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Dear Job Seekers, A Word of Advice...

I have a small family owned business.  I'm not looking to hire because I have a daughter who works for gas money and a son who works for video games.  If I'm in a bind I have a neighbor who works for books and very good friends who works for lunch and the occasional gossip fest.  I also have my Sunday girl who just likes to work with books as an escape from real life which involves a full-time job, school and motherhood.  I'm pretty set.  For the moment anyway.  If I was hiring however, these are a few of the things that would hurt your chances.

1.  I know I own a small used bookstore.  And I know that bookstore owners have a bit of a reputation for being a little on the relaxed side.  I would still encourage you to be fully dressed and bathed when stopping in to ask if we are hiring.  If I can smell you, and if I can see parts of you that one normally doesn't see in a professional setting, than I am not going to hire you.  Now or in the future.  The smelling you part also pertains to alcohol and marijuana.  What you do in your private time is what you do in your private time.  But if you don't even respect potential employers enough to dress, bathe and be clean and sober when dropping off your resume and asking for an application, than you will never respect them or their customers after you get the job. 

2.  Know your environment.  If I have to lock up the store cat in order for you to approach the counter to hand me your resume because you are afraid of cats, than chances are you will not work out as an employee of this establishment.  Many small businesses have unique quirks that make them stand out a bit from everyone else.  If that quirk is not something you are comfortable with than don't hand in your resume there. 

3.  That meltdown you just had in front of my counter because you've been looking for a job for months and no one will hire you??  Clue-I'm not going to hire you either.  Your little fit did not change my mind, make me feel guilty or make you look like a sympathetic individual in need of employment.  As a matter of fact, that little display made me happy to see the back of you and also made me totally understand why you are not employed already. 

4.  When I ask you what you like to read and you inform me that you hate reading chances are you would be a bad fit in this store.  Think about it.  If you're smart you'll figure it out.  Of course if you hate reading than you'll never see this anyway so it's a moot point. 

5.  And this ties in to point 1.  Look and act like you want to be gainfully employed.  Find out a little bit about the business before walking in and asking about a postition.  Stopping in after you tan (still holding your bottle of lotion in your hand) and asking if we are hiring (after asking if we are a book store [no-we're a tire shop]) tells me that I'm an afterthought.  And if trying to find a job is an afterthought than keeping one is going to be an afterthought too.

6.  Take "no" gracefully.  I know you are tired of looking.  I know you're frustrated.  But guess what??  I'm not hiring today. I probably won't be hiring tomorrow.  But...I may be hiring sometime down the road.  You glaring at me as you're walking out the door and than flipping off my store on the way to your car is going to guarantee that IF I am hiring in the future the person I'm hiring will not be you. 

These types of scenarios used to happen occasionally.  Once in a while I would get a job seeker in that would make me scratch my head and wince a little.  Now this appears to be normal behavior.  I can't speak for other business owners, but I will gladly work all the hours in my store by myself before I will hire someone who doesn't try to bring 110% to the interview process.  Walking into a business to ask for an application or submit a resume is part of the interview process.  It is when you set your first impression.  When you step into a small business such as mine there is more than a fleeting chance that the owner is the person you will be handing your resume to or asking for an application from.  Even if your first source of contact is not the owner, please be aware the owner is most likely on the premises.  And if the owner is not on the premises than the person who you had first contact with is going to give the owner a full report of your appearance and general attitude.  After all, this person has to work with you if you get hired.  And any good owner who values their employees is not going to hire someone an established employee had a problem with before the initial interview. 

Hope this helps. 

Sincerely,

Someone who may one day may be hiring.

Hear Ye, Hear Ye (Modern translation: Yo dude, listen up)

As some of you know I've been out of the store quite a bit lately.  The direct result of a benign tumor that decided to get ugly.  It didn't get malignant, but it grew teeth and nails and a bad attitude and so it had to go.  With it went my sense of peace, security, well-being and the belief that all I had been given was sacred and  untouchable.  I've been operating in business these last nine years as if every challenge was a mere speed bump and there was nothing that could not be overcome.  After all my business is a gift from the universe and therefore impervious to all disasters.  Whoops.  I got my piece of humble pie shoved down my throat.  Not a big enough piece to choke me, but big enough to make me cough a bit and see that I'm not living in a bubble that can't be pierced by all the sharp pointy objects out there that are currently popping everyone else's balloons.  I got poked.  And it wasn't pretty.

