Weighing What You Read, Let's Be So Happy This Year

Subtitle: Fat Hatred is soooo 2006

I'm going to ignore the non existent pressure of being the first of my colleagues to blog in this new shiny year...hell this new shiny DECADE.
On my walk home from work yesterday, I got to thinking about how my jeans were feeling snugger than usual. The thoughts that followed were the predictable Rube Goldberg-ing of my self image down the rabbit hole zeitgeist that has been the cultural moment of Hannah Montana, the death of two Brazilian supermodels from anorexia, and let us not forget Natalie Portman in Black Swan.

In short, I felt fat. Well, let's be honest... I am fat. My instinct when I re-remember my size in late December is to buy a crappy magazine detailing all the ways I can become someone else...the obvious...the eat less move more platitudes. Well, this year....I'm calling bullshit on that impulse.

Let's look at the facts:

I love my job.
I love my school.
I love my friends.
I love my family. (mostly)
I love my fella.
I have run (not walked mind you) 3 marathons while fitting into Lane Bryant's finery.

So why then, do I have to have a private meltdown every January about my waist to hip ratio? (With my luck a Doctor is reading this and preparing a comment with a litany of HORRIFYING studies detailing just how damn important that particular ratio is but I'll take my chances)

My life is pretty full, and so are my spanx. Must they be opposed?

So, for 2011................................................................................inhale......

I'm done giving my money to magazines that profit off of me feeling less than. I'm done giving my money to authors who want to sell me something that can't be sold.

This year, the only diet I am going on is a financial one. The money I spend on books will be books I want to read. Books that nourish and challenge me. Books and magazines that actually offer something. More Muriel Rukeyser!!!! (lots of her, and other size friendly feminists in our poetry section)

No more of the vapid glossy plateau- busting simulacrums that have repeated themselves for the last 40 years. I am going to spend my money locally, and only at stores that sell a size 14....(the new average for ladies in this here country.) I am going to buy local in season foods, from local farmers, local merchants. I am going to ignore national chains of most ilks. They make their money when we are fat and sad.


So, to all my chubby brethren, I say let us be strong this year, and be satisfied with what we have this very moment. Let us be so damn happy. If dropping 80 lbs is part of that, that's fine, but ....let's seek that change in a positive key. Let's love ourselves healthier. Let's buy books we want to read, clothes we look amazing in, food we love. Let's start that now. Not after we finish "ironically reading" a SELF magazine checklist written by a 21 year old intern who lives on a diet of Yogi tea and Fiber one.


...and to all my skinny cousins out there...perhaps this year you can resolve to treat yourself better as well...

...and if you are one of those people who already treats yourself and your cat to posh designer everythings...then...maybe this year you can challenge yourself to find beauty in diversity. Read, live and love a outside of your comfort zone... (us fatties do it all the time!!!)

All my love to anyone who gave me their precious time to read this little rant. Happy New Year to everyone...just as you are.

Curious George Finds a Final Resting Place

Photograph by Lindsay Metivier,

ruined via Photoshop by the author of this post.

On the last day of the 49th calendar year of the Booksmith, I came in to the store bleary-eyed and fuzzy-headed from my home, where a four-year-old Curious George junkie in recovery had told me just before the door closed "i love you that's why i'm going to give you a big hug."

Scheduled to train a new bookseller on the Atari-era computer system that keeps our records and manages our point of sale, I spent the first hour of the workday struggling to recall the litany of possible sales transactions that, after twelve years of wrangling the reg (pronounced rej) now exist as pure muscle-memory. The hour was long, but fortunately my trainee was patient, as I ended up spending more time chastising my fingers, which were skittering at their typically manic pace across the keyboard, than imparting actual knowledge. "Slow down! Even I can't tell what you're doing."

Release and relief for my cramping brain came in the form of Ric, Cool Ric. Leaving the continuation of the training to the zen master, I stepped down from the reg and immediately into a classic bookselling moment.

"I need something that will make a paper boat, do you have something?"
"...are you looking for a kit? Or a book that includes instructions?"
"I suppose I should tell you what this is for. The boat will carry a family member's ashes out to sea."

Now, a book has not been written about every specific subject, but I'm usually adept at finding needles in haystacks. The next part of this story would usually involve extensive searching down byways and through the crafts section, the card & gift room, google. And when the objective is something so personal and important, any bookseller worth the title would put off all other duties in the pursuit of the prize.

But me? Coming from where I come from? And that boy, who declared his love and his intention to express it, not two hours earlier?
Inigo Montoya holds aloft his beloved murdered father's sword, invokes the spirits, and is guided to the secret knot in the great tree. The six-fingered man is found. Curious George cannot hide his secrets when guided by the spirit of his greatest fan.

