Then he decided that rabbit-kicking whatever cat was sleeping beside me was good sport.If that didn't work, he'd pull on the window shades or slowly scratch the wallpaper.

Now he's discovered the living room closet doors. They're the sliding kind; two panels; unattached at the floor. So he hooks a paw underneath and pulls them out and lets them drop back which makes a deep thumping sound.

I thank God I am not parent to his human equivalent. He is completely irresistable and completely full of it. I would probably have to let him join a band.

Having a beer gut is so much easier

2007-09-23T23:25:00.000-04:00

I've had a gym membership for about 4 or 5 years now. At first I amazed myself by how often I went. I mentally did the math every day on my way home and figured I'd have it all down to pennies a visit in no time.

Hahahahaha.

Rather, in no time, I have ceased visiting at all.
I did get up my momentum a few months ago and started going a few days a week and it felt good. But then some twit of a desk dude decided to make me his personal greeting project.

It went something like this:

Me: Walking in, 6:30am, still sleepy.
Him: HEY there! How are you this morning?
Me: Mumble mumble good fine.
Him: Don't like to talk much do you? Gotta a big workout planned? Well, ok then, enjoy your work-out!

Me: Leaving, 7:20am, trying to avoid the notice of desk dude on my way out the door.
Him: Not gonna say bye? Did you have a good work-out? What did you do? Cardio? Weights? You're shy aren't you? Heading home? Oh, work? Where do you work? You like to read? So you're a bookworm huh? Little grumpy this morning, are ya?

So I encountered the dude about three or four times and just didn't want to go back.
Stupid I know. But come on; I just want to walk in the door, wave my barcode tag and go have a quiet workout.
I don't need to be "drawn out" or coddled.
He really bugged the crap out of me.

So, I've decided to cancel my membership, seeing as how I'm really not using it and also seeing as how something so petty can throw me off my workout course.
I've decided instead to travel down another well-worn "throw your money away" path; that being a home workout machine.
In this case, just a cross-trainer thingy with a digital readout.
I'm gonna put it in the basement and get my husband to hook up a tv down there so that working out won't be so boring.

You can already see the dust gathering on the machine in your mind, can't you?

What's for dinner?

2007-09-19T20:52:00.000-04:00

I'm a big believer in systems. I like organization. I don't always take the time to implement good systems, but I still like to try.
My latest fantasy is to compile a family cookbook specific to mine and my husband's tastes and budget.

I have a calendar with pockets and every month I print out new recipes to try. If we both give the recipe a thumbs up, then at the end of the year, it gets hole-punched and put into a ring-binder.

I want to get this down to a science though. The whole nine yards.
What ingredients to keep on hand, when to buy them based on how perishable they are and when they will be used. What I'm going to make every day of the week.
Factor in leftovers potential so that I can save money on work lunches.
Work more vegetables and salads into the mix. Keep the weekly fat factor down as much as possible.
Lots to think about.

Meats are no problem. My husband would happily skip between hot dogs, hamburgers and steak all day long. It's coming up with healthy side dishes that are problematic.
He doesn't like cooked broccoli or cauliflower. He thinks corn is pretty useless. Red and green peppers are a no go. He's lukewarm about sauteed cabbage. We both like sauteed zucchini and squash, but you can only do that so many days a week.
Salads are good; I need to make that happen more often.

I just know that I spend far too much on groceries. I am a stocking-up addict. I think having a good system in place would help us eat better and save bunches of money.

Okeley dokeley

2007-09-19T15:44:00.000-04:00

Why do so many Southern Baptist men emasculate their voices, so that it seems as if they are channeling Mr. Rogers?
"Shucks. I am a simple plump bumblebear with pocketsfull of pastel yarn." Soft chuckle chuckle.
The women do their own version of it. Everything they say might as well be:
"I am queen of the fairy kittens and I only eat marshmallows with pink candy sprinkles."

