Debuts and Distractions

Dear Reader -  We made it! It's been two years since we took the paper off the windows and opened our doors, if softly. And from those first flu-wake days to these, you have been there with us - faithfully. Thank you.

These past couple of months have found me a bit subsumed in more transitional events in our homelife, which'll certainly tie into a later post. But, more relevant in the moment, the last few days have been taken up with something nearest to my heart: Miss C, in whose honor I added this window display this past week:

As you may remember, Miss C embarked on her own journey this fall, choosing a life in the wilds of boarding school. As she hoped, the experience has been an extraordinary one for her - a great fit for the kind of person that she is and wants to become. And though I miss her terribly from day to day, I'm contented to know that she is living and creating her dream.

Part of this creation has been fed by landing a role in the school's winter production of A Midsummer Night's Dream. As a freshman, she knew it was a long shot, so she was tickled to get to be one of the Mechanicals, Robin Starveling (best known for the Moonshine bit), who perform the hillarious "play within the play" (plus, she and a few of her fellow Rustics got to be fairies attending Titania in their spare time, too).

Some of you have known Miss C over the years, and you've seen what an expressive kid she's been from the very beginning:

Now I've limited myself to sharing more "vintage" shots of C's expressiveness, thinking that most anything more contemporary'd mortify her teenage self to near death; but suffice it to say that this trait did not end at the elementary school threshold. In fact, Rehoboth Elementary is where she found a gifted and dedicated teacher, Ms. Gray, who worked with some equally gifted and dedicated volunteers each year to put on a major production that engaged a huge portion of the school's third, fourth, and fifth graders. Miss C got to be a mouse in Cinderella, Lisle in The Sound of Music, and a formidable Miss Hannigan in Annie:

But when we all decided that the awesome, independent, and cozy Jefferson School was best for her middle school years, she had to shelve her more formal theatrics for a bit.

Lucky for her, her chosen high school has a splendid theater department, led by Harvey Doster, one of those teachers whose endurance for teenage theatrics is legendary at the institution (those of you who shared time with Mac with me at AHS can relate). Miss C was in actor's heaven. as evidenced by the photos that her admissions officer sent along from opening night:

 

 

 

But none of this - neither the pictures nor the past - prepared me for the scene that blew them all, and me, away: the performance of "Pyramus and Thisbe" at the end of the play. Oh my word, Miss C had only a few lines, but her physical, comedic acting was a stellar - a really, really funny contribution to an already really, really funny scene - a truly entertaining ensemble performance by all of the girls. Miss C was fully committed in a way that took me back to her never-met grandmother's theatrics. Those of you who knew Mac knew Mom, too - so you can extrapolate that Miss C comes by all of this honestly:

I can't wait to see where she takes it all - and where it all takes her. In the meantime, I'm just a happy to get to be in the audience. Vive la Shakespeare!  - Jenny

P.S. There couldn't be any more fitting serenade for these ladies of my life than Ms. Merman:

The kismet just keeps on coming (or how we got an awesome book table)

Dear Reader -  We are in that season of magic, and we had our own little magic moment this past week.

Linda was watching the shop while I was moving the sorting room with Ingrid and Julie and Nathalie (lovingly dubbed by Minivan Mafia sisters). We wrapped up our move round about 1:30, and after some errands I headed home to grab lunch.

Linda called. She said, "What're you doing?" Excitedly ignoring my reply that I was eating lunch, she continued, "You need to come over to the shop. There's something you need to see."

I put my lunch on the bookcase, picked up the dog, and over we went.

Linda greeted us with a Vanna White-ish gesture, drawing our eyes to the couch and this:

Yes! A book table! What every bookshop needs (and its beat up in such a way as to make it perfect here in a used setting).

So you're wondering how it got here, right? Well, that's the magic part, dear Reader.

A nice lady that Linda'd never seen before came in to get a card, and when she was checking out she said, "You know, I have something out in my car that you might like to have." She told Linda that the table was slated for a future at Goodwill. Linda took one look and happily accepted the woman's kind offer.

