- You know those garage sales I went to last Friday?
The one billed "Selling a library of beloved books" was a gold mine. Or an ink and paper mine, I suppose. It was an older couple relocating across the state, and the sale was in their actual, built-in-bookshelves, at-home library. Hardcovers for $1. Paperbacks $0.50. I have no idea how I made out with only these nine books, especially when, as I went to pay the absolutely delightful lady holding the sale, I only had to pay fifty cents apiece, even for the hardcovers, because I "obviously have such great taste in books." I've read half of these, so my goal is to read the remainder throughout this year, as they're mostly classics I should be familiar with, anyway. Although, if we're being honest, I'll probably never read that bottom one all the way through (Leviathan by Hobbes), as philosophy isn't one of my genres of choice. I really just bought it because 1) it has a pretty cover, and 2) I like the word "leviathan." What? Bibliophiles can be shallow. Obviously.
- It looks like I've been a little too extreme in my instructions to my children to never, ever, ever, cut any of Mommy's flowers, ever. After last week's yellow irises that I brought indoors had faded, I brought in some pink and white peonies. Atticus followed me around as I merrily clipped my way through the backyard, anxiously running his hands through his hair and asking, "But aren't you going to get yourself in trouble?" I tried to explain that it's my rule and I am thus free to break it at will (although, really, he's seen the hypocrisy that exists behind my "Only one cookie and then you're done" rule as I mow through half a dozen cookies in one sitting, so I don't know why he's having so much trouble with this flower thing) and that he can collect flowers to bring inside, too, as long as he has my permission.
|He looked unsettled every time he passed these the first full day they were there.|
An unexpected advantage to bringing my flowers inside is that I'm finally able to smell them. I've always heard people comment on the fragrance of peonies, but evidently when they're outdoors the scent is too widely dispersed for my sad sniffer to detect anything. Bring a bunch of them into our front entryway, however, and man! They've been perfuming our house rather beautifully for days, and I am proud to say I do enjoy the way flowers smell- I've never really been sure, as I can't stand floral-scented candles and such; they give me an instant headache. The real thing, however, I can handle. Joy!
- I got two calls last week asking me to participate in a local blood drive, and although I tried to explain that I've tried and tried and tried and my iron count's always too low, they insisted I try yet again, and I caved. A helpful friend watched the kids, I assured her it would probably only be for about 15 minutes, but lo and behold, my iron levels were two-hundredth's of a percent higher than the lowest admissible amount. They drained a bag of liquid life-force out of my body (I'm going to start a petition to have the Red Cross change the ever-boring term "Blood Drive" to "Liquid Life-Force Drainage Event"- I'm sure loads more people would sign up. Or not.), I was immensely pleased not to have failed yet again, but I did wonder at the notable absence of signs saying things like, "It's a bloody good time" or pretty much any pun involving vampires. A wasted opportunity, I say.