older gal calls about selling books.
we engage in a much longer conversation than the subject warrants involving much repetition of my basic point. Eventually she signed off with this bon mot:
"Well, I'm for sure coming into town tomorrow, only it's not for sure."
...
BREAKING NEWS!
As I was typing this post a barrel-chested fellow with an impressive set of ear-plugs strode in the door wearing a black tee shirt that read YOUR BLOG SUCKS in giant, hot-pink sans serif type.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Ah, Parenting!
This morning's learned debate:
me: *takes plastic bag full of empty candy wrappers away from baby*
fuss: WAAAAAAAH!
wife: oh just let him play with it!
me: Plastic bags are dangerous.
wife: it's not one of those kinds of plastic bags!
me: it's a plastic bag! it's garbage! He's got plenty of toys, he doesn't need to play with garbage!
wife: Oh shut UP! you are SUCH an asshole!
fuss: *finds bird mask on floor, runs off toward the bedroom laughing*
scene.
me: *takes plastic bag full of empty candy wrappers away from baby*
fuss: WAAAAAAAH!
wife: oh just let him play with it!
me: Plastic bags are dangerous.
wife: it's not one of those kinds of plastic bags!
me: it's a plastic bag! it's garbage! He's got plenty of toys, he doesn't need to play with garbage!
wife: Oh shut UP! you are SUCH an asshole!
fuss: *finds bird mask on floor, runs off toward the bedroom laughing*
scene.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
sign o' the times
I realize I'm a terrible Luddite when it comes to the 'wireless revolution', not having a cell phone, not wanting a cell phone and being utterly bemused when be-celled dinner guests excuse themselves to the balcony to explain where they are and what they're doing to a friend they probably talk to 15 times a day (wait, what?).
Even so...
I'm grabbing a slice of pizza for lunch and I see what can only be described as a 'little boy', couldn't be more than 9 years old, TEXTING on a cell phone.
At first I thought he was playing a game on a PSP or something ("which would have been natural and fine", he said, spotlighting his prejudices,) but as I drew closer no, no handheld console, just a cell phone.
I'm not sure why, but texting seemed more alien to me than if he'd just been blabbing away. Even though I dislike talking on the phone and much prefer PMs or email. What's that quote? I contradict myself...so sue me?
Hmm, not sure I got it right...
Even so...
I'm grabbing a slice of pizza for lunch and I see what can only be described as a 'little boy', couldn't be more than 9 years old, TEXTING on a cell phone.
At first I thought he was playing a game on a PSP or something ("which would have been natural and fine", he said, spotlighting his prejudices,) but as I drew closer no, no handheld console, just a cell phone.
I'm not sure why, but texting seemed more alien to me than if he'd just been blabbing away. Even though I dislike talking on the phone and much prefer PMs or email. What's that quote? I contradict myself...so sue me?
Hmm, not sure I got it right...
Monday, October 26, 2009
thanks for nothing, Bobo!
Today as we were chatting about real estate he pointed out this comparable in Vermont. Quite an upgrade from my current funky layout mid-70's digs!
File under "highlighting the $$ value of temperate weather and coastal access".
How to tell I'm now a Man of Property: my first reaction to those pics was OMG it must cost a fortune to maintain!
File under "highlighting the $$ value of temperate weather and coastal access".
How to tell I'm now a Man of Property: my first reaction to those pics was OMG it must cost a fortune to maintain!
Sunday, October 25, 2009
True Customer Tales
Phone rings.
Nerdly sounding guy:
Um, er...yes. What...uh....books? It's when you exchange books for money? What do they call that?
me:
Buying them.
Guy:
That's it!
Nerdly sounding guy:
Um, er...yes. What...uh....books? It's when you exchange books for money? What do they call that?
me:
Buying them.
Guy:
That's it!
True Customer Tales
gal:
Uh, I'm sort of looking for something? Like, a box, with like five or six books in it? Like, a set? If it was about wine, that would be cool, but it could be about whatever?
me: ......