My secret shame

2007-09-18T21:44:00.000-04:00

I am steeping my brain in the luxury that is fall t.v. premieres this week.
I bought my fall preview TV guide the other day and have already programmed my tv to record stuff I might miss.
I am so hooked on my "stories".
Tonight: Biggest Loser (Gillian's secret black team kicked butt).
Tim Gunn's Guide to Style.

I recorded Beauty and the Geek to watch later. I love that show. It's really sweet, no kidding. I think it's one of the few good competitive reality shows out there. And they have one of the highest hook-up rates to boot, despite not being a dating show. I think it's because some of the smarter ladies learn the value of hooking up with a geek.
I know I did.

Power of the Press

2007-09-14T08:34:00.000-04:00

I was sorting through my photos and came across this one.

I took it about 5 years ago on Magnolia.
Because it was funny.
But as soon as I started clicking, a woman rushed out of the building and confronted me. She was so nervous. She wanted to know what paper I worked for and demanded that I leave the property.
When I drove by an hour later, the whole mess was cleaned up.

Twisted critters

2007-09-13T21:59:00.000-04:00

After a nice tropical month of lizard weather, I finally brought my iguana, Lois, back inside to her inside cage. She has been crazy with energy, so tonight I opened the door and let her roam the house.
Now Lois is resting on top of a row of books in my bedroom.
And two of the cats have taken over her cage.

All my guys crack me up.

In which my reading skills are validated

2007-09-13T09:47:00.000-04:00

I found out yesterday that the novel that I selected to be considered for the Peter Taylor Prize actually won!
I feel proud like it was my kid or something that won.
I can't wait to meet the author.

It's a really good book btw. Once the news is public, I'll share more info.

A month ago I wrangled a snake in science fiction

2007-09-13T08:20:00.000-04:00

10:20: Arrive at work.
10:21: Approach front door and notice something on the walkway.Realize it is a hornet nest covered in hornets.
10:22: Walk around to the other side of the ramp and let myself in the store. Put stuff down on counter. Monitor walkway and think about solutions. "What would the croc hunter do?"
10:24: Run and get a large thick plastic cup. Squat near nest and gauge hornets reactions when I move the cup near their heads.
10:25: Decide that I am chickenshit.
10:26 Phone rings and I have to go inside to answer it.
10:27 Co-worker arrives. I frantically wrap up phone conversation and manage to stop co-worker just in time from stepping on nest with flip flops.
10:28 Mailman offers to stomp nest. I decline offer.
10:29 Co-worker runs to business next door in search of poison.
10:30 I fashion a rope handle at the bottom of the plastic cup, hook it at the end of a long broom handle and slowly lower cup down over nest. Success!
10:31 Examine new situation. Realize it's still scary. Hornets are completely pissed at cup.
10:32 Slide cardboard under cup. Tape cup to cardboard to prevent transportation accidents. Walk cup through store to back door.
Open door. Tear off some tape. Fling whole package hard and fast. Close door.
10:32 Turn around and notice mouse carcass on floor behind me. Sigh.

Number One Fan

2007-09-13T07:59:00.000-04:00

Nature Quiz

2007-09-12T09:35:00.000-04:00

Anyone know what these flowers are called? They are all over my yard.

We call him Root

2007-09-12T09:11:00.001-04:00

Did I mention that we have been trying to catch a newly strayed Pit Bull for about two weeks?

He first appeared wearing a collar with about three feet of line hanging from it, so I figured he escaped from his yard.

After a few days, the collar disappeared, but before it did, the neighbor kid got a number off of it.
He called the owners and turns out they live in South Knoxville (we live in East Knox; how the heck he got from there to here is a mystery). They said he had been gone for two weeks and that they'd be over later that afternoon.

That was about a week ago. As far as I know, they never showed (and no one wrote the number down so we can't call back).

My husband got a trapping cage from the humane society and has been baiting it every night. And every morning I go out and release well-fed raccoons and stray cats.