It's perfect for the space: perfect footprint, perfect height, perfect colors. The detailing throughout is awesome, like the indentation of the "pages" along the sides:

We're in love with it - and we're so grateful. Thank you, Nice Lady, for giving us your wonderful table and for buying a card.

Happy Christmas, indeed!  - Jen

P.S. We've all been digging the She and Him Christmas album this season. Here they are with Conan, having a little holiday fun with one of the classics:

A little childlike wonder here in Lewes

Dear Reader -  One of my favorite family traditions growing up in small-town Kansas was hitting the road in our gianormous Pontiac station wagon to "go see the lights." We'd toodle around our little town of Augusta a bit and then head over to the "big city" of Wichita, lingering the longest in Eastborough, where Mom loved the neighbors' tasteful takes on holiday hoopla.

To this day, I'm a sucker for a simple, pretty holiday display, and I'm charmed by so many of my neighbors' homes here in Lewes.

But what I'm in love with this December is the new creation that our town blacksmith (you may remember how I met him a couple years back and what an interesting and astonishing character he is - here's the story) has assembled over at Preservation Forge.

By day it's delightful and engaging:

By night it's stunning and enchanting:

Now I don't have to tell you, dear Reader, that my silly iPhone photos are sad, not coming close to doing John's art justice. So, if you happen to be driving through Lewes over the next few weeks, make a turn onto Third Street and stop by at the corner of Chestnut. John's creation is sure to kindle that sense of childlike wonder in your heart, too!

Blessings to you, dear Reader, as you settle in to celebrate with those you love.  - Jenny

P.S. I've been wearing out my Doris Day CD here at the shop this season - love this little ditty (cheesy graphics notwithstanding):

P.S.S. In my eyes, the best thing that those of us who care about the tragedy in Connecticut but who are distant from it can do in response is to love the children who're closest to our lives. Whether it's sharing a smile with a child in the checkout line at the grocery store or dashing down the stairs with our own children to find what's waiting under the tree, every act of kindness that we share with a child sows a seed of hope and peace. Let's love every child in our lives with utter abandon.

The Wilds of Hospitality, or Cream Puff?

Dear Reader -  I first learned of Hospitality Night in legendary terms in advance of last year's event. You'd think that inviting our regular guests, as well as our friends and neighbors here in Lewes in for a little touch of something at the holidays'd result in a heapin' helpin' of that sweet, small-town-Americana-run-amok-ish-ness that we've all come to love here. The kind that's exemplified in this beatific photo from the Cape Gazette of my fellow shopkeeper Maureen down at Aquamarine:

But my colleagues on Second Street terrorized me with tales of gauche, greedy, often thieving hordes (literally hordes and hordes of people). I have to admit that I was kinda unnerved by the prospect. For instance, one shopkeeper had a tradition of serving homemade meatballs each year, 'til someone showed up in the crowd with a Tupperware container and proceeded to fill it. Another told of how they'd been robbed blind the first year they did it, so they've since learned to remove their valuable merchandise from the floor.

Trampling and breaking and spilling, oh my

This image from the bonfire tradition in Lewes, England somehow seemed more apt:

But rather than running willy-nilly into the streets, wailing and decrying tradition, this, dear Reader, is when my penchant for control issues came in handy. I quickly stepped back and realized that we are a bookshop - we sell things made of paper. Paper does not do well with liquid, so we decided not to serve any. I also recognized that self-service is for gas stations and buffet restaurants, so our offering would be individually served.

Then the question was, what to offer? I remembered my days as a development director at Yale and the horror that was the mini-spanakopita. Good heavens! They served that most socially inept of all noshes at every darn cocktail hour in the 90s:

 
The mini-spanakopita had multiple problem points:

1. Garlic. Way too much of it for polite company.
2. Spinach. Cooked down so as to make it ideal for lodging between teeth.
3. The relativity of "mini." Mini-spanakopita are, granted, smaller than the traditional ones that I've ordered at many a Greek diner. However, mini-spanakopita are still too darn big to eat in one bite.
4. Phyllo dough. Phyllo dough is the world's most crumbly substance. I know this 'cause I've witnessed it at near nigh a million cocktail parties. You cannot bite into something made of phyllo dough without having it rain down on whatever you're wearing. If you're all decked out in a little black number for said cocktail party, well, you get the picture. (And don't get me started on how it sticks to your lips ['specially lipsticked ones] and sorta spits off in little puffs as you start to try to say something cocktail-party-worthy after your last bite.)
5. The net effect is the most socially awkward cocktail gnosh known to humankind.