Uh, I'm sort of looking for something? Like, a box, with like five or six books in it? Like, a set? If it was about wine, that would be cool, but it could be about whatever?
me: ......
Saturday, October 24, 2009
the other shore
On my drive to therapy the other day Pema was nibbling around the edges of a description of enlightenment. One approach was to think of 'real' life as cinema, and she noted the tendency of people to cast themselves as the lead, however incidental their role in the drama actually is.
This is a helpful insight to carry around the house with you, folded in a pocket or tucked in your hat band. Consult it when the bathtub is full of toys that need excavating before a morning shower, or when confronted by a teetering pyramid of dishes that materialized in the sink while you were at work.
The toys are there because someone else gave the baby a bath and was too busy wrestling the little python into his pajamas to tidy up. The dishes are there because someone else was struggling to satisfy the bottomless demands of his appetite.
It's easy to be unjustifiably annoyed by things like this that happen while you're off stage. The star of the show shouldn't have to worry about these incidentals, should they?
Well, except a family is an ensemble cast.
This is a helpful insight to carry around the house with you, folded in a pocket or tucked in your hat band. Consult it when the bathtub is full of toys that need excavating before a morning shower, or when confronted by a teetering pyramid of dishes that materialized in the sink while you were at work.
The toys are there because someone else gave the baby a bath and was too busy wrestling the little python into his pajamas to tidy up. The dishes are there because someone else was struggling to satisfy the bottomless demands of his appetite.
It's easy to be unjustifiably annoyed by things like this that happen while you're off stage. The star of the show shouldn't have to worry about these incidentals, should they?
Well, except a family is an ensemble cast.
Monday, October 19, 2009
caveat emptor
When I caution folk on the dangers of laymen identifying 1st editions, This is the sort of thing I mean.
"This book is a 1st American Edition{as stated on the copyright page} in hardback. "
Which is technically true.
But it isn't a first printing, which pegs its value as a collectible at precisely zero.
They were diligent enough to provide an image of the copyright page, which tells the tale:
The absence of a '1' in the number line indicates a later printing (n this case, anyway- with used books there are always numerous exceptions to every rule).
An actual collectible 1st edition of this particular book would look like this.
And a quick bookseller tip for nascent Harry Potter collectors- if that 'valuable first edition' of the first or second book has a YEAR 1 or YEAR 2 stamp on the spine or DJ...it's not a 1st. They were added to later printings when the phenomenon started to really take off.
"This book is a 1st American Edition{as stated on the copyright page} in hardback. "
Which is technically true.
But it isn't a first printing, which pegs its value as a collectible at precisely zero.
They were diligent enough to provide an image of the copyright page, which tells the tale:
The absence of a '1' in the number line indicates a later printing (n this case, anyway- with used books there are always numerous exceptions to every rule).
An actual collectible 1st edition of this particular book would look like this.
And a quick bookseller tip for nascent Harry Potter collectors- if that 'valuable first edition' of the first or second book has a YEAR 1 or YEAR 2 stamp on the spine or DJ...it's not a 1st. They were added to later printings when the phenomenon started to really take off.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
books and books
Library sale this morning- roused Meggsie from her ancient slumber to wrangle the Fuss while we sifted books under the hot sun. 85 degrees at 9am in Los Osos is ridiculous. Roughly half the usual number of vultures were circling the carcass when we arrived- the weather must have suppressed turnout. They built a corral around the site with naval orange plastic webbing, which was new. A gal said they had problems last sale with people walking off without paying.
How much bad karma does that generate, stealing cheap-ass books from a library sale? I filled up six boxes and 4 grocery bags for under a hundred bucks (and that included a small stack from the 'collectibles' table)- we barely got them all in the car.