In the one where he rides a bike, George provides a step by step diagram explaining how to make a paper boat out of a newspaper.

This is a great day, for all of us.

Except Philip, who didn't learn a thing from me.

On to the Next

Hard to believe another Christmas has come and gone.  It's an odd time of year here in a bookstore.  New titles of the year are barely budding among the collaged shelves of classics and yesterday's reads.  Holiday shopping has dwindled down.  Restocking the shelves won't feel like a running a marathon for a while.  Usually were so focused on what's up and coming that it's nice to relax back into the old favorites for the time being.  This week, I finally had time to leisurely read my favorite holiday picturebooks.  I think I melted into the couch and lost myself between the pages; it was a great experience.  Excuse the cliche, but it was like spending time with old friends, as you loose yourself in a memory that's right in front of you.  And, for a moment, all is good and peaceful.

I hope that you will revisit old favorites, while the snow is thick outside, as well.

Kate's Holiday Tip #3..../ It feels like you are all here...in the store...right now!!!!

As if I need to exhibit any more proof of my suspect childhood...here comes Kate's second to last Holiday tip. Sigh.


Imagine everyone today....as a deer.

So- for whatever reason, when I am in large crowds, I start to imagine everyone as deer. I imagine them as the deer version of themselves...skinny jeans, glasses, baby bjorns, spandex, converse.....whatever they are wearing, they continue to wear, but as deer...deer with purses, messenger bags and helmets, deers with bags of gifts, and 20oz of hot coffee...

I have done this for as long as I can remember. When it happens- I find it soothing to think of people as my favorite spirit animal.

So during this stressful and frantic final week before gifty Mc-Gorge town....remember you can cover everyone on your list in this one store...for reals...then ...take a moment to breathe, close your weary eyes....and imagine a deer in a plaid scarf blogging at a messy desk in the back of the bustling booksmith.

Now, I'm gonna go get some free Taza chocolate from that pretty deer at the front.

Oh deer.

and that's what christmas is all about

Until I was about fifteen years old, my family had a Christmas Eve ritual that featured reading out loud as the main event. The whole day was highly ritualized (luminaria, church, cookies for Santa, etc), but the annual reading was my favorite part. We would come home from church, turn the lights on on the tree, get into pajamas, and start reading.

We always began with Dr. Seuss's How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and my little brother would read that one. We had an old copy, with pages that felt like fine sandpaper and a barely-erased pencil drawing that someone had once made in a fit of book-defacing glee. Then we moved on to The Polar Express, which my dad read. He always inflected the lines in the exact same way, but his version was never boring -- in fact, I can still hear the way in which he always said, "We were on our way home." (Aw. Nostalgia.)

After that, it was my turn, and I read Harvey Slumfenburger's Christmas Present. It's a totally endearing story of one Christmas Eve when Santa realizes, upon returning to the North Pole after a long night of present delivery, that he still has one gift left in his sack. That gift belongs to Harvey Slumfenburger, who lives at the top of the Roly-Poly Mountain, which is far, far away. The book chronicles Santa's journey to Harvey's home -- the reindeer are too tired to fly, so Santa has to find alternative means of transportation. Along the way, he is aided by all sorts of lovely people and gets up to all kinds of hijinks. (When I discovered that my beloved Booksmith doesn't currently carry this title, I was dismayed. Hint hint, Alie/Mark!)

My mom always wound up the reading with The Night Before Christmas. She, too, always read with the same inflections every year, and I'm never able to read the poem without hearing the way she recited it. Then it was off to pick out cookies to leave for Santa (we always left homemade ones that we had frosted earlier that day), and, perhaps foreshadowing the ardent bleeding-heart animal lover that I was to become, I always insisted on leaving carrots, too ("for the reindeer!").

Of course I associate Christmas Eve with cookies and milk, and lights on the Christmas tree, and presents the next morning, but I also will never be able to dissociate it from reading. If your own Christmas Eve ritual needs more oomph, more family-togetherness, try throwing in a book or two (or three, or four). I know that I sound hopelessly nostalgic and tied to the past (and yes, Zoe will probably accuse me of nerdiness -- again), but I can't imagine a better way to have wrapped up our family's Christmas Eve.

It sounds cheesy, and I'm sure that if my parents were to read this blog entry they would dissolve into fits of nostalgia and call me, in tears, immediately -- "I can't believe you remember how I used to read The Night Before Christmas!" -- but really, reading on Christmas Eve is one of the strongest traditions from my own childhood, and I wholly recommend it to anyone and everyone who celebrates Christmas (and Christmas Eve).

