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it's a blue bright blue saturday, hey hey
May. 30th, 2009 09:02 amWork adventures of yesterday: a girl and her mother bought a great pile of books, on top of which was an Eva Ibbotson (The Morning Gift)! I was delighted and told them so; the girl confessed that she also adores Ms Ibbotson. Dear me, I feel like starting all over again -- I have five Ibbotsons in matching editions lined up in the book closet now -- although I've read the books to figurative bits in the last six months. I can't tell you how incredibly cosy and happy-making her novels are; the clichés are mostly of the comfortable, well-worn-quilt sort, and her prose is so delicious that I can feel it in my mouth. Also it is something of a relief that I finally have comfort reading that actually resembles comfort reading to the outside world -- Sunshine and I Capture the Castle and Baby were beginning to be a little worrying. (Of course there's also L.M. Montgomery -- whom, actually, Eva Ibbotson considerably resembles, except she writes in great loving tender detail about England and Vienna rather than Canada: but they have similar approaches to characters major and minor, and similar hard-won optimism, and delightful prose, and the ability to make me read romance-plot books and adore them.)
I am working again tonight -- hurrah paycheck! also hurrah for working Saturdays, when it is exactly my favourite kind of busy: viz. a lot of working with customers and selling books, rather than endless shelving and organising and packing returns into boxes and not having anything to do so bouncing sparkly light-up rubber balls behind the counter instead. (This is okay because it occasionally causes small children to beg their mothers for such a ball, and then we sell some. Yes, the problem with corporate chains is that we sell all sorts of entirely non-book-related nonsense.) And, I must say, I am quite pleased with my outfit today: sophisticated black skinny jeans; my white Lip Service blouse with black lace round the collar and puffed sleeves with little black bows on the ends; a brown plaid vest that criss-crosses in the back; a Mona Lisa brooch pendant; darling checked flats; and the most charming and job-appropriate earrings ever, made for me by the marvellous![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lexiedoh. Yes, they are indeed wee books. ♥
And this morning my wake-up call consisted of being pounced upon by a small fluffy beast who seems to believe that it is my Sacred Duty to pet and cuddle her. And by this morning, I mean not so very long ago: there is little of the day to report, as it is nine thirty in the morning, and I am sitting up in bed (dressed and awake and the bed is made, really! -- I had to make it around the laptop, though, which was a bit ridiculous) listening to NPR.
(note: I am almost certain that Mr Arnalds wrote the song I am playing after watching Pan's Labyrinth: note the title, not to mention that it sounds like a riff off the main theme. Gorgeous.)
I am working again tonight -- hurrah paycheck! also hurrah for working Saturdays, when it is exactly my favourite kind of busy: viz. a lot of working with customers and selling books, rather than endless shelving and organising and packing returns into boxes and not having anything to do so bouncing sparkly light-up rubber balls behind the counter instead. (This is okay because it occasionally causes small children to beg their mothers for such a ball, and then we sell some. Yes, the problem with corporate chains is that we sell all sorts of entirely non-book-related nonsense.) And, I must say, I am quite pleased with my outfit today: sophisticated black skinny jeans; my white Lip Service blouse with black lace round the collar and puffed sleeves with little black bows on the ends; a brown plaid vest that criss-crosses in the back; a Mona Lisa brooch pendant; darling checked flats; and the most charming and job-appropriate earrings ever, made for me by the marvellous
lexiedoh. Yes, they are indeed wee books. ♥And this morning my wake-up call consisted of being pounced upon by a small fluffy beast who seems to believe that it is my Sacred Duty to pet and cuddle her. And by this morning, I mean not so very long ago: there is little of the day to report, as it is nine thirty in the morning, and I am sitting up in bed (dressed and awake and the bed is made, really! -- I had to make it around the laptop, though, which was a bit ridiculous) listening to NPR.
(note: I am almost certain that Mr Arnalds wrote the song I am playing after watching Pan's Labyrinth: note the title, not to mention that it sounds like a riff off the main theme. Gorgeous.)