This dog is gorgeous. He's brown and white and his brown parts are brindled. He's got a great form and seems to have a really fine temperment.
I think of him as Ferdinand the Bull. He sits in our backyard and sniffs the air and the grass with a big smile on his face.

But the fact is, he's a Pit Bull and it's doing no good to have him running loose. I don't think he's been neutered so there's the chance that breeders/fighters will pick him up and mess his life up.
And someone might just get out a gun and shoot him if he comes onto their property where there are kids or animals.

I wish he weren't so danged smart. He will not get in that cage.

As my hunting friend said, "He's gone to school on us".

Patriotic Day My Ass...(Bush's America)

2007-09-11T21:04:00.000-04:00

So on the way to work this morning, I passed the TVA Fair marquee and of course they have co-opted Tuesday September 11, 2007 as "Patriotic Day".
Which sounds stupid to me. Why not "National Pride Day", "Civic Responsibility Day"?, but I digress...

So here's what's happening on my street on "Patriotic Day".

My neighbor is a 30-something year old single mother of two teenaged sons. She's doing her best with a part-time job substitute teaching at $45-$65 a day.

One son has been accepted to chef school, but tuition is $10,000 per year plus a laptop and supplies. She is so proud, but has no idea how she's going to pay the bills.

The other son wants to join the army. I really want to talk him out of that. He is such a great kid. Screw him dying before he's 20 because of misguided bullshit.

Yesterday, their power was shut off by the utility company and tonight we have an extension cord running from our house to theirs to supply the power needed to keep this week's groceries from spoiling and keep their lights on.

It just pisses me off. All of it.

Trust

2007-09-11T09:42:00.000-04:00

My dog developed a peanut-sized tumor on her ass.
Poor girl is at the vet for surgery as I type.
She really didn't like the part where I handed her over to someone strange and walked out the door.
I really didn't like it either.
I can't imagine having a human child.

A wee bit of giddy

2007-09-10T09:49:00.000-04:00

I think I may have finally found an artisitic medium that resonates with me. I say "may have" because I haven't actually tried my hand at it, but it really appeals to me.
I didn't know til' last night that it's called needle felting. You use special needles to sculpt wool into solid forms, like dolls, hats, bags, paintings, jewelry etc...
I'm drawn to the doll/figure making potential.
I suck at sewing. I'm not that skilled at painting. I don't have the patience or resources for sculpting from more traditional mediums such as metal or wood. Knitting is too technical and most knitted stuff looks dumb when you finish with it.
But I do have a pretty good sense for spatial relations and form and color, so I think I can pull this off.
And I LOVE felt. And tiny things. And things that don't break.
I now understand the connection between all the little things I've been compelled to own. I have a felted hat, a set of 1930's tiny russian peasant dolls with felted-like faces and bodies, several small handmade felted cats.
It's the one area of frivolous buying that I can't seem to reason myself out of.
So it makes sense that I should see if I have any aptitude for it.

I ordered a basic mess of supplies and a few books this morning. That's going to be my 40th birthday present to myself.
That, and a bottle of expensive single malt scotch (I've always wanted to try that too).
If this turns into an online business, I can always call myself The Drunken Felter.

Afterward we played skeeball

2007-09-10T00:04:00.000-04:00

My husband and I drove to the mountains today ostensibly in search of new man pants, but somehow we never got around to that.
We did however, go bungee-jumping.
I've always wanted to give myself the opportunity to do that and wasn't sure how I would be on the actual diving board part.
I'm happy to say, I did just fine. I jumped on the second "one, two, three".

Ok, that was great and all, but what pissed me off were the employees.
I mean, statistically I could get hurt or die, right?
And what are they doing? Yawn, yawn...big party last night...must lay frat boy head down on wooden shelf and close frat boy eyes.
Not just one of them, but TWO were napping at their station.
These are the dudes who outfit and strap customers in.

I mean, come on, they could at least have some of those glasses with "wide-awake" eyes painted on them just to make me feel like I'm worth some effort.

