Books, Oprah, and dalmatians

It's cold and rainy again, and while I'd revel in the fact that it is rain instead of snow, we're under a winter storm warning through tomorrow morning that might mean ice, and that's worse. Nothing like being reminded by nature not to get too flippant. Calvin has asked to go for a walk, but now that we're back from the morning's swimming lessons the rain and hail are keeping us in. Instead we've set up a box castle, played Mammoth Hunt, tried out some chess, read a lot of books. It's a warm, warm feeling when he reads to me instead of the other way around. I've waited years for that feeling. A lifetime, to be exact, although not my own.

Make believe play is rampant in the house today. We have Oz in the sitting room and knights and dragons in the kitchen. Since I'm in the middle of cataloging our books there are piles everywhere you look, delicious piles of literary art with a few cheap flings on the side, and Calvin careening in, out, and around the landscape of my slow progress. As I reshelve, do I section them by genre? Or do I go by centuries instead? I'd rather go with a rainbow display, but most of our books are rather drab in color. Then, as the knight comes swinging through, riding on the Woozy from Oz, the tallest pile finally loses its grip and succumbs to gravity.

As an aside, it occurs to me that Oprah's Book Club has done for many books what the 101 Dalmatians movie did to the spotted dog. For years after the movie was re-released animal shelters everywhere were flooded with dalmatians being given up by parents who hadn't really wanted them in the first place but couldn't resist their begging children. I figure that the flood of classic books sporting the Oprah stamp given up to the book sale each month, most with completely unbroken spines, are suffering that same unwanted fate. I am reminded of this as I restack, along with the rest of the collapsed pile, my newly acquired sale room treats, copies of Anna Karenina, One Hundred Years of Solitude, and The Good Earth, all nearly brand new and decorated with the Oprah seal, all rescued from the sale room recycling bin because there were just too many of them to shelve, even for a sale. They wouldn't be my first choice as far as book collecting goes, but they needed new homes, and we all know what happens when I am faced with unwanted things that need new homes.

And when the tallest stack has been re-built as two smaller ones, my knight and I ride into the kitchen to share a snack, finish making dinner, and read another book. I am done with piles now for the day, though I am sure they will be waiting for us tomorrow which we are likely to spend inside again, reminded by a frigid rain that spring has only a tentative foothold as yet.

Rain and sleet and snow, oh my

And oh bummer. It wasn't even so bad when we went out, bright and early, this morning to go to our library's monthly book sale (the one that Calvin and help set up all month long). It was raining, sure, and we wore warm sweaters under our rain coats, and Calvin wore his rain boots of course, but having not checked the weather report I had no idea that by the time we got home from library, book store, and grocery the rain would be ice, and then snow. I think we'll have to shovel tomorrow.

It's Saturday, and we like to surround ourselves with things that give us joy, so we hit up our book sale early (see Calvin reading under one of the sale tables) and followed that up with a stop at our Borders store.

We like Borders. At one time it was a local business, I even went to school with the Borders children, but clearly it is not that store any longer, and maybe it would be better if it was. We like Borders still because they alone carry our favorite coffee (Seattle's Best), because they give me a 25% off educator's discount on any items I use with Calvin, and because they are always joyfully willing to help me find obscure things, even if they have to order them from obscure places (like a full copy of the Parlement of Foules). Maybe they would do those things for us at Barnes and Noble, too (although I highly doubt it on the discount front), and our favorite book shopping is still at used book stores (we always go for used first when we can), but for whatever reason, and maybe it's the nostalgia token, Borders is our book store.

That's why their recent troubles leave us feeling sad. It's also why, when we see such appalling abuse of book shelf space as that pictured below, we feel deeply distressed. Compare the shelf space in the social studies section taken by Justin Bieber to that given to "world history, K-5" and ask yourself how Justin Bieber can really be that important. I know I did. And just to clarify, there were more of those purple books on a display front overhead. This is social studies today? I never did find the book on Egypt that I wanted.

So I guess it's not hard to figure out why Borders is struggling.

Then we came home, just before the sleet and snow started, had lunch, played with Legos, painted things, watched a video on hippos and rhinos, played some guitar, played some piano, had dinner, painted some more things, read some books, and went to bed. Or at least the (not so) little one went to bed.

There are more things I could say here, but I think one long paragraph is enough for a post. My bit on our new guitar, hootenannies, and my dad's longish hair years will have to wait for another day.