My first reaction to this sudden insight was very mature.  I huddled on my couch under my electric blanket clutching my heating pad and taking drugs.  (I'd just had surgery, they were prescribed-chill)  Next I graduated to whimpering, complaining and general thumbsucking.  As you can see I'm a very proactive and forward thinking individual.  The thumbsucking stage was followed quickly by grief stages.  Denial (uh-no, this is not going to effect my business), anger (how dare anything effect my business), bargaining (I promise I'll be good if this doesn't effect my business), depression (I'm so sad that this is going to effect my business) and finally acceptance (yup-this is going to effect my business).  Again, let me reiterate that there was nothing that was earth shattering or immediately detrimental, just a wake-up call to all the little creeping niggley things that can slowly erode what looks like a solid foundation.  So I woke up.  I reassessed.  And I discovered that for all my time with my head in the sand I was actually still in very good shape.  The goal was to stay that way.  So I reached out to that big ole universe to see what else it had in store for me.  And that brings me to my big announcement today.  The first of a few that will take place in the next couple of months.

Ready??  Here goes.  Take a deep breath.  R & B Used Books has a satellite location now.  Thanks to our good friends at Breads & Threads in Canterbury Village we have the opportunity to place our overstock in another location.  I've spent a couple of Sunday's down there and man is the place cool.  Not only will we be selling out of Breads & Threads in Canterbury Village, but we will be able to keep everyone updated on all the awesome things going on down there.  http://canterburyvillage.com/  I'm looking forward to St. Patrick's Day. And if I don't feel like hanging out Sunday??  I can go down Saturday March 16th for St. Practice Day.  Breads has some really interesting and clever craft merchandise and the owner makes the best homemade bread.  Check her out on Facebook here:  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Breads-Threads/132585090235176  Linette (the owner of Breads) has special events planned coming up.  To keep informed "like" her Facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/pages/Breads-Threads/132585090235176)  There is also going to be a Farmer's Market.  You can get information for that on the Breads & Threads Facebook page also.  It's all very exciting to be a part of and I'm thrilled they reached out to me for this incredible opportunity.  Just another example of the blessed assistance I get when God reaches down and taps me. 

R & B Used Books is not going down folks.  Other stores are folding.  We aren't.  We are finding ways to expand our services and absorb the additional costs of doing business that our fine government and other businesses and utilities are presenting us with.  We haven't raised our prices in our 9 years in business and a  price increase is not in our future.  You will see some changes.  We might make a stumble and have to adjust a bit here or there, but after I whine, cry and moan I have a tendency to get determined.  And I'm determined to stay in business.  I'm determined to continue to offer amazing service to the most amazing customers in the world.  I'm determined to keep practicing the fine art of selling education, recreation and information in book form.  The next phase is set to happen within the very walls of our humble store here in Grand Blanc.  Look for a streamlining of inventory now that we have a venue for our overstock.  Look for cleaner aisles and a less cluttery feel.  Look for more smiles as we've all taken a deep breath and feel much more secure than we did when I was unceremoniously thrust under the knife (literally, thankyouverymuch).

I know I don't say thank you to my customer base often enough.  YOU are this store.  YOU make up this business.  Without YOU there is no business here.  So a heartfelt thank you to all of you who frequent my store, groan at my (infrequent) blogs and bad jokes and still trust me enough to send in your friends and family.  A thank you was even meowed by the grumpy store cat.  Looking forward to continuing to torture do business with you all in the future.

Sincerely,

Beth (thebookladi)

Do you like little girls??

My dad has been on my mind a lot lately, comingled with thoughts of a much simpler and innocent time.  My dad worked for a school district in Oakland County. He worked there for many, many years and ultimately retired from there.  One of his interview questions was "do you like little girls?".  His answer??  "I hope so, I've got two of them."  And he got the job.  That popped in my mind late last night.

My dad did love his girls.  He had a tendency to treat us more like guys, but he loved us.  I shot guns, my sister played with bows and arrows.  We both qualified at Jr. Olympic level before we got stupid and hormonal and quit to go on dates and play with boys.  He cried when I got my ears pierced.  He threatened the life of my first boyfriend (under his breath and repeatedly) and he about went ballistic whenever I got myself into stupid or compromising situations.  (Yes, I was an 80's teen)  My sister didn't get into half the trouble I did but somehow managed to get into plenty of trouble just the same.  I think he spent our teen years mumbling and cursing under his breath and trying to pretend that we just didn't happen.  But he loved us.  There was no doubt.