Lordy, I'm almost _ _ _ _ _

2007-09-09T10:34:00.000-04:00

I'm about to turn 40.
The number itself doesn't bother me; I'm ok with my age.
I think what's got me down a bit is trying to chart my progress as a human that's been around for 40 years.
I'm not sure I'm evolving.

Positive growth:

I rarely suffer from severe depression anymore.
I don't lose things much anymore.
I'm less dramatic.

No growth:

Self-absorbed.
Neglectful.
Overly-sensitive.
Insecure.
Habitual.
Low-risk.
Still not creating art despite ideas and opportunity.

That just doesn't look good on the whole.
Is this the stuff of middle-age crisises?

I just want to know I'm making this all count for something.

Does not stimulate fish cravings

2007-09-09T08:10:00.000-04:00

I like weathered gray Cape Cod style clapboard, but don't you think that the new Captain D's building design looks like an easter egg market or a baby shower gift shop?

They just went too far with the pastel theme.

If you can't really see what I'm talking about in this photo, just mentally remove the Captain D's logo on the gable and replace it with a big blue bow.

Hands Off

2007-09-07T12:31:00.000-04:00

Avoiding Kids

When I was younger, my mom ran a daycare from our home. This was during the mid '70's through the early '80's. When we started keeping the kids, there was no common social paranoia about child molestation.

I can remember when things shifted somewhat though. I don't recall if it was a local or national story, but there was a daycare provider that became the center of a huge scandal in which many of the kids started reporting sexual abuse.
This was in the news for months as more and more children came forth and the couple who ran the daycare were vilified and torn apart by the press.
It turns out later that it's likely that nothing ever happened.

But the damage was done and even in our own daycare, we could sense a shift in public perception. We all became more guarded and careful about our interactions with the children. I was a kid myself, but even I started feeling afraid of being accused of something untoward.
And you know, I still carry a bit of that paranoia with me.

I hate that, like with everything else that was once good, a few bad apples take our society one more notch backward.

I find it really sad that most people are no longer comfortable giving children physical reassurance or helping a distressed or endangered child without fear of their help being seen as inappropriate.

Just a few weeks ago, here in town, a three year old boy was seen wandering down along a busy main road with a dog. And instead of feeling comfortable getting the boy off the road and riding him home, a concerned driver instead, had to put on her hazard lights and drive slowly alongside the boy until the police could get there.

Something similar also happened a few months back, when two extremely young kids were found playing on some train tracks. The driver who found them used his truck to block traffic until the police could arrive, but felt too paranoid to get out of his car and approach the kids.

So which way will public perception swing when a child ends up getting hurt because of "hands-off" approach?

One memory I have that means a lot to me to this day is that of my fourth grade teacher holding me on her lap while I sobbed about a problem I was having. At that moment I needed to be listened to and cared for by someone to which I looked up and respected. I'd hate to think that doesn't happen anymore.

Too Much NPR

2007-09-06T09:41:00.000-04:00

Most mornings when I wake up, I say to myself what day of the week it is, so that I can get my head oriented.

On Thursdays however, it goes something like this:

"Today is Thursday; the day we read from your letters."

Too much Bravo TV

2007-09-06T09:39:00.000-04:00

Ever get a word stuck in your head and you have no idea what it means?

I've had "mascarpone" floating around for a few days. I think it has something to do with food.

Ok..just checked..it is a very soft italian cheese.

Good to know.

Fun October Release

2007-09-05T08:40:00.000-04:00

This book looks like a load of fun.
We come across hilarious titles and odd cover art all the time at my job.
I've actually had the Scouts book before.
I'm surprised no one has put them together until now.

Amazon Link

Saying a proper goodbye

2007-09-04T22:42:00.000-04:00

A friend of mine just had his aged dog put down today. Very emotional. I can't even imagine how I'll get through that when the time comes for my dogs to go.

But the news reminded me of an issue over which I've been conflicted for like three or four years now.

