I dragged out the two containers of coffee I use every morning to make my one pot of the delicious nectar of life and discovered I barely had enough to last the week.
Running out of coffee is not something that is easily remedied. I do not run to the local Walmart, Kroger or even ALDI to pick up a new pound of freshly ground. No, I must plan my escape - I mean my trip to Nashville to visit Trader Joe and grab another canister of New Mexico Pinon Coffee which is only the best coffee ever!
I practically smile all day long knowing that not only will I grab some fine coffee, but I will also grab some Cranberry Oatmeal cookies. Yum Yum.
I'm showered and out of the house before 9am. I am in Trader Joe an hour later and happily munching cookies ten minutes after that wondering what to do with myself now - the whole town at my beck and call.
I make a run to the farmers market and find a 44 ounce jar of Wildflower honey made in Tennessee. I am a honey convert. A fine supplement to the sweet nectar of life is the sticky nectar of life.
After that I ponder my options and decide to find the Goodwill. I wander around town quite a bit, finding the hole in the ground where it use to be and a large sign telling me where it now resides. So I head off in that direction and after a couple of erroneous starts and backtracks I find the Mack Daddy of Goodwill stores all but hidden in a maze of back streets, clearly visible from the expressway, but difficult to maneuver.
As I stand in front the wall of hard back books I know all the trouble has been worth it! I begin on the left and work my way to the right.
I find treasure right off the bat. A first edition of an American translation.
Two rows down another find, 1st edition of The Fabric of Memory by an Eleanor Robson Belmont. I have not a clue who she is, but it was published in 1959, the book is pristine and the pictures reveal a magnificent woman in old turn of the century garb. I realize she is the Belmont of The Belmont race track. Yes indeed!
I find a lot of 1st editions and my arm becomes strained trying to hold them as I continue to read through the titles. I decide to park them on an end table positioned behind me. I keep my eye on them as I feel another person begin to study the books to my left, going through the titles just as I was doing.
I pull out a cook book or two and set it on my pile becoming more and more wary of the guy next to me with his long yellowish white hair, pulled back in a foot long pony tale. Obviously well dressed in pressed jeans and a corduroy jacket. "A dealer?" I think to myself.
As he gives up his search he walks behind me and toward the doors. He leans sideways and reads the titles I have set aside.
"Do you like John Updike?" he asks me.
I hesitate a moment and then say, "Sure, I like him."
He returns to the book case, pulls a book that I have already passed and hands it to me.
Rabbit at Rest.
"I see you enjoy good literature" he says, bows slightly and walks away.
As is my habit these days, I flip it open and look at the copyright page.
A first edition. Unread, perfect condition.
I place it on my pile and turn to repeat the thank you. He has vanished.
I was stunned when I researched the value of that book.
All because I needed coffee.
7 comments:
Your life is an adventure and I am often having vicarious pleasure while reading about it. I love books and fear that I could become not a crazy cat woman but a woman surrounded by musty books. With my asthma, that could be a real problem. What a great find! I remember a college course and loving being exposed to authors such as Updike.
Now that's a great day. The world at large may not know who we small bloggers are. Their loss. You're a hell of a lot more interesting and a much better writer than most of the big time blogs that I've read.
I love reading about your treasure trove finds. I have to agree with Cynthia, you are a much better read than most of the blogs I've come across. (Hugs)Indigo
What a lovely gift - maybe the guy read your thoughts...
Well, that doesn't sound the least bit boring or ho hum. When you look back to see where you were on October 8, 2009 you will rediscover a gem of moment in your life. And I think, in the end, that's exactly what these personal blogs are all about ~ leaving and sharing a record of who we are. Perhaps it's something we share with your Mrs Eleanor Robson Belmont in the intriguingly titled 'Fabric of Memory'. The medium changes but not the impulse to record. I'd be interested to hear your impressions of her story.
Lovely post. :)
What an excellent entry! I couldn't stop reading.
This sounds like a practically perfect day. I'm going to have to run over to Trader Joe's and give that coffee a try.
Post a Comment