I could not inflict anything remotely mini-spanakopita-ish on biblion's guests - hordes or no hordes - it just wouldn't be cool. So I regaled Ingrid with my spanakopita exploits at Yale, and she had the perfect solution - the mini-cream puff:

The mini-cream puff is a lovely food. It's a perfect bite. It's sweet, but not over-sweet. It has an appealing blend of textures and temperatures. And it's socially simple, since (nearly*) everyone knows what a cream puff is all about.

So we put Ingrid just inside our front door, greeting each guest with a friendly offer of, "Cream puff?"

Once inside the guests were delightful, as our guests typically are. They had a blast giggling together over our cards and gifts, finding fun things for many of their friends and family members. And we had a blast with them. It was a lovely, evening, and we're looking forward to it again this week on Thursday night from 6 to 9.

So come down, enjoy the music-filled streets, sit down with Santa, visit our nice array shops, and stop by for a little cream puff on us!

Festively  - Jenny

* We did have one guest who was a little baffled by the puff. She shyly asked Ingrid what was in it. "Cream," Ingrid smiled in reply.

P.S. We've gotta have some tunage to go with this. Speaking of the 90s, let's go with Aaron Neville's Christmas album from that vintage:

Celebrate Veterans Day

Dear Reader -  We're marking Veterans Day this weekend with two book signings by local authors, and we hope that you'll stop by to support them.

We've carried Vincent dePaul Gisriel's book Hearts Away, Bombs Away for some time, but this'll be our first chance to have him in for a signing. We're thrilled, since every guest who finds his books walks away delighted - it's a real treasure:

After his father's death, Vince was inspired to learn more about his dad's experience in World War II. As part of his research, Vince poured through his parents' correspondence from those years. And while he learned a lot about what the war was like on the front lines as well as the home front, the real story that emerged was the love story between his mom and dad.

Vince will be here on Veterans Day, Sunday the 11th, from 11:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m.

Terri Clifton's book A Random Soldier is likewise about war in real-life: a young Marine's experience of the Iraq War and how his family and friends lived it with him and then lived together through his death:

Terri comes by biblion from time to time, and she never fails to move our guests. She'll be here on Saturday the 10th from Noon to 2:00 p.m.

Whatever you're doing this weekend, please be sure to take a moment to honor our veterans in a way that feels meaningful to you.

Truly  - Jen

P.S. The Andrews Sisters, of course:

God's Opening Flower: Marianne of Molokai

Dear Reader -  Today is All Saints’ Day. For those of us in America, it’s not a big deal unless we’re part of a liturgical church (and, heck, even then it’s lost its luster as a feast in some circles). But I remember back when I lived in a more traditionally Roman Catholic country: the whole world shut down to mark the occasion.

Since I’m sitting here in Lewes, my shop is open – and nobody’s stopped by to wish me a good one. Not surprising. But I’m finding myself feeling a little wistful this year.

Why?

As I told my church choir buddies a week ago at rehearsal, my mom’s Aunt Marianne (for whom I’d written a poem that our former director, George Bayley, set to music for us all to sing) was canonized at St. Peter’s Basilica on October 21 (the eleventh American to be named). So this is her first All Saints’ Day as an official saint.

Now, anybody who knew of her knew well that she didn’t need any official designation to deserve reverence and appreciation, but it still feels good to have her recognized.

Known as Mother Marianne of Molokai for most of her life, the work that gained her the most attention was with the leper colony on that remote Hawaiian island. But her work for those who were outcasts and social pariahs began long before that, as I learned in the books that my mom shared with me about her when I was growing up.