My dad loved his daughters.  But he adored his granddaughter.  We might of made his world go round (until we knocked it clear of its axis) but she was the sunshine that lit up his life like no other.  He dressed her in little tights and cowboy boots. He took her with him whenever he could and quite frankly was a bit of a show off with her.  Whereas with my sister and me he was a little awkward and uncomfortable with our girlishness, with her he was totally at ease with Barbies and purses and tea sets.  If we went shopping at a store with a toy aisle he would most likely drag her in the direction of the pink stuff immediately.  To keep her out of my hair while I shopped, of course.  He was wrapped so tight around her little finger that he resembled a pretzel whenever she was near and my biggest complaint was that he had a tendency to spoil her at a time that she needed a father figure.  I resented that then. I realize now it wasn't his job.  His job was grandfather.  And he was good at his job.

My dad passed away before his granddaughter hit her teenage years.  Laid low by that bastard cancer.  He didn't have to deal with purple hair, emotional meltdowns, the goth period or her brief stint with rebellion in 11th grade.  And God how I wish he'd have been around when she was learning how to drive.  I still have PTSD from time on her learner's permit.  Sometimes I wonder if their relationship would have changed. Would he have ended up as awkward with her as he was with us?  How would he have reacted to her in her Homecoming dress and Prom and Sweet Sixteen and her first kiss?  Would he have tried to pretend she just didn't happen?  I don't think so.  I think if he had lived he would have figured it out the second time around.  I think he would have grown up with her and figured out the teenage years.  He would have been a shoulder to cry on.  A comforting hand on her back and a voice of reason in this crazy world.  I think he would have been very proud of the adult she has become.  Dean's list, Honor Society, and a solid plan for her future.  Yeah, I think my dad would have been ok with her.  After all my daddy liked little girls.  Back when it was ok to do so.

Yup-It's One of Those Days.

You know the kind.  The day where you have absolutely no reason to be angry, sad or depressed, but you hate the world?  No? You don't know the kind?  I'm the only one?  Figures.  Oh well.  The sun is shining.  It's not too cold.  The birds are singing.  Every person in today has been very pleasant.  I'm getting stuff accomplished (ok-that's a lie.  But I would like to get stuff accomplished).  The holidays are coming and everyone is spouting rainbows, helium balloons and unicorns.  And I. Hate. Everything.  And I hate myself for hating everything, but I can't help it.  Just to reiterate:  I hate the world.  I have no reason to hate the world.  I know I have no reason to hate the world.  Thanks for listening.

I Lost A Customer Today...

...Not a very good customer by standards of the bottom line.  She didn't come in all that often.  Only a handful of times a year.  She didn't spend all that much.  Certainly not enough to make any kind of impact on my business with her absence. 
...But I lost a customer today.  The kind of customer that leaves a hole not because of money spent or items bought but because of the presence she had.  The last time I saw her she wasn't buying anything at all.  She was picking up a certificate to help support an event her daughter was involved in.  We spoke briefly about the baby she was carrying.  We wished each other a good day.  She was here maybe a minute.  Maybe a minute and  a half.  After she left it felt like a friend had stopped in.  Always when she stopped in it felt like a moment with a friend.  She brightened my day. 
...I saw on the news this morning that I lost a customer today.  Actually I lost her yesterday but learned of it this morning over a cup of coffee while sitting on my couch.  Half listening to the news I caught the story and thought "how sad" as I often do when I hear of a tragedy of such proportions.  Than I hit reverse on the DVR.  Who's name??  What??  I just saw her two days ago.  Pregnant and vibrant and planning for her future.  So young.  All the cliches.  So sad.  Feel for the daughter.  The poor husband.  There is nothing that can make this right or easy or acceptable.
...I lost a customer today.  I read through the article in the paper and through the comment section and learned a lot about this customer.  Things I already knew and things I didn't.  Putting clues together and seeing for the first time the whole person who used to walk through my doors.  Wife, mother, employee, volunteer, friend, neighbor.
...I lost a customer today.  I've lost customers before.  I see their name in the obituary section or someone comes in and tells me so-and-so passed away.  It's sad.  I shake my head.  I say I'm sorry.  Sometimes I give hugs or cry with them. 
...I lost a customer today.  Just a customer.  One of hundreds.  But for some odd reason...it feels almost like I lost a friend.