I used to be close friends with a girl a few years back and during the course of our friendship, her dog grew ill and had to be put down.
I stood by her during the downhill slide and was with her and her dog on the fateful day.

My friend gave me a ziploc bagful of the dog's ashes to dispose of in my own personal way and at the time I pictured the ashes going in my garden or at the base of a tree or something.
I put it off, wanting just the perfect thing and during the time I put it off, my friend and I fell out.

So fast-forward to three years later and I still have this bag of beloved doggie ashes and I haven't spoken to said friend in the time that has passed.

What do I do?

I harbor absolutely no ill feelings for my ex-friend. I liked her.
I liked her dog too.
I feel honored that I have some ashes and that I was there physically and emotionally for the final moments.

But what do I do?

It's too late and too weird to send the ashes back to her. Plus I don't even know where I would mail them to.
I might move from this house in a year or so, so anything I do here would be, in my opinion, a sort of waste. Plus the dog never had any significant memories in my yard.

I'm thinking I might go over to to her old apartment complex and shake them out on the lawn.

That sounds ok.

I just want rid of this responsibility and these remains. I want to honor the dog and put this chapter to rest.

P.S. My husband is supremely unsympathetic and atheistic and says so what? He probably has a point.
I maintain that a bit of decorum is required.

Well Look at Me

2007-09-04T09:45:00.000-04:00

After two years at this, I finally stumbled onto the page here where you can add links.
What a relief.

Looks like a few of them don't work, so I'll tinker some more later.

I think of a few of my favorite things.....

2007-09-03T23:12:00.000-04:00

I think easily, hands down, my favorite smell is that of a camp-fire/bon-fire/wood fueled fire.

It instantly transports me to a feeling of "damn, ok, stop, drop and relax".

I love it when some of my customers approach the counter and their thick woolen overshirts smell of woodsmoke. I always comment to the positive.

I have been lucky enough to find an incense that does a good job of capturing that wonderful scent:

http://tinyurl.com/2eljnv

This incense is awesome.

Some of the local asian markets carry it, but I've had better luck ordering it online.

Enjoy!

Good advice you can't buy

2007-09-03T22:25:00.001-04:00

Hey guess what?

Among the other things that ants like to eat, apparently record albums/sleeves are also included.

I just had to extricate and fumigate a whole boxload of ant-compromised albums today.

With larvae.

Gag.

That is all.

I really want to know

2007-09-01T07:54:00.000-04:00

Ok, here's a question that's been at my brain for a long time now.
You know there are "dorks" right? I'm picturing the comic book/Star Trek/Star Wars variety, but then you also have the extremely smart/socially awkward/pocket-protector group.
And there's a shared "differentness" about these folks. Different things fire up their funny bone, influence their fashion sense, peak their interest.
So my question is basically, when did the "dork" appear in society?
Were there cave man dorks? Dorks in ancient Rome? Medieval dorks? And if so, what role did they play in society? What jobs were they attracted to? Did other cultures create a name for this subset of personality types? Did they wear their togas too short or have mismatched leggings?
How many pre-twentieth-century dorks were simply lumped under the category of eccentric?

Or is the dork a by-product of technology?

Counting down

2007-08-28T13:41:00.000-04:00

The big deal bookdealer will be here in twenty minutes. House is clean. Books are displayed nicely. Lightbulbs changed for optimal viewing. One beer down to relax my nerves.

I keep trying to prepare from the perspective of her having just left and me being racked with "I should've's".
I feel pretty good.

Eeek.

