Friday, October 21, 2005|
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will remember the camera. The little pink paycheck is in the bank, taking a breather before dashing out again. We moved a truckload of stuff and bought more hardware-store paint. ("I'm sorry. We don't have the ingredient we need to make an eggshell surface. Won't satin do?") I ended up with flat acrylic latex in the only blue they offered, and even with a powder of insulating ceramic beads stirred in it still sloshed on like water. Something I never knew: cheap paint slumps. The experts tell you to get a rollerful and put it on heavy, but even when you roll it out thinly, after a minute or two you notice that all the paint is sagging. Tomorrow when I go in again I expect to find a long blue heap fallen down around the wall's ankles like a bad pair of nylons. Benjamin Moore. I can't recommend it highly enough. I just wish the nearest shop weren't 240 miles away. Anyway—bloody-minded, as Dick Jones says—we persevered and now have a solid blue wall, and tomorrow it will get a second coat. We repaired and set up more shelves. I bought a fuzzy thing with a handle for applying stain—really a wash—over most of the shelf surfaces, if I think there's time (remember—I still have to inspect and price every book that goes out for sale before opening day). I'll either make milk paint and thin it, or thin something I have at hand. At the post office we retrieved a disappointing shipment of 31 very shabby used Spanish books (how do those eBay guys make everything in the photos look crisp and clean??), but one among them was a find—Adelle Davis's Let's Get Well (I don't have it here or I would use its Spanish-language title). I wirebrushed briefly the badly cracked and flaking exterior paint around the door and windows. I'll have to find a hose faucet on the building somewhere so I can wash the outside of the storefront prior to painting it, an activity I think best reserved for early the next two Sunday mornings. I found a typeface I like for the window lettering and have blown it up to make stencils. These are the elements I have so far for the front door; "BOOKS" will go in each big window:
I'll have to think through a stencil-cutting strategy for the snake'n'egg logo, though.
MANY THANKS to all today's commentors for their outpourings of support, as well to the several who have shipped me used books (!). I consider this a group effort: I couldn't do it without you. It's our bookstore (until, you know, it starts turning a profit...). Please look in on PJ-in-L.A.'s blog Events from the Picklejar when you have a chance. She's sublet a feral page to get her feet wet. I love the way she writes about cats. 7:55:01 PM  comment [] trackback []
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 When the bank account bit the dust on Tuesday so did we, and we kept on going, burrowing in for the duration. We may not drive out again until payday. My ability to plan based on my shaky grasp of arithmetic—never my strong suit—is totally out the window in our present circumstances, given the current cost of fuel and the need to transport ourselves and our shelves and books and implements of construction across great empty distances as we travel from home to town to mailbox in another town and home again. I'm doing everything possible to find a house in Alturas (the town where the store is), and soon I'll close the P.O. box in Davis Creek, and then gasoline won't be a consideration. Meanwhile, it occurred to me in the night that today is the 21st of October and November 2 is, what, ten or eleven days off. I lost my ability to sleep. I've had to pull Brian from the program for two weeks, both because I can't take him there every day and because I can't do this alone. Having my brother-partner-assistant-aide there every day (I'd originally asked he enter Nov. 1, but they sort of insisted on October, and I caved) meant I had to wait for weekends to move stuff, which meant extra trips, which meant extra fuel, and around and around. Hence, the hunkering. Today the truck is full up with stuff and waiting. I'll call Erika down at the post office to see whether my paycheck came in. If so, we'll light out. If not, we'll light out anyway. I have a smidge of gas in the lawnmower can that may give us another round trip. I have to reach a post office to mail books that people have bought from me online, and Brian's thyroid prescription has run out, so one way or the other we're out of here. The issue of time: I'm not sure shelf-painting will happen. I'll have to do my own window lettering because the person I'd hired for it came up with a sort of lame proposal and then went on vacation out of town for two weeks, but I have a good idea about how I can make it look very professional myself. I still have to buy paint for the toothpaste wall, and more paint for the exterior. Repair the sale shelf and buy and install good casters so I can wheel it in and out the door every day. And because the gentleman who offered the excellent free carpeting also has gone on vacation for two weeks, I'll have to buy carpet for the back room after all. Oy Oy Oy The important thing is to keep moving and not think too much. That way the momentum itself can make everything happen.
Blessings to all. Photos to follow. |
Last update: 11/2/05; 1:03:31 AM .