She opened and administered some of the first general hospitals in the United States in upstate New York. Her work was groundbreaking in two ways: she figured out that good hygiene was key, implementing practices that are still in place today, and she also refused to bend to the social barriers that kept many from medical care, including race. In particular, her willingness to care for alcoholics scandalized society.

As mother superior of her order in Syracuse, she answered the Hawaiian king’s plea for help with the leper colonies after 50 other religious orders from around the world had refused – and the sisters of her order volunteered in droves to help as well.

The conditions that the nuns encountered on the islands were horrific. Employing the same brand of practicality and determination, Mother Marianne transformed the hospitals into clean, functional institutions. She and her sisters had to exercise a lot of bravery as well, standing up to the royals and their government as well as the unscrupulous men who ran roughshod over the lepers, particularly in the colony on Molokai (an island which served as a natural prison).

After Father Damien (who has since been canonized for his groundbreaking work on Molokai) succumbed to the disease, Marianne and her sisters took on his responsibilities. In the course of their work, the women transformed the colony – not only making it a clean and sanitary home, but also adding beauty and joy to what was previously a bleak existence - planting gardens, making beautiful clothes, teaching the children, and sharing music. Not one of them ever contracted leprosy in the decades that they served.

Marianne’s love of music became the inspiration for the title of my poem: God’s Opening Flower. Her favorite song was Makalapua (The Opening Flower), which was sung at her beatification at St. Peter’s seven years ago. And the heart of the poem, the line “What I did I did for joy,” came from an astonishing and transformative moment that I shared with her in a meditation.

So, even though I can’t be part of any particular celebrations on her behalf this All Saints' Day, I figure I can celebrate with you here, dear Reader, and share my little poem. Thanks so much for indulging me!

Blessings  - Jen

God’s Opening Flower:

Blessed Mother Marianne of Molokai

 written in honor of her feast day on January 23, 2006, by Jen Mason

Who are the wretched and outcast among us?

Do we see them? Do we know them? Do we hold them as they are?

Or do we turn away, veiling our lives: setting a darkness and distance which calms our fears?

In our darkness a voice breaks through:

            What I did I did for joy

            My life filled up to brim and over

            Sharing in pure brightness the joys of living

            God has made me an Opening Flower

Lives that knew nothing but wretchedness and isolation: cast out and left to the wolves of lust and greed.

To these lives came our Opening Flower, revealing the beauty and dignity that dwelt there all along.

Lives that lived in another kind of prison: locked in the illusion of perceived superiority.

Our Flower gently lifted that veil of security, shielding the open souls from all danger and harm.

For in our darkness a voice breaks through:

            What I did I did for joy

            My life filled up to brim and over

            Sharing in pure brightness the joys of living

            God has made me an Opening Flower

Our Opening Flower knows the wretched and the outcast among us. She knows what is outcast within us, too.

She boldly, safely leads us through the trappings of our own shuttered minds and souls to the beauty and dignity that dwells with us today.

“The charity of good knows no creeds and is confined to no one place.”

We, too, must follow where joy and beauty lead.

For what we do we do for joy

Our lives filled up to brim and over

Sharing in pure brightness the joys of living

God will make of us Opening Flowers.

(And now, dear Reader, you can see what a talented fellow George Bayley is for figuring out a way to set this less-than lyrical poem to music - and how kind my fellow singers were for singing it with me!)

P.S. We gotta have music, right? I've listened along to Mr. Bruno Mars every now and then with Miss C on XM, but none of his songs have ever really stuck for me. That is, until now - I saw this new song of his performed on SNL a couple Saturdays ago. It's so darn happy (even talks about heaven [grin], and I figured it was performed pretty darn close to the same time as her canonization - so I'm thinking it's a good, if unorthodox, accompaniment to my musings about Aunt Marianne (hint: don't skip the ad, or you'll get taken to some odd place on youtube):

 

Steve Hayes is coming!

Dear Reader -  Our regular guest and neighbor, Steve Hayes, has written an engaging and compelling adventure story called Light on Dark Water, and he's coming to sign it here at biblion this Friday, August 31, from 6-8 p.m.