Hannah Freaking Montana

2007-08-26T22:44:00.000-04:00

Wow, this Hannah Montana trend is crazy.
My sister called me Friday to tell me that she would be busy Saturday morning and would I log on and try to get 4 tickets for my niece and her friends.
I went next door to the Disc Exchange and asked my friend/employees if they could hold any tickets back for me. The manager said she would try to hold two, but "no guarantees".
I got up Saturday morning and logged on and bought four tickets. Seemed pretty straight-forward.
I find out otherwise later.
There was a line outside the Disc Exchange about an eighth of a mile long and only the first five people in line got tickets.
And from what I heard from the DE employees, nobody they knew got any tickets online.
So what happened to me was some kind of weirdass miracle fluke.
Thank god.
My sister called me later to verify "Did you REALLY get the tickets?!" because none of the 30+ friends of hers who logged online that morning got anything.
I have a verification number, so I assume I'm good.
If I were my sister, I'd just sell the tickets for like a thousand dollars; buy my niece a video and CD and put the money into a college fund.
Crazy.

End of the day beer is good

2007-08-26T22:20:00.000-04:00

Lots of things are happening and coming together in a good way.
First, we were going to buy a house and then we didn't. But along the way, we rented a storage unit to begin to put unused items into.
Then I packed up all my personal books and put them into storage.
Then I get a call from a bigtime bookdealer who wants to come by my house to shop.
So now, I have all my shelves free to set up the books for her to browse, without having to traipse through my bedroom.
Then I had to close my antique mall booth which gives me two great new bookcases to set up in my house.
Then my husband buys a truck which makes it easier to move all kinds of things.
Then I get his car which is great, because my car was on the verge of crapping out.
And that gives us a decoy car to leave at home when we aren't there, so as to thwart thieves.
Which is great, because my husband will have to do some more travelling soon.
On the whole, I'm happy and optimistic, but admittedly worn out from moving so much stuff.
I love good positive change.

Yet another pet peeve

2007-08-14T08:00:00.001-04:00

So I've been looking and looking at real estate lately. And poring over photos of interiors of homes. And I'm going along, looking at a perfectly decent house that has honest potential and some precious Dolly Dingle has befouled every window with sheer ruffled curtains.
I see the same contamination with the majority of rental cabins in the Smokies as well.
Perfectly nice place to stay and then BAM; you're hit with trailer park aesthetics.
I don't get the appeal of Ruffled Curtains.
The house I own presently came with a set on each window and the previous owner made a big deal of bequeathing them to me as part of the conveyence.
I conveyed them quickly to the garbage can.

Crazy Day

2007-08-14T07:42:00.001-04:00

Yesterday, I followed my husband over to a repair shop because the alternator on his car had gone bad. We came back home in my car and I then headed downtown to run an errand. When I got into my car to come home, my Low Coolant light came on. I just barely made it into a convenient store parking lot when steam started pouring out of the vents.
I called my husband and he offered to ride over on his bike. He shows up 20 minutes later and we realize after filling the coolant tank and starting the car up, that the problem is more serious. So we call a tow truck. In the meantime, this is not a convenient store at which you want to be for more than maybe five minutes. While we were there, a sting operation went down out front and a guy was handcuffed and taken in.
The towtruck got there pretty fast though, and we rode over with him to a nearby mechanic. Dropped my car off and walked up to the brewery, had a few beers and ran into another friend who's car just happened to be in a nearby shop.

Anyway, all in all, very weird timing. That both my and my husband's cars would end up out of commission on the same day and that just when we needed a ride to pick one of them up, a friend's car is within walking distance.

My car's damage is a busted heater coil? core? I reckon I'll have it fixed.

In which the small business owner is confused

2007-08-13T10:01:00.000-04:00

Like I said a while back, I finally officially registered my business this year. So I got my "Business License and Tax Report" as well as another form that requires filling out and mailing back, and danged if I can make heads or tails out of either one of them.
So I have to go downtown today and get someone to sit down with me and help me so that I'm not pummeled with an audit or fine.
I also got an annual inventory form to fill out. I swear I already filled one out a few months ago.
They are really interested in my stuff.
I wonder maybe if I can de-register my business. Sales are pretty low the last few months and technically fall below the licensing requirements.
I'm just hating all this paperwork.

Even More Twisty Twist

2007-08-10T09:04:00.000-04:00

We are not buying the house. Way too much pressure to synchronize selling our home and meeting the seller's needs on their closing date.
And you know what?
I feel good about it.