We scored lots of good stuff, which was more a reflection of the relative paucity of buyers than the quality of the sale. The small-ish turnout harbored a lesser number of dealers than usual, and dealers are each others only real competition. As jaundiced an eye as Joe & Jane Public cast my way as I sweep across tables gathering my armloads, they probably wouldn't want the stuff I pick up on my first couple of passes through a sale. Good internet books are mostly the sort of specific, obscure, oddball things that your average consumer wouldn't want in the first place, even for a quarter or a buck.
This sales favorite purchase was a box full of weird homebrewing books I found mis-filed in gardening. Volunteers make mistakes- neophyte scroungers are advised to scour every section, however unlikely they seem. I found a nice cache of Jungian stuff in literature, confounding Danielle Steel & Dan Brown. Alas there was no reprise of last sale, where I scored a nice 1st edition of New Moon (which must be nearly ripe, considering the density of the hype blanket it has thrown over the mediaverse).
How much bad karma does that generate, stealing cheap-ass books from a library sale? I filled up six boxes and 4 grocery bags for under a hundred bucks (and that included a small stack from the 'collectibles' table)- we barely got them all in the car.
We scored lots of good stuff, which was more a reflection of the relative paucity of buyers than the quality of the sale. The small-ish turnout harbored a lesser number of dealers than usual, and dealers are each others only real competition. As jaundiced an eye as Joe & Jane Public cast my way as I sweep across tables gathering my armloads, they probably wouldn't want the stuff I pick up on my first couple of passes through a sale. Good internet books are mostly the sort of specific, obscure, oddball things that your average consumer wouldn't want in the first place, even for a quarter or a buck.
This sales favorite purchase was a box full of weird homebrewing books I found mis-filed in gardening. Volunteers make mistakes- neophyte scroungers are advised to scour every section, however unlikely they seem. I found a nice cache of Jungian stuff in literature, confounding Danielle Steel & Dan Brown. Alas there was no reprise of last sale, where I scored a nice 1st edition of New Moon (which must be nearly ripe, considering the density of the hype blanket it has thrown over the mediaverse).
True Customer Tales
couple stops to check the posters in the window.
gal: Oh my gawd, RENT is playing tonight! How awesome is that?
guy: *grunts*
gal: What, it's RENT!
guy: That'd be great if I wanted to see RENT. *peers at poster in an exaggerated way* Wow, those are some good looking actors! Let's go see RENT! *dripping sarcasm*
gal: *walks off*
guy: What? What? I wanna see RENT! *leans in door* Ooooeee, I'm in trouble now!
gal: Oh my gawd, RENT is playing tonight! How awesome is that?
guy: *grunts*
gal: What, it's RENT!
guy: That'd be great if I wanted to see RENT. *peers at poster in an exaggerated way* Wow, those are some good looking actors! Let's go see RENT! *dripping sarcasm*
gal: *walks off*
guy: What? What? I wanna see RENT! *leans in door* Ooooeee, I'm in trouble now!
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
True Customer Tales
Weathered looking gal with tattooed fingers lost in a giant parka comes in out of the rain.
"Do you guys mail stuff to people in prison?"
"Yes, as long as it was purchased here."
"Oh okay...I've got like ten bucks, is that enough?"
"For a pocket book, sure."
"She like true crime, murder type books- do you have a section for those?"
"Right this way."
"Do you have a book about Aileen Wuornos, that chick who killed all those dudes?"
"Not sure, but if we did this is the spot."
"Okay thanks."
She found a book (not about Aileen Wuornos) and as I was ringing her up she answered her cell phone.
"Hi, hello.....I'm sending a book to my girlfriend in prison."
"Do you guys mail stuff to people in prison?"
"Yes, as long as it was purchased here."
"Oh okay...I've got like ten bucks, is that enough?"
"For a pocket book, sure."
"She like true crime, murder type books- do you have a section for those?"
"Right this way."
"Do you have a book about Aileen Wuornos, that chick who killed all those dudes?"
"Not sure, but if we did this is the spot."
"Okay thanks."
She found a book (not about Aileen Wuornos) and as I was ringing her up she answered her cell phone.