 

Our friend Henry Evans from the Cape Gazette recently interviewed Steve and wrote one of his wonderful stories. You can read it here.

Our advance readers loved the book, calling it engaging and very well written. The story pulls from Steve's own experiences as a seasoned sailor and a Vietnam War veteran. Adventure with a little thoughtfulness woven in - very nice.

As you may remember, Terri Clifton has an ongoing presence here at the shop, as her advocacy for veterans continues. In all of her conversations with vets, she's heard from many of those from Vietnam that they regretted that others have told their stories. Terri has taught me that anytime one steps forward to give us a glimpse into the heart of that war, it's our place to pay attention to what they have to say.

Plus, Steve's book is brief and accessibly priced, so if you haven't enjoyed one of our local authors up to this point, there's nothing to lose with trying this one!

Come on by on your way to or from dinner on Friday, have a little glass of something festive with us, and wish Steve well!

Cheers!  - Jen

P.S. Who among us couldn't help but be affected by the forces at play through the 60s . . .

'Cause I'm in the . . .

. . . Miss-C's-going-off-to-boarding-school-tomorrow frenzy/funk, dear Reader, I've only got time for a super quick one.

Today's super-sweet-super-Lewes-sight-outta-our-window: five nuns eating King's ice cream . . .

Happily hitting the road with Miss C (who's almost fully packed: all hail the power of the list!)!  - Jen

P.S. Miss C has very wisely chosen those wonderful, whacky brothers Davies for our first traveling music. So, in honor of her now-size-12 feet, which attest to the likelihood that she'll be taller than me 'n my size 10s by the time I see her next:

P.S.S. My sincere apologies to anyone who listened to the first Kinks recording that I linked to - I picked the vintage footage from Youtube when I was at the shop, but I was unable to listen to the audio (didn't wanna disturb the guests with conflicting tunage). The audio was disturbing - modulated keys like 20 times - lesson learned, dear Reader. I thought that this road trip footage seemed happy and fitting.  - J

Along the Delmarva Coast

Dear Reader -  You know how we often start sentences with phrases like "as many of you know"? Well, I started to do that, and then I thought - heck, other than Weather Channel junkies like me, who else is gonna know that we celebrated National Lighthouse Day this past week on August 7?

We have two beautiful ones here - the Delaware Breakwater East End and the Harbor Refuge Lighthouses, and of course there's our lovingly restored Lightship Overfalls docked in Lewes. Several of our regular visitors even remember the iconic Cape Henlopen Light, which collapsed due to erosion in the 20s.

This week's book signing calls them all to mind, and it's a charmer. Jean Abplanalp, a former resident here and a dear friend of our dear friend Hazel Brittingham, has written and illustrated a delightful book: Along the Delmarva Coast.

Jean has researched the histories of all of the lighthouses, lightships, and lifesaving stations from Delaware down to Virginia on the peninsula. Each history is accompanied by a charming watercolor of the subject (many of which Jean will bring with her for sale as well). Her publisher decided to put it out as in paperback, making it accessibly priced as a gift or personal keepsake. We've had the book in the shop now for a couple of months, and feedback has been very positive - particularly on how well the histories are researched.

Please join us on Saturday, August 11, from 1:00 - 3:00 p.m.

Sounds like it could be a drippy day, so what better way to spend a rainy Saturday (after you visit the Tomato Festival!) than to take one of the lighthouse tours, catch a yummy lunch in Lewes, and then visit biblion!?

Delighted  - Jenny

P.S. Here're a few lighthouse keepers (serenaded by Neptune's Car) to get you in that lighthouse state of mind:

Guess who's joining us for Friday evening cocktails?

Dear Reader -  I've been in a bit of a Miss C's-away-at-her-dad's-for-a-couple-weeks-and-I-miss-her-all-the-more-'cause-it's-much-too-close-to-when-she's-gonna-be-away-for-a-long-long-time funk.

Luckily, little biblion has been hoppin', so that has kept my fully occupied (my poor home is so neglected, though, that one of the dust bunnies in the living room actually grew to such maturity that it up and asked me when I was going to attend to it!).