Honestly, as much as I don't like things about my present house, this economy is making me jittery. I'm not sure that it's a good time to be taking on a new mortgage.
We're going to continue to shop though.

Twist

2007-08-09T08:05:00.000-04:00

I mentioned the great new house. You know what comes with that entree of great new house? A side dish of having to sell my present crappy home in one month. There will be no sleeping for quite some time.
We think we have leads and fortunately we can afford to sell this house at a loss and be ok. Fingers crossed.

Word of Advice

2007-08-08T23:11:00.001-04:00

When shopping for a mortgage, never ever ever submit your information to LendingTree.com.
You will rue the day.

OMFG

2007-08-06T21:45:00.001-04:00

I can't believe how much your life can change in one weekend.
We just bought a kickass house!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh yeah, and my husband just got a call out of the blue with a job offer that would double his salary.

And thirdly, I just bought the best batch of kid's books of my 14 year career.

w00t, w00t, and woot!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fight Club

2007-08-03T06:48:00.000-04:00

After watching Fight Club last night:

"So I guess the whole point of the movie is that if you don't sleep, you can sure get a lot done."

Buy it already!!

2007-08-02T09:27:00.001-04:00

There is some goofus that has looked at a particular book on my website now 52 times. Over the course of a week.
If this were a really expensive book, I would understand. But this is a $6.00 dollar book.
It's driving me crazy.

Free Samples

2007-08-02T09:24:00.000-04:00

I honestly believe that there are two recipes for most any product; the one that fills a full-size container at the store and one that goes into free samples.
And guess what?
The free sample recipe is better.
You know why? Because that is how they hook you.

Honey Woman

2007-07-31T20:51:00.000-04:00

Tonight as I was walking to my car across the grocery store parking lot, I was asked,in all seriousness, "Are you the honey-woman?"

Good luck with getting to sleep tonight.

Smell your house

2007-07-31T14:40:00.000-04:00

You know how you sometimes go into other people's houses and their house has a distinct smell personality? And it's not really any one thing you can put your finger on. Maybe it's a house of incense junkies and it's easy to figure out; but usually it's just what it is and there's no duplicating it.
I've always wondered what my house smell is because, as I think is true for most of us, including the incense junkies, it's hard to smell your own home's smell profile.
Well today I figured out how to do it.

Step #1: Get together a box of books that's been sitting around in your house for a long while. Make sure these are books you don't mind getting hot and buckled.

Step #2: Wait for a really hot day.

Step #3: Put the box of books in your car and roll up the windows. Let the books bake in there for about four hours.

Step #4: Smell the books. There it is!

My house smells a bit granny-like, but with a touch of old cigarette smoke. Weird.

Milk Addict Breaks Silence

2007-07-31T12:03:00.000-04:00

Give a shout out to Kate and Jon.

In case the hilarious subject line doesn't clue you in; it's a baby thing.

Breaking news

2007-07-31T12:00:00.000-04:00

Star Jones: "I had gastric bypass surgery!"

Firstimpressionist: "I couldn't fucking care less!"

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JO ROWLING!!

2007-07-31T11:56:00.000-04:00

Thanks for your monumental contribution to young adult literature. Thanks for being such a smart, savvy, creative, strong woman. Thanks for never dumbing down your books or changing your narrative as a result of public pressure.

It's been a pleasure to make you a success.

2007-07-31T11:08:00.000-04:00

Does it bug you when you hand someone something to sign and they whip out their own "fancy" pen and eschew the pen you hand them?
It kind of bugs me.
I bet it bugs you too.
Like they're saying "Um, nooo, as if I would deign to slum with your cheapass pen? I'll be using my Cross/Mont Blanc/Parker thankyouverymuch..."

Bad Timing

2007-07-31T08:46:00.000-04:00

Really shitty (pardon the pun) time to launch a career using your real name if your real name is Alli.