Sarah's Books - Used & Rare

I've only had a few people notice that the bookshop was closed for, oh, ten days or so. At least, only a few people have mentioned it to me. By staying away so long I seem to have successfully alienated everyone else. So it's been a slowish few days, and now I'm about to take off again, for the long weekend. Tra-la-la, the free and easy life of the self-employed.

House update: the closing was quick and easy and as expected everyone made lots of money from it except us. The good news is we had some money left over, and even - get this - got a check back from the lawyers because they told us the wrong amount needed for closing. As soon as we had the house keys in hand we lumped the spare futon in the backseat of the car and started camping out in the house. And cleaning it. The previous owner has a Great Dane, and there was dog hair everywhere. In the closets. In the toilets. In the fridge. I told my uber-dog-loving friend Bee this, and she said, "What's the problem? Dog hair is a condiment!" Sure, if it's your dog. Anyway. Cleaned the house for two days. Absolutely LOVE the house. Then spent a few days packing everything back at the apartment. Packing the book room took up most of last Friday. At the end of it I was too discouraged to take pictures. Frankly, I don't want any evidence to remember it by. It really did come to a hundred and twenty cartons, give or take a tote bag or two of oversized items.

Moving day came, finally, and... no movers. They stood us up. Twice. Early morning and late afternoon. I despaired. I had visions of having to rent a U-Haul and move everything ourselves at the last minute, because it was too late to find anyone else. The agony! Luckily, the movers didn't stand us up a third time. They came a day late and really I could have kissed them. But they were all sweaty from moving my books, so I didn't. I tipped them instead. Now the books are in boxes in our hallway, outside the new bookroom. The bookshelves are in place but need a few shims here and there before I start unpacking (one of this weekend's wee projects). I'm looking at these boxes, these many many many boxes, and I'm thinking that I love my books, but my god, I am a total nut. So as I unpack them I am again going to prune and cut and sort. I am resolute on this issue. No more unpacked boxes of books lurking in closets and attics ever again. I mean it.

One of the best moments in the house thus far: with the house we inherited a small vegetable garden that is just beginning to bear and one evening last weekend I went out and cut some fresh basil and picked the first of the tiny ripe tomatoes, made a simple sauce, and put it over pasta for supper. After years of downtown apartment living, trying to grow edibles in flowerpots in not enough sunlight, I can eat food from the backyard again. I grew up on a small farm, so this means the world to me. Delicious.

A few notes from the universe of books:

Ian's ad in the Sept/Oct issue of Fine Books & Collections has that great photo of his son sitting up a tree lost in a book, and it sure looks good. Page eight. Way to go, Ian! Raising that boy right!

A member sent this great article about scurrilous online booksellers (so-called mega-listers) to our Maine booksellers' group. It sure makes me want to read for-sale listings much more carefully when I'm ordering books online.

Hervé has just launched a new site about the antiquarian book world: Antiquarian Book News. Check it out. I'll be watching it and reading to find out what's what in the world of rare books.

I'm reading, browsing in, whatever, Eric Partridge's Dictionary of Slang and Unconventional English (Macmillan 1961 reprint) - Ryan found it for a dollar at the last library sale we went to, two weekends ago now. 1362 pages. Lots of bookish stuff in there, such as ink-slinging (authorship, journalism - p.424), and non-bookish but darn good anway, like fleas, jumpy as a bag of (extremely nervous, 'windy' - p.285). What can I say, it's very funny and interesting, and this is what there is to read. And all my books are still packed up. Except for the thousands in the shop, I should say. Which, if I suspected I wanted to read any of them, would be at home too.