But, there're just too many fun things going on over on Second Street. Tomorrow night, Friday, August 3, we're welcoming one of our most popular local authors, James Schneider, for a little book signing from 5-7:

Jamie's mystery, based in Lewes and Reho of the 60s, In the Shadow of Silver Lake, was a huge hit last summer:

We had several guests come back and comment on how much they enjoyed this fun, beach read of a book. And Jamie was surprised and delighted when he received notice in the mail of the unsolicited, independent publishing awards that it'd won (hence his title of "award winning" in the flier that he produced)!

This year he's done another suspense novel with some local flavor, legal intrigue, and romance tossed in the mix:

Come and join us for a little glass of something, meet Jamie, maybe hear about his charity, and have him personalize a copy of his book(s) for you! What a happy way to start a Friday evening!

Cheers!  - Jen

Small-Town-Americana Run Amok

Dear Reader -  Having a bookshop in Lewes is kinda like being an adjunct visitors-center-information-booth-public-safety-patrol-realtors-association-restroom-locator-restaurant-reviewer-town-ambassador-yadda-yadda-yadda - in short, whoever's working is Julie on the Loveboat. And one of the phrases that I'm heard saying about little Lewes over and over again that it's the quintessential small-town-American run amok. There is some sorta festival somthin' happening just about every week for locals and visitors alike to dive into.

Now no day embodies this reality here more than July 4. As Miss C'd say: it is so adorable.

The day kicks off around 9:00 a.m. with the Old Fashioned Children's Games:

  

We shut down Second Street and let kids loose on it for the entire morning to do every manner of goofy game - sack races, ice-block pushing - there even used to be a greased pole contest, but I think that had to be ca-bashed with the new streetscape a few years back. It's a blast and a half for everyone - the families who participate and those of us who just show up to goof on it.

(An Aside:  For years, the event was run by Larry McLaughlin and Gilbert Holt - two City of Lewes employees [Larry ran the Streets Department and Gilbert was at the Board of Public Works]:

They both loved the tradition and were fantastic about making it fun for us all - giving selflessly of their time and energy to bring it to life. Tragically, Larry was killed in an accident on the evening of July 4, 2010, and we mourned the loss of Gilbert this past year. Because of their efforts, the games are a tradition that is strong enough to survive their loss, but I can't help but feel a little bittersweet at the remembrance of them today.)

The next big thing is the boat parade down at the dock at 2:00 p.m.:

 

 

It's typically a whole lotta flags and a whole lotta waitin', but it's a whole lotta fun, too!

And then, late in the afternoon - at an -ish-ish kinda time around 5:30-ish, the most un-grandish of traditions commences - the Doo-Dah Parade:

 

 

Everybody and their dog (literally) shows up to be part of this ad hoc parade, that legend has it started as an adult beverage run from the Shockley's. The parade sports everything from the most organized of organizations to the last-minute-inspired-by-the-small-town-Americana-spirit visitor. It has become one of the most beloved of traditions for it's untraditional traditionalness. We love it.

So come on down to Lewes and get your own heapin' helpin' of Americana (and a little glass of somethin' while Doo Dah-ing with us this afternoon at biblion)!

Vive la Independence!

Amok! Amok! Amok!  - Jenny

P.S. And a couple perfect doses of that Americana tradition to close . . . 

Best Quote of the Day: June 30

Dear Reader -  Yesterday's quote of the day came from a young couple who were hanging with me during siesta-time, as we listened to Bombay Bicycle Club's _Flaws_ (the perfect siesta-time album):

"This is probably the coolest store I've ever been in," she said.

"Yeah," he replied.

Contentedly  - Jen

My "year off"

Dear Reader -  I'm not quite sure how it came to this; but, somehow or another, we've ended up with a perception of "real" that connects most tangibly for many of us to the ethereal world of the digital. Things aren't really real unless we feel like we can touch them all the time, no matter where our fingers lie.