"Hi, hello.....I'm sending a book to my girlfriend in prison."
clear channel has killed commercial radio
The CD player at the store is busted, so I've been listening to the radio.
The public station dedicates Tuesday to the Board of Supervisors meeting, which means an all-day gab-fest about nothing interesting.
So I dial around.
The college station is playing some sort of unlistanable noise. I mean that literally- it isn't some newfangled genre like 'punk' grating on the ears of an old man, it sounds like a Casio keyboard & a chainsaw had a baby via C-section, and the baby turned out to be a hungry alien and it started eating the delivering physician from the knees up.
Next up is a country station- BZZZT.
Mariachi music- BZZZT.
A cheesy DJ promising me something new from Nickelback- BZZZZT.
And back to the Board of Supervisors, which on the whole seems to be the lesser of several evils.
The public station dedicates Tuesday to the Board of Supervisors meeting, which means an all-day gab-fest about nothing interesting.
So I dial around.
The college station is playing some sort of unlistanable noise. I mean that literally- it isn't some newfangled genre like 'punk' grating on the ears of an old man, it sounds like a Casio keyboard & a chainsaw had a baby via C-section, and the baby turned out to be a hungry alien and it started eating the delivering physician from the knees up.
Next up is a country station- BZZZT.
Mariachi music- BZZZT.
A cheesy DJ promising me something new from Nickelback- BZZZZT.
And back to the Board of Supervisors, which on the whole seems to be the lesser of several evils.
storm warning
Last night I suffered a post-work flashback to my nearly forgotten youth as a Boy Scout, tying down the loose corner of carport awning then lugging columns of empty book boxes and several half-primered bookshelves into the garage for shelter.
Be Prepared!
Mother Nature laughed, wiping away my look of smug satisfaction with high winds that disjointed the ridge poll sometime in the pre-dawn hours. Off to work, the open door revealed a vista of ominously sagging awning, pregnant with rainwater and growing more rotund by the second.
I sprang into action, effecting repairs with the help of a convenient pair of milk crates (for loft) & a roll of Gorilla Tape (for structural support). Alas, I was soaked head to toe in the course of performing the necessary liquid abortion. Retiring for a costume change, I found the wife channeling Tom Courtenay circa The Dresser, having laid a dry outfit out. I essayed the role of a (hopefully more appreciative) Albert Finney, drenched and fuming from my detoured departure.
On my second departure I had to fight the urge to shout STOP....THAT.....RAIN!
Be Prepared!
Mother Nature laughed, wiping away my look of smug satisfaction with high winds that disjointed the ridge poll sometime in the pre-dawn hours. Off to work, the open door revealed a vista of ominously sagging awning, pregnant with rainwater and growing more rotund by the second.
I sprang into action, effecting repairs with the help of a convenient pair of milk crates (for loft) & a roll of Gorilla Tape (for structural support). Alas, I was soaked head to toe in the course of performing the necessary liquid abortion. Retiring for a costume change, I found the wife channeling Tom Courtenay circa The Dresser, having laid a dry outfit out. I essayed the role of a (hopefully more appreciative) Albert Finney, drenched and fuming from my detoured departure.
On my second departure I had to fight the urge to shout STOP....THAT.....RAIN!
Monday, October 12, 2009
solution oriented thinking
Reading books has been one of the more grievous casualties inflicted by the invading Fuss hoards. If he's awake, anything in my hands commands his full and demanding attention. When he's asleep domestic projects take precedence- as pleasant a prospect as reclining on the deck with novel in hand paints, there are endless ranges of dishes to wash, shelves to paint & paper, meals to prepare, weeds to hoe...on and on, fading by infinitesimal degrees into the misty distance like a Chinese landscape.
And then sleep.
As I must rise when he does, the span of the narrow gap separating his and my bed time is dictated by an unforgiving calculus. But, I can control the widths of the spines my aspiring literary paramours. The imposition of Project: Runway standards on my reading list can't but help my completion percentage.
The first test is Holy the Firm by Annie Dillard, 76 pages dripping wet.
