Birthdays and Bookstores, Woot!
Yesterday was my birthday, and it was oh, so nice! The morning was spent very casually, just sort of laying around in my best lazy manner. Finally, I simply had to get dressed--no woman over 45 has any business being bra-less for more than 2 hours after rising! (Turn your mental puppet theaters off now! Do not let them go there!)
Now, at my brother's insistence (but I wasn't supposed to know that), my parents had called Saturday and flat ordered us down to their house for an impromptu barbecue--on their new George Foreman grill. Ordering us around is their way of showing affection. So, we duly shuffled down to their place (they only live two blocks away from us--but I'm fine with that. Really. *twitch twitch*). And.......
And they had put on a really nice spread! They had all the makings for truly great hamburgers--lettuce, tomatoes, condiments of all persuasions, very nifty keen. Somewhere, they purchased the biggest strawberries I have ever seen--oh, so juicy and sweet!! Not for the hamburgers, you twinkie--just for the eating! And my father had gone and purchased an actual, honest-to-goodness birthday cake for me. It was his favorite, chocolate on chocolate, but that's okay; that's my favorite, too! And did I think to take the camera so as to record this momentous occasion? Of course not! I didn't really expect such a to-do, so I wasn't prepared. Last year was my 50th birthday, I figured it was the milestone, not 51. I mean, who cares about a 51st birthday? That's like being the 1st runner up in the Miss America contest. All you really remember about a 1st runner up is bouffant hair and shiny white teeth.
I was honestly surprised--my parents were both in good moods, so the conversations went well. And of course, son Coelred and girlfriend Em were there, so he kept us in tears with laughter. Then, when I thought the day just couldn't get better, my brother hands me a $50 gift card for Barnes and Nobles!! Woot!!! Books!! My absolutely, no-doubt-about-it, favorite gift of all time is a gift card to a bookstore! And a $50 dollar one at that!! Hot damn! Let's go!
So, after we had spent about the minimally polite time there (after presentation of said gift card), my darling Lachlan and I sped off to B & N. Ahhhh, I love the smell in a bookstore. They smell of coffee and paper pulp--the smell of civilization! Bookstores are wonderful and I adore all of them--I don't care if it's part of a national chain or owned by a local bibliophile determined to enlighten at least one small corner of his hometown. Give me a hazelnut latte and stacks and stacks of books to peruse--and I could probably spend weeks there. I love to pick up books and thoroughly examine the cover, read the reviews posted in the flyleafs, check out the synopsis on the back that is trying so hard to convince me to buy this one. I think of those back covers as seductresses, striving to entice with just the right amount of information and yet convey enough mystery to pique the reader's curiosity. I wonder who writes those? I don't suppose it's the author of the book, I wonder how much a back cover writer gets paid? And what do they list as their occupation?
When we get in a bookstore, Lachlan and I usually check out the new arrivals: the latest and greatest, the ones the reviewers herald as this year's Great American Novel, the newest from James Patterson (well, think about it--when was the last time you went into a bookstore and James Patterson didn't have a new book out? See what I'm saying?) Then we split up to pursue our own interests. I'll usually check out my list of favorite authors and see if any of them have something new out, or if there's been a reissue of one I don't have in my collection yet. Then I thoroughly scour rows and rows of shelves to see what gems are there for my digging--oh, yes, check out the bargain books--anything there? Then it's off to the history section, or do I feel like reading some fiction? What's the science and math section bragging about? Hmmm, I don't normally read westerns, but this one is intriguing....
Somehow, we always manage to meet up at a table at roughly the same time. Then, with coffee cups in hand, we sip and snoop, sip and snoop. Sometimes we read bits to each other, "hey, listen to this..." or "this guy claims...." or "did you know that....." Finally, even the most comfortable of chairs can no longer holds us. Then comes the time I dread--choosing which books to buy! Oh, the agony of indecision! It kills me to put books back! "This book on knitting is good and has some great ideas, but it's not really as advanced as I'd like, but it's got such lovely patterns" or "I love this author, I've got to have her latest, but it's $30, I can't spend that much on one book, but she's soooo good" or "Oh, he's written a new one about my favorite character, but I can't get this book and not get this one....."
I'm not good at decisions. Deciding makes my stomach hurt. It's so hard to choose, and I always feel like I should apologize to the books I'm not buying. Silly, I know; but I know this as well--there's nothing easy about writing (James Patterson aside, I mean). Writing is hard, difficult work and every book in that store is someone's baby. Somebody wrote that book, put their heart into it, poured their knowledge and time into one convenient, small package here--and you're rejecting it! (Now, let's see how you feel next time you go to the bookstore!)
In the end, I finally chose two histories and a metaphysical: "Manhunt: the 12-Day Chase for Lincoln's Killer" by James L. Swanson, because I'm not really familiar with what went on after Lincoln's assassination; "The Wars of the Roses" by Alison Weir--this is actually a re-issue of one of her earlier historical works that I hadn't had a chance to pick up before; and "The Spiral Dance: A Rebirth of the Ancient Religion of the Great Goddess" by Starhawk. This one is also a re-issue: I had a copy of it about 30 years ago. It's the book that taught me about my religion, the one that made me realize that I wasn't alone in my beliefs. It taught me how to be Wiccan, and how to be a good woman. I lent my original to someone years ago, but it never came back. Since lately I'd been thinking about getting back to myself, I figured a copy of this book that had influenced my thinking so long ago would be a good start.