Just Not Into Today

As a matter of fact, I am so not into today that I am even playing around on my blog.  Since I haven't been here since April, and it's now October that should be a fair indicator of where my mind is currently at.  Not even sure what I want to blog about.  Nothing intelligent anyway.  I'm just kind of in a blah mood.

Yesterday was a pretty good day.  I went to Frankenmuth with the fam and we had a Zehnder's family style chicken dinner.  I've got a whole box of butter noodles in the fridge at home just waiting for me to fry them up.  (don't judge-yes I used the term fry in conjunction with butter noodles.  It's my heart)  We spent some time walking around Birch Run.  Spent some money I didn't have to spend on stuff I didn't need.  I did it for the economy.  It's the American way.  Soooo.

Today is the opposite of yesterday.  I couldn't care less if I tried.  I was ready for today to be over at 10 this morning,  And I'm happy to report at 10 tonight I plan on it being lights out.  4 more hours of blech to get through.  Let's hope tomorrow is a more promising day.

Sentimental Journey

I woke up this morning with a song stuck in my head.  I don't know why.  I don't normally wake up to my own personal soundtrack but there it was stuck in my head this morning.  Sailing by Christopher Cross.  And it wasn't going away.  I tried humming.  I tried singing another song.  I tried listening to something else.  Nothing worked.  So when I got to work I YouTubed it and sat down to give it a good listen.  And than I listened to it again just because I could.  And thus started what became my sentimental journey.

My mother was a musician.  I grew up listening to her play the guitar, the piano, the banjo and ultimately the organ.  It was with the organ that she finally felt comfortable in her musical skin. She had found an instrument that she loved and could do all the things that each individual instrument could not.  It was on the organ that she could play every instrument that she wanted to and put everything together into her own private symphony.  I grew up with a big Hammond Concord Organ in the front room and a front row seat to my own personal concert.  Every.  Single.  Day.  My mother became so proficient at the organ that she taught lessons at Grinnell's in Pontiac Mall and was the church organist for our church.  And man my mom could rock that organ.  She played all the cool songs of the 70's.  She played the Bee Gee's, Barry Manilow, John Denver, Crosby Stills & Nash.  With her slider she could even do the muskrat in Muskrat Love.  My sister and I used to dance to Copacabana and The Girl From Ipanema.  Actually we were considered really not cool for being able to dance to Copacabana and The Girl From Ipanema so that is kind of a mixed memory.  One of our favorites she played was The Streak by Ray Stevens.  And with that slider she nailed that streak every time.  My dad used to lean on the door jamb and listen to her play.  And as soon as she noticed him there she would roll out some Kenny Rogers, Loretta Lynn and throw down on some Stand by Your Man by Tammy Wynette.  My daddy was a country boy and she would play just to him.  Although he would whistle the opening to Can't Smile Without You and she would roll that out too. My mom could play anything either by note or by ear.  If she didn't have the music she would spend hours walking through it.  Sometimes if she forgot where she was at she would call one of us kids over to sing a part for her.  And we would sing.  Over and over and over.  The same line.  Until she got it right.  And than we would move on to the next line.  Sometimes she would have a tape of the song and would about wear out the player rewinding and playing, rewinding and playing until she nailed that part.  When she got stuck on a song we would hear the same tune over and over again for days on end.  She was tireless about about getting that song down.  But when she finally, finally got it perfect it was added to the repertoire and we got to hear it in all its glory as part of her daily practice.  And sometimes if my mom was in a really good mood she would take requests and play just for us.  And my favorite song for her to play??  Sailing by Christopher Cross.  It was one of the songs she had learned to play by ear.  And she had worked for days to learn that song because it was one of my favorites on the radio.  So when she was in a really good mood and asked what she should play I always pleaded with her to play Sailing.  And I would always have her play it twice.  Just because she would.

I'm the Mom Who Cried Wolf.

I've got a really good excuse though.  You see??  I'm at work??  Yeah-and my daughter calls but I don't answer because I have people in the store and I can call her back.  So my daughter sends me a text.  But I don't look at it because I have people in the store and I can text her back.  So the people leave.  And I read the text which indicates she can't find her brother.  The brother I left in front of the tv when I left for work.  And so I call her back.  And she doesn't answer.  And so I text her back.  And get no text in response.  I call the house phone.  No answer.  I call the neighbor to check on them.  And she says she will as soon as she drives the 30 miles back to her house from her current location.  So I call and text and call and text and call and text a few million more times.  All with no response. 