Progress reports will follow.
And then sleep.
As I must rise when he does, the span of the narrow gap separating his and my bed time is dictated by an unforgiving calculus. But, I can control the widths of the spines my aspiring literary paramours. The imposition of Project: Runway standards on my reading list can't but help my completion percentage.
The first test is Holy the Firm by Annie Dillard, 76 pages dripping wet.
Progress reports will follow.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
true customer tales
A demi-homeless fellow in a filthy navy watch cap rolled up to the door on a splintered skateboard, a white plastic trash bag half-full of paperbacks slung over his shoulder.
He hauled them onto the counter & began worrying at the knot like a racoon.
It was fairly bustling and I was busy on the phone, checking titles and ringing people up for a good 5 minutes.
I checked back in and he was still picking and tugging, having succeeded only in making it more secure.
I started pricing stuff out and worked through a sizeable stack before he surrendered to the knot and tore through the side of the bag with his fingernails.
Unfortunately the books were about what you'd expect given their provenance- I was hoping for a buried treasure that would provide a happy capstone to the tale.
He hauled them onto the counter & began worrying at the knot like a racoon.
It was fairly bustling and I was busy on the phone, checking titles and ringing people up for a good 5 minutes.
I checked back in and he was still picking and tugging, having succeeded only in making it more secure.
I started pricing stuff out and worked through a sizeable stack before he surrendered to the knot and tore through the side of the bag with his fingernails.
Unfortunately the books were about what you'd expect given their provenance- I was hoping for a buried treasure that would provide a happy capstone to the tale.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
true customer tales
Winger edition!
A gal buying a discount calendar whines about the parking meters and I reply with my de riguer comment that the Man needs money whether they're allowed to raise taxes or not.
lady: What do you mean?
me: It isn't politically feasible to raise taxes, so they get the money in other ways.
lady, affronted: We pay PROPERTY taxes and SALES taxes!
me: And the state is still essentially bankrupt, so....
lady, snarling: Well then maybe they shouldn't build big new government buildings they don't need!
I smiled insincerely and passed across her change, deciding not to engage on the necessity of upgrading our circa 1930's City Hall that hasn't been big enough for 25 years.
I'd like to see an episode of the Twilight Zone where anti-government zealots get their wish and aliens make the whole apparatus vanish overnight.
A gal buying a discount calendar whines about the parking meters and I reply with my de riguer comment that the Man needs money whether they're allowed to raise taxes or not.
lady: What do you mean?
me: It isn't politically feasible to raise taxes, so they get the money in other ways.
lady, affronted: We pay PROPERTY taxes and SALES taxes!
me: And the state is still essentially bankrupt, so....
lady, snarling: Well then maybe they shouldn't build big new government buildings they don't need!
I smiled insincerely and passed across her change, deciding not to engage on the necessity of upgrading our circa 1930's City Hall that hasn't been big enough for 25 years.
I'd like to see an episode of the Twilight Zone where anti-government zealots get their wish and aliens make the whole apparatus vanish overnight.
Happy Birthday to the Wife!
I was going to get her a hot pink Jeep stroller, but somebody must have squealed.
Neither one of us is real big on these things- my default is sushi with a few friends for my yearly dose of mercury. The wife is more social, but less inclined to celebrate the weight of another calendar year settling around her shoulders like a wet towel.
I think we're ordering Thai for dinner- that'll be fun.
A second, less conflicted milestone also falls this week- our 10th wedding anniversary.
Yes, dear readers, a decade of wedded bliss has crept by on tiny padded feet.
Twice as many years as I've been penning this fine blog. About how old the Fuss would be if years of therapy hadn't been required to pave his way. A little less than one quarter of my entire life, and a little more than half of the parts I actually remember.
Fuss's heroic auntie Burl has volunteered for an overnight wrangle, so we're off to a nearby resort for our first child-free night since his arrival.
And that, my friends, is cause for celebration!
