Sarah's Books - Used & Rare

Feeling sanguine about turning forty this week. I've loved my thirties - I'm looking back on what I've accomplished and it's a lot - married my sweetheart, opened a bookshop, bought a house, wrote a few books, read more than a few books, worked eagerly at painting and other artistic pursuits, maintained a spiritual practice, been blessed with my family and friendships, kept the bookshop open, relaxed into my real life. Which is pretty damn fine, no two ways about it. The hard stuff - the difficult things - I find I can examine them and let them fall away. While the good things linger. Funny, if you expect the best, if you expect joy, that's what comes to you.

Good day thus far - the last day I'll be a thirtysomething. Before opening the shop this morning I went out and got a haircut and picked up a few last Christmas gifts for my family. I looked around at all that tempting stuff in the stores and thought Eh and came back to my own little place. First thing, sold two Wendell Berry books, an Edward Gorey, and a little cookbook about chicken soup. What more do you need, really.