And before you think that I'm nothing but a selfish twit, we bought Lachlan a novel as well. I'm not sure what it is, but he's reading it now and I don't want to disturb him. I'll tell you later.
So, yeah, it was a good day!
Now, at my brother's insistence (but I wasn't supposed to know that), my parents had called Saturday and flat ordered us down to their house for an impromptu barbecue--on their new George Foreman grill. Ordering us around is their way of showing affection. So, we duly shuffled down to their place (they only live two blocks away from us--but I'm fine with that. Really. *twitch twitch*). And.......
And they had put on a really nice spread! They had all the makings for truly great hamburgers--lettuce, tomatoes, condiments of all persuasions, very nifty keen. Somewhere, they purchased the biggest strawberries I have ever seen--oh, so juicy and sweet!! Not for the hamburgers, you twinkie--just for the eating! And my father had gone and purchased an actual, honest-to-goodness birthday cake for me. It was his favorite, chocolate on chocolate, but that's okay; that's my favorite, too! And did I think to take the camera so as to record this momentous occasion? Of course not! I didn't really expect such a to-do, so I wasn't prepared. Last year was my 50th birthday, I figured it was the milestone, not 51. I mean, who cares about a 51st birthday? That's like being the 1st runner up in the Miss America contest. All you really remember about a 1st runner up is bouffant hair and shiny white teeth.
I was honestly surprised--my parents were both in good moods, so the conversations went well. And of course, son Coelred and girlfriend Em were there, so he kept us in tears with laughter. Then, when I thought the day just couldn't get better, my brother hands me a $50 gift card for Barnes and Nobles!! Woot!!! Books!! My absolutely, no-doubt-about-it, favorite gift of all time is a gift card to a bookstore! And a $50 dollar one at that!! Hot damn! Let's go!
So, after we had spent about the minimally polite time there (after presentation of said gift card), my darling Lachlan and I sped off to B & N. Ahhhh, I love the smell in a bookstore. They smell of coffee and paper pulp--the smell of civilization! Bookstores are wonderful and I adore all of them--I don't care if it's part of a national chain or owned by a local bibliophile determined to enlighten at least one small corner of his hometown. Give me a hazelnut latte and stacks and stacks of books to peruse--and I could probably spend weeks there. I love to pick up books and thoroughly examine the cover, read the reviews posted in the flyleafs, check out the synopsis on the back that is trying so hard to convince me to buy this one. I think of those back covers as seductresses, striving to entice with just the right amount of information and yet convey enough mystery to pique the reader's curiosity. I wonder who writes those? I don't suppose it's the author of the book, I wonder how much a back cover writer gets paid? And what do they list as their occupation?
When we get in a bookstore, Lachlan and I usually check out the new arrivals: the latest and greatest, the ones the reviewers herald as this year's Great American Novel, the newest from James Patterson (well, think about it--when was the last time you went into a bookstore and James Patterson didn't have a new book out? See what I'm saying?) Then we split up to pursue our own interests. I'll usually check out my list of favorite authors and see if any of them have something new out, or if there's been a reissue of one I don't have in my collection yet. Then I thoroughly scour rows and rows of shelves to see what gems are there for my digging--oh, yes, check out the bargain books--anything there? Then it's off to the history section, or do I feel like reading some fiction? What's the science and math section bragging about? Hmmm, I don't normally read westerns, but this one is intriguing....
Somehow, we always manage to meet up at a table at roughly the same time. Then, with coffee cups in hand, we sip and snoop, sip and snoop. Sometimes we read bits to each other, "hey, listen to this..." or "this guy claims...." or "did you know that....." Finally, even the most comfortable of chairs can no longer holds us. Then comes the time I dread--choosing which books to buy! Oh, the agony of indecision! It kills me to put books back! "This book on knitting is good and has some great ideas, but it's not really as advanced as I'd like, but it's got such lovely patterns" or "I love this author, I've got to have her latest, but it's $30, I can't spend that much on one book, but she's soooo good" or "Oh, he's written a new one about my favorite character, but I can't get this book and not get this one....."
I'm not good at decisions. Deciding makes my stomach hurt. It's so hard to choose, and I always feel like I should apologize to the books I'm not buying. Silly, I know; but I know this as well--there's nothing easy about writing (James Patterson aside, I mean). Writing is hard, difficult work and every book in that store is someone's baby. Somebody wrote that book, put their heart into it, poured their knowledge and time into one convenient, small package here--and you're rejecting it! (Now, let's see how you feel next time you go to the bookstore!)
In the end, I finally chose two histories and a metaphysical: "Manhunt: the 12-Day Chase for Lincoln's Killer" by James L. Swanson, because I'm not really familiar with what went on after Lincoln's assassination; "The Wars of the Roses" by Alison Weir--this is actually a re-issue of one of her earlier historical works that I hadn't had a chance to pick up before; and "The Spiral Dance: A Rebirth of the Ancient Religion of the Great Goddess" by Starhawk. This one is also a re-issue: I had a copy of it about 30 years ago. It's the book that taught me about my religion, the one that made me realize that I wasn't alone in my beliefs. It taught me how to be Wiccan, and how to be a good woman. I lent my original to someone years ago, but it never came back. Since lately I'd been thinking about getting back to myself, I figured a copy of this book that had influenced my thinking so long ago would be a good start.
And before you think that I'm nothing but a selfish twit, we bought Lachlan a novel as well. I'm not sure what it is, but he's reading it now and I don't want to disturb him. I'll tell you later.
So, yeah, it was a good day!