Those of you who know me on a personal level (like you help me keep the bones polished on the skeletons in the closet) know I don't go to the emergency room for a hangnail.  So you know the bowel loosening panic I was in when I finally broke down and called...thepolicetogocheckonmykidsbecauseIwasscaredoutofmymind.  In my head I knew everything was probably fine.  In my gut I knew I was probably overreacting a wee bit to the fact that both my children seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth.  {Now would be a good time to remind everyone that one of said children is a female teenager who is capable of texting in her sleep and whose phone may have actually fused to her hand and her children will most probably be born with communication devices already imbedded in them} But...in some elemental soul ripping portion of my being I was already feeling the mind numbing panic and grief of a parent of missing children.  I was putting up flyers and doing press conferences pleading for their return. So I called the Grand Blanc Township Police Department and asked for them to send an officer by to check on my children.  I apologized.  I said it was probably nothing.  I mentioned I was concerned.  My husband called me while I was on the phone with the dispatcher and I fairly calmly shouted at him that I was on the phone with the police trying to ensure our missing children were ok and "I WOULD CALL HIM BACK IN JUST ONE DAMN MINUTE".  But it actually is pretty much a bit of a blur.  I heard the dispatcher sending a car to our address to check on "an 18 year old female subject and 8 year old male subject".  After getting off the phone I waited to find out what was going on with my kids.  I called my husband who shared with me the same bowel loosening panic so I didn't feel so alone.  The dispatcher called back when I had a store full of customers to ask for a physical description of my son.  OH MY GOD....I instantly pictured him floating in a pond, flattened in the road, stuck in a garbage can, abandoned in the woods.  And I tried not to panic because I had a store full of customers.  I didn't even ask if they had found him.  I froze.  I couldn't ask.  I focused on his hair.  On his recently cut hair and his inch long curly tail that I make him keep because he has such beautiful curly blond hair.  And I hung up.  Without knowing if they had found my son. Because if he was fine they would have told me.  But they asked for his physical description which meant he wasn't fine and beyond that I didn't want to know.  They asked for a physical description of my son.  If he was in my house and if his sister were available they would not need a physical description of my son.  And I couldn't bear to hear why they would ask for one.

There is a part of me that knew all along that my kids were probably just fine.  I knew that this was simply some stupid little thing and that my kids were perfectly ok.  On an intellectual level I knew as soon as I made the phone call that it was going to be something supremely stupid and we would laugh about it someday down the road.  But there was a part of me that also knew that if...if I didn't make that phone call and have them checked that this would be the one time that there was really something very, very wrong and I would live to regret it for the rest of my empty and worthless life. 

So in the Perfect Storm of mis-communication it turns out that my son was in the basement hiding.  My daughter assumed when she didn't hear back from me immediately that I had her brother with me.  She had left her phone upstairs when she went to get her breakfast so didn't hear my calls or see my texts.  She had just discovered her brother in the basement when she came upstairs to discover a police officer at the door thus inducing her own bowl loosening moment when she (unaware that she and her brother were missing) assumed that a cop at the door meant someone was dead  and knew it had to be me or her dad (so ok-maybe we are a family that overreacts a touch).  She called me to let me know that they were ok at which point I completely lost it.  And we quickly determined no one was in trouble for anything since no one had actually done anything wrong.

I've been a mom for 18 years.  And in 18 years there have been some pretty scary moments.  I can't tell you why this particular moment on this particular day struck in this particular way.  I do know that I am ever grateful to Grand Blanc Township Police for ensuring that my children were safe.  I'm sure they deal with things like this on a daily basis.  This is a first for me.  Hopefully also a last.  I can't even begin to imagine the possibility of something really happening to one or both of my children.  I have learned through this I will not handle it well.  I will panic.  I will fall apart.  I will act and react stupidly and inappropriately.  And this may be something we laugh about someday down the road but from where I sit it is going to be a long long way down that road.  My heart breaks for the people who make the phone call I made today and never get the "it's ok" call back.  Lucky for me all is currently well in Book Ladi land.

Spring Cleaning.