And if you need ideas for titles, Booksmith carries three out of four of the books mentioned here, and hopefully will be carrying the fourth shortly. :)

Come, to the Nativity

"But the angel said to them, 'Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.'" (Luke 2:1-11, NIV)

Amidst our overflowing tables of holiday and wintry books, we have great books that focus on the nativity scene.  Please read on the celebration for one of the many reasons of the season.  For all you reluctant readers -- overly cautious on reading the birth of Christ -- please look closely.  Some are more involved with the traditional nativity scene than others.

The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey by Susan Wojciechowski 
For those of you who know the nativity story in and out, try this one out.  You won't be disappointed. Thomas is seven and knows exactly how his nativity set looked -- the beloved set was lost in a recent move.  However, the best wood carver in town is always "mumbling and grumbling,muttering and sputtering, grumping and griping."  Will Thomas get his sheep that look happy? A cow that is proud? And, "'Jesus [...] smiling  and reaching up to his mother.'"?

This edition is also available in a gorgeous P.J. Lynch box set and includes a fabulous audio cd read by James Earl Jones. 

Great Joy by Kate DiCamillo
Frances is a very thoughtful child.  The organ grinder on the street, along with his monkey, are homeless in the bitter cold and snowfall. No else, except for young Frances, has thought to invite this man anywhere.  Newbery author, Kate DiCamillo, inspires readers to share a real spirit of the holidays -- compassion.  With this, along with the words and acrylic gouache paintings, Frances does indeed show how great Joy can light up a room and a life.

Nativity by Julie Vivas
Tattered clothes, a very pregnant lady, and angels in army boots?  I love, love, LOVE this version of Christ's coming.  The bright illustrations reflect an overflowing inn, Mary and Joseph as ordinary humans, angels as warriors on a mission -- not cute little things with fluffy wings -- and people full of curiosity.  Join the celebration in the birth of the Savior.  The text focus on Luke chapter 2, with no nonsense, even though the illustrations will bring many smiles and laughs. 

Charlie Brown Christmas Pop-Up NEW
The text remains faithful to the 30 minute short that plays every year on TV, or it might even be on DVD (perhaps VHS, too) in your very own living room.  Now, it's not quite the same effect, but it is a great pop-up to walk around with Charlie Brown again and hear Linus recalling what Christmas is about.

Best Christmas Pageant Ever by Barbara Robinson
"The first pageant rehearsal was usually about as much fun as a three-hour ride on the school bus, and just as noisy and crowded. This rehearsal, though, was different. Everybody shut up and settled down right away, for fear of missing something awful that the Herdmans might do."

The Herdmans are the bullies of all bullies!  So, what are they doing at the first Christmas pageant practice at the local church?  And, what will they do first? Beat everyone up before the performance, burn the church down, or steal from the offering plate again?  Even though this book focuses on an important holiday for Christians, it is in no way overly-religious.  I'll just say that it was first read to me out loud in second grade, at a very public elementary school.

Christmas is Here illustrated by Lauren Castillo NEW
A boy stops by an outdoor nativity, looking intently at baby Jesus.  Readers are soon sprung into the story of the shepherds hearing the message from the angels that Christ the Savior is born.  I really like this picturebook because it is not over taken by ridiculous extras or overt cuteness.  It is simply the text from Luke 2:8-14, taken from the New King James translation.  The illustrations work to mirror the text in a way that focuses your attention on what is really happening.


A Christmas Manger by H.A. Rey 
Remember staring at the nativity scene when you were a kid?  Waiting for your parents to leave the room so you could play with the "it's just for looking" toy?  Here's one to play with!  This punch-out paper set includes everything you need to recreate the Christmas miracle.  The paper is very durable, so it is perfect to use year after year, or to use as an inexpensive nativity scene for little hands -- more experienced ones, too!

I asked him what his name was.

I came to my desk this morning and there, between the wrist pad and the keyboard, lay one bobby pin; plain, brown, and totally set on not giving up any information. How do you interrogate a bobby pin, you ask? You should've seen me.

He was bent, not too hard, this way, then that way. I roughed him up a bit, tapping him, very gently, against the edge of my desk. I held him upside down.

What's his age? Whether he's worked with straight or curly?
Wavy?

Was it a coworker of mine, who left him there? Mark? Bruno? Eric?
Liz T?

Was it an outside actor?
A circus actor?

Nothing. Silent.
I was left with much respect. For him, not myself.


This all had little or nothing to do with bookselling. The rest of the day is about that. This is about the mysterious drama that even a Monday morning in the Booksmith, not yet open and empty of customers, in the second week before Christmas, can bring.