Now our little shop is situated on the main street of what's too often called "the first town in the first state." There's a whole'lotta tangible going on here in Lewes. But there's a whole'lotta ethereal, too, what with our grip on history and legend and tradition. biblion skitters around the edges of all that. We live in the only Italianate building here in Sussex County (per Lewes's leading historian, Hazel Brittingham) - a building where a myriad of beloved businesses set up shop, where members of the Coast Guard took their meals during WWII, where the Brittinghams fed Lewes's teenagers in the 50s, and where pre-teens hid behind St. Peter's walls and threw odd things at the bigger kids as they went to hang out at Mitchell's in the 70s (per Ed and Dickie). History happened here - big H and little h.

 

(photo by Mike Mahaffie)

But mostly we embody the whole present tense, "bricks and mortar" thing. We're all about the magic that can only happen when we're physically together in a space - together with each other, together with books, together with ideas. The five of us who work here see it every day. Magic.

As Ricky Ricardo would say, I've got some 'splainin' to do: it's been a long, long while since I've given much attention to this ethereal, digital world. But I didn't realize just how much our online presence was missed 'till two things happened: I stumbled across our first "review" on the Internet (which kindly apologized for our pathetic Web presence and said that we were cool anyhow - thank you Leah, K, for your kind words and for taking the time to share your thoughts!), and I had a guest all but beg me to come back to blogging (not really sure what I could've been saying that'd warrant that, but it was nice to know I was missed). These encounters made me realize that I'm ready to be "real" on the Internet yet again.

So where have I been? I've been riding through what has turned out to be my 13-year old daughter's last year at home. You see, Miss C is heading off to boarding school next year for her freshman year (or 3 as she'll be known at her high school).

You don't often think of going through the "empty-nest" thing at 13, but here we are. Miss C had an amazing year visiting schools, taking her SSATs, getting into schools, and choosing the one that was most C-like. She's in heaven. And I'm in heaven for having chosen to drop out of everything non-essential (even the things that I thought were essential, like musical performance) and having spent the year with her - mostly doing "nothing" together. Heaven, indeed.

She "graduated" from The Jefferson School a couple weeks back and is spending this week at her other home in Brooklyn, so I have a bit of elbow room to get back into the groove of writing to you. So much has happened and is going to be happening - so much fun, so much good. We're blessed, and I'm looking forward to sharing it all with you.

Commencing (with Miss C)  - Jenny

P.S. And in honor of Miss C's grin at her photo-snapping mama and just 'cause we can't help but share some of the tunes that we love to play at the shop (and I've been playing the heck outta his album), here's some tunage via Mr. Rawls . . .

Happy, Happy Birthday, Nellie!

Dear Reader -  Today is Nellie's first birthday!

It's hard to believe that she's only been with us for these few, short months - she feels so much a part of our lives here at biblion and Casa J&C.

We're celebrating the day with a little "sale" in her honor - giving an extra 5% off to anyone who spends $21 or more!

Here's the first picture I ever saw of Nellie (she was Penelope then - safe in the arms of her breeder, Candice Kane):

Her eyes turned out to be just as compelling in person, if not more so - and, as you may remember, it was her eyes that brought her to us, as mentioned in my first mention of her back in June (what kind of insanity makes a newly-minted retailer decide to get a puppy just before the resort summer hits, and then to save that darn kitten to boot? - ah well! - Nellie and Spot have become the best of friends, wreaking havoc on our household [and especially the other cats {yes, I'm in danger of being dubbed a crazy cat lady, gone beyond my two-cat minimum - I've decided that because Miss C and Nellie are part of the equation, we haven't tipped the scales, yet}]).

She has turned out to be an awesomely awesome shop dog, save for her tendency to bark (okay, she yaps, it's embarrassing really; we try to tell her that nobody likes a yappy dog - that it's simply unattractive - to no avail) at other dogs. Here's a shot that I took of her with my iPhone to share with one of my card reps the other day. She spends most of the day sleeping under my desk, coming out to greet the guests who want to be greeted:

So, stop by if you can and join us in wishing Nellie a happy, yappy birthday!

Celebratorily yours  - Jenny