Woman comes in with an umbrella, shakes it out all over my books. I look at her incredulously, and take a towel and quietly try to wipe up the drops.
"Wow. I haven't see an umbrella in a long time," I said. "It rains all of 8 inches a year around here."
"The hotel had them..." she said.
**********
I can sell the Weird Oregon book all day long, but no one wants the Weird California book.
It's not because they aren't weird...
**********
As I thought, I have no willpower whatsoever in the face of selling candy in my store. I'm slowly but surely eating all the Turkish Taffy.
**********
Speaking of candy. My brother left a huge pile of Rex Stout 'Nero Wolfe' mysteries, and I've been ah, hem, wolfing them down. Short books, pithy. What's most dated about them isn't that everyone wears hats and calls each other "Mr." and "Mrs." and uses phone booths. What's most dated is the treatment of women, who usually fall into the "Madonna or the Whore" category. Such a "frail" species, who must be taken care of. It's kind of weird, like a species once existed on this earth that we men used to take care of who has disappeared.
***********
I was talking with a customer about George R.R. Martin's tendency to kill off major characters, and I said, "Yeah, and he doesn't just kill them in glorious battle -- he has to kill them or maim them in some humiliating way...."
Hey, wait a minute. I've read these books! They're better written than the Gor books, but...
**********
Linda's back is slowly getting better. She went to a chiropractor. I grew up in a doctor's family and 'chiropractor' was a dirty word. Never been to one, never will. (It was funny -- we were talking about it at Bend Memorial Clinic while dealing with Dad -- but we talked in whispers.)
But Linda wanted to go. He did a scan of her back and told her it was in her muscles and nerves, and would slowly get better on its own.
Color me officially impressed. (I'd been telling her the same thing --- being a doctor's son and all makes me such and expert and all.)
**********
Saw some N.C. Wyeth art on a site, and tried to order some of his illustrated books. (King Arthur wasn't available??!!) Anyway, I figure his artwork was at least as responsible for my life turn into fantasy as J.R.R. Tolkien was. (That and historical novels by Harold Lamb and Mary Renault.) In other words, I was primed. Tolkien and R.E. Howard were inevitable.
**********
I think I might be completely -- so far --- utterly uninterested in J.K. Rowlings adult novel.
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6 comments:
""It rains all of 8 inches a year around here."
Actually it's about 12 inches. And it often likes to do it two inches at a time.
I've tried to figure out why Bendites don't use umbrellas. I've concluded its a combination of (a) not wanting to admit it rains here and (b) being too dumb to protect themselves when it does.
Linda should see a good physical therapist and learn some exercises to stretch and strengthen her back. Chiropractors do nothing, and doctors just prescribe pain meds. Which have their place, but don't solve the underlying problem. I finally went to a physical therapist for help with recurring back pain and am really glad I did.
""It rains all of 8 inches a year around here."
Actually it's about 12 inches."
Actually, it's 12 inches of precipitation a year...which includes rain and snow. Tut tut, Bruce. : )
And for the record, Redmond, all of 17 miles from Bend, gets between 8 to 10 inches of precipitation per year on average. Curious, eh?
HBM,
Since you live in Bend and are thus a Bendite. And since you state that:
"I've tried to figure out why Bendites don't use umbrellas. I've concluded its a combination of (a) not wanting to admit it rains here and (b) being too dumb to protect themselves when it does."
Into which of the two categories do you fall?
RDC: I own umbrellas and am willing to use one when the weather calls for it. Therefore I am not in either category.
As somebody on another blog once scornfully told me: "You're not Bend material."
I thought it was one of the nicest compliments I'd ever had.
Wednesday Wats on a Thursday? Kinky.
Umbrellas don't make sense for much of Oregon—too damn windy. People who forgo raincoats however... Who knows their excuse?
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