Ah.  Signs of spring.  Not robins.  Not flowers.  Not green grass and blue skies.  It's books.  Wonderful, glorious, abundant and bountiful overflowings of books.  I love owning a used bookstore.  I especially love owning a messy used bookstore.  I'm not being overly sarcastic or facetious when I say that either.  Although I would dearly love to see a robin I am seeing signs of spring every day.  People I haven't seen since the fall are coming in to see me again.  Book collections that went away for the winter are coming back in.  The Plum Series.  Carly Phillips, Sandra Brown, Jennifer Crusie.  Not to mention newer titles that were purchased when my snowbirds ran out of books.  On the surface this does make us look messy and unorganized.  Underneath it all is a whole new inventory outlook.  Messy means I am getting in treasures.  People are doing their spring cleaning.  I'm getting in boxes of old and unique books. It is almost a whole new store every week.  So when I wake up in the morning to 2 more inches of that white stuff that keeps plaguing us or a bright sunny morning that segues into a wintery mix in the afternoon.  When there is nary a robin or flower or hint of green in sight.  I come to work and surround myself with signs of spring. 

Outta Sight and Outta My Mind

I'll be the first to admit I suck at blogging.  I have a million things I think of writing about during the day.  Random thoughts that fly between my ears and out again before I have a chance to grab them and put them in a safe place to take out and stroke, murmer to and otherwise molest at a later date.  Today I thought about a scathing post regarding the difference between Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas.  I thought about posting a witty post about the antics of our new kittens.  I thought about a sappy, tear soaked tribute to my late father without whom Christmas just hasn't been the same.  I even thought about posting a diatribe maligning the ever parasitic Kindle and the downfall of society thanks to technology in general (which would have been hypocritical of me).  And in the end I've decided that since I suck at blogging and all of these thoughts were fleeting at best that I'll just out my suckability here on my blog and move on.

gods in Alabama-part 2

I waited a week.  Why??  I wanted to see if my feelings about the book would change.  That happens sometimes.  I'll read a book and think I feel one way about it and and lo and behold I'll start talking about the book and find out what I'm feeling or thinking isn't exactly what I am feeling or thinking at all.  Confusing??  Yeah, for me too.

Anyway.  The ending was not what I expected.  And I never did figure it out until the end when it was revealed.  I'm actually not going to say anything more because I don't want to give anything away.  Suffice it to say that I never expected it to be option C when only options A or B seemed available.

gods in Alabama-Joshilyn Jackson

OK-Here's the deal. I haven't done a book report since college. Or maybe even high school. And I never got good grades because I always focused on how the book made me feel and not on whether it was well written or point A followed point B. And I always missed when something was left out of a book deliberately. I just assumed the author forgot. I guess I wasn't quite smart enough to catch on to the fact that the mystery at the end was supposed to leave me thinking. Hmmm.... I read purely for pleasure. Most of the time. Sometimes I read for education. But most of the time I read for pure pleasure. I am an escapist. You will hear (read) that a lot. This means that I am not very much concerned with the technical aspects of a story except in the regard that it is crafted well enough to pull me in and let me feel the story and the characters. (It also means that my personal writing is not going to be technically correct either) So let me tell you how "gods in Alabama" is making me feel.

Now normally I wouldn't (will not??-since this is a first for me) write about a reading experience until I am done with the book. But this one kept me up last night. When I first started the book I wasn't too sure about it. It seemed like your typical girl running away from her past and having to go back and face it (yawn) story. However it is our book club book this month and since I've skipped the past few I figured I should suck it up and continue reading. I even considered cheating and reading the reader's guide first so I could key in on the important parts. I'm glad I didn't. So far (and I'm 2/3rds done) the book is written with a self effacing humor and humility that I never expected from the character after reading the first chapter. Despite all her apologies the character is unapologetic about her own flaws and somehow manages to portray a vulnerable strength throughout what I've read so far. Do you see why I was up until my eyeballs got gritty?? Arlene Fleet is a character of cliches without being a cliched character. And the reasoning behind the insane course that she takes makes perfect sense from her point of view. "gods in Alabama" is fascinating to me. I can't wait to see what happens next and if my eyeballs weren't going to fall out of my head at 2 in the morning I would have finished the book already. I do have a preconceived notion about how the book ends. I will keep you posted, without giving the ending away, on whether I am right or not.

Happy reading,

Beth (The Book Ladi)

Suffering from C.O.L.D.

It's a beautiful day outside. Just the type of day I've been waiting for all winter long. The sun is shining. Robins are on the lawn. The trees have a slight (just a very slight) green haze to them. It smells like spring and I can feel the earth coming alive. I ache and itch to accomplish. I feel like I am coming alive after a long dreary winter too. But I am a C.O.L.D. sufferer. Weighted down by the heavy burden of my disease. Unable to move. Literally trapped in my chair. And on this beautiful spring day when I could be up and moving and accomplishing all sorts of wonderful things I sit here. A victim of Cat On Lap Disease.