Neither one of us is real big on these things- my default is sushi with a few friends for my yearly dose of mercury. The wife is more social, but less inclined to celebrate the weight of another calendar year settling around her shoulders like a wet towel.
I think we're ordering Thai for dinner- that'll be fun.
A second, less conflicted milestone also falls this week- our 10th wedding anniversary.
Yes, dear readers, a decade of wedded bliss has crept by on tiny padded feet.
Twice as many years as I've been penning this fine blog. About how old the Fuss would be if years of therapy hadn't been required to pave his way. A little less than one quarter of my entire life, and a little more than half of the parts I actually remember.
Fuss's heroic auntie Burl has volunteered for an overnight wrangle, so we're off to a nearby resort for our first child-free night since his arrival.
And that, my friends, is cause for celebration!
Monday, October 5, 2009
ugh.
The wife just rolled in with a new stroller for the Fuss, which we definitely needed.
I'm a little iffy that we needed one with a hot pink paint job and giant black JEEP branding on every available surface, even if it was on sale.
Gosh, I wonder why it was discounted?
If I were a young hipster, I could probably pass it off as IRONY.
"Pink! JEEP! Boy child! GET IT?!?!"
I'm a little iffy that we needed one with a hot pink paint job and giant black JEEP branding on every available surface, even if it was on sale.
Gosh, I wonder why it was discounted?
If I were a young hipster, I could probably pass it off as IRONY.
"Pink! JEEP! Boy child! GET IT?!?!"
true customer tales
Got the first shipment of calendars in.
Now there's a disheviled old woman digging through the boxes and muttering angrily under her breath, providing an unintelligible, belligerent running commentary directed at their covers- BIG Fish, Yoga Journal, Fantasy Heroes.
I'm curious which, if any, she'll pick up.
/edit
Vintage Mustangs was the only offering to meet her rigorous standards.
Now there's a disheviled old woman digging through the boxes and muttering angrily under her breath, providing an unintelligible, belligerent running commentary directed at their covers- BIG Fish, Yoga Journal, Fantasy Heroes.
I'm curious which, if any, she'll pick up.
/edit
Vintage Mustangs was the only offering to meet her rigorous standards.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Update for the love of updating! Update for love of Kali!
The last couple of weeks I've been at a low ebb, energy-wise.
I'm uncertain exactly which internal process compels me to stuff this blog with the magpie detritus of my internet roamings and gild the unshapely result with work anecdotes and personal musings, but judging by this recent drought it requires some small surplus of energy for fuel.
We passed around the illness baton for a week or so, and now Fuss is going through some rough developmental transition that has cut out one of his two daily naps and turned him surly around bed time, which has crept down from 7pm to 5:30-6pm. Plus he's started waking up stupidly early again after lulling me into complacency with several weeks of steady 7:30-8am rising.
As the rest of life's ever-marching parade of seamless minutia waits for no one, some apparently non-essential programs were cut to close the energy gap. Like reading and blogging. But as with the Governator closing all the state parks, such a seemingly practical response creates a gaping spiritual void.
So, here I am, updating sans anything compelling to update about. A Seinfeldian update, an update about itself.
I'm uncertain exactly which internal process compels me to stuff this blog with the magpie detritus of my internet roamings and gild the unshapely result with work anecdotes and personal musings, but judging by this recent drought it requires some small surplus of energy for fuel.
We passed around the illness baton for a week or so, and now Fuss is going through some rough developmental transition that has cut out one of his two daily naps and turned him surly around bed time, which has crept down from 7pm to 5:30-6pm. Plus he's started waking up stupidly early again after lulling me into complacency with several weeks of steady 7:30-8am rising.
As the rest of life's ever-marching parade of seamless minutia waits for no one, some apparently non-essential programs were cut to close the energy gap. Like reading and blogging. But as with the Governator closing all the state parks, such a seemingly practical response creates a gaping spiritual void.
So, here I am, updating sans anything compelling to update about. A Seinfeldian update, an update about itself.
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