It's a Beautiful Day.

The sun is shining, the grass is growing...Um...No it's not. OK-wishful thinking there, but the sun is shining and it is an absolutely gorgeous day for early March. Robins have been around for a couple of weeks now and crocuses have been peeking through so I'm thinking early spring maybe. Hoping. This has seemed like a really long winter. The kind of winter that digs in its heels and refuses to be shaken of in spite of early robins and early crocuses. The best part of this spring?? New books. Linda Lael Miller. Robyn Carr. Susan Wiggs. Sheryl Woods. My favorite authors are putting books out like crazy, It's reading nirvana. Book heaven. A wonderland of words if you will. So even if this winter drags on (and on, and on, and on, and on, and...) I'll just tuck up in front of the fireplace with a bowl of popcorn and a glass of tea and sink into a good book that will take me to a warmer clime.

Lean Mean Reading Machine.

I started this blog a couple of years ago with the idea that I would read a book-write a review and than sell the living daylights out of that book when all of the wonderful guests who come into my store read my witty and oh so compelling reviews. So now let me tell you how I utterly failed with this brilliant (oh yes it was) plan. Um...I forgot to write the review. Yeah. That's right. I forgot. Ok-no. I didn't forget. I'm lazy. Ok?? Yeah, I said it. Lazy. L A Z Y. Ok-actually not so much lazy. More like impatient. Reading for me is an adventure. And I always finish a book and am ready for the next adventure. So as I write this now I'm already yearning to be done and start the next adventure. I am going to end this now so I can start reading Angel's Peak by Robyn Carr. Happy next adventure to me.

It's Over

Well not quite, but shortly. I've voted. Now it's all about making the popcorn, grabbing the beverage and either weeping or rejoicing. Strangely I find I really don't care. I thought I was emotionally invested in this election. I thought if the guy I voted for didn't win I would be depressed, inconsolable, unable to go on. For two years I've watched election coverage, gathered facts, dispelled rumors, and done everything I could to get to the hard core truth of each message so I could make an informed choice as a voter and support my nominee and my country. I've written letters to the editor, to the White House and to senators and congressmen. I've urged my customers to vote. Not for my guy, but just to vote in general. I've tried to persuade people to look at the facts and not get lost in the negative campaigning and rumors and out right lies. And it's very frustrating that I don't care. I should be on the edge of my seat. this is an historic election. People are flocking to the polls like crazy. I just want to go home and read a book and find out what happened in the morning. So I guess, for me anyway, it is really over.

Bossy is having a party

In one of my posts you will see a button for Bossy's Poverty Party. I "heart" Bossy. And I "heart" her party. Because thanks to Bossy I was able to sit down and take a good look at my debt and my strengths and my weaknesses in that area. And I've discovered that I have hardly any debt. Enough to be worrisome, but very little in the scheme of things overall. I have a business that runs consistently in the black. I have strong financial instincts and a willingness to make sacrifices for the common good. And that is a good thing because what I also have is (are?) a husband and 2 wonderchildren. Wonder Girl is a sophomore and has a new expense every day that she can't help and didn't know about ahead of time. Wonder Boy is in kindergarten (can I get an awww?) and wants everything he sees. And is the only son of the only son (his grandmother bought him Aqua Globes because he thought they were cool) so he's only slightly (stinkin' rotten) spoiled. Wonder Husband is a Mortgage Specialist (need I really say more?). So although I have a firm grasp on my finances and a saving and spending plan it is frequently knocked off balance by the Wonder Brats and Mr. Man. So my goal as part of Bossy's Party is to get my family to party with me. Wish me luck y'all.

This is a great blog and one of my favorites

The First Post

Haven't a clue what I'm doing, but everyone else seems to have a blog. And Lord knows I want to be like everyone else. Joking. I'll do that a lot. Joke I mean. And sometimes I'm a little sarcastic and a lot left of center (not politically-and we are so not going there anyway). I'm a bit (understatement) of a book worm. I have many labels. Some of them that can even be shared. 2 children. 1 husband. 5 cats. My very own book store (or personal piece of heaven). Um, yeah, and of course a case of writer's block since I've been blogging in my head for weeks now and can't think of a flippin' brilliant thing to write now that I actually am. So-more later.