Seen Any Mythological Creatures Lately...Grab a Camera!



Painting by Phil Sandusky

Working in the book shop often provides the funniest and most bizarre situations.  I've often said we could film a sitcom here...people would be constantly entertained.



Telephone Customer:  (After she asked about books in which the titles escaped her.)  How come there are so many festivals in this city? 

Me:  People that live here like to eat good food and listen to music.  They give the tourists a taste of New Orleans, and they help support local businesses.

Telephone Customer:  Don't they know they're creating a taxi shortage!  I don't know if you know there's a taxi shortage in in this city.

My Thoughts: I prefer that people drinking alcohol at the festivals ride home in a taxi and not be on the road when I am.

 

Pre-Hurricane Katrina he book shop phone number was very similar to the Winn Dixie Grocery Store.  Several times a day we'd get phone calls similar to this:

Me: Garden District Book Shop

 

Telephone Customer: (Shouts) Give me the meat department!

 

Me: Sir, this is a book shop.

 

Telephone Customer: This is Winn Dixie's number, give me the meat department!

 

Me: Sorry sir, this is still a book shop.

 

My Thoughts:  It's was always a male...sorry guys.

 

 

There is a Garden District Tour that leaves from the book shop twice a day, every day.  (For those of you unfamiliar with New Orleans, the Garden District is a very well-to-do neighborhood with incredible architecture.  Anne Rice, Sandra Bullock, John Goodman, Archie Manning, Nicholas Cage have all owned or currently own houses in this neighborhood.)



 

Customer: I'd like to buy tickets to the Garden District Tour?

 

Me:  There are no tickets, you just pay the Tour Guide.  You meet them in the back corner of the book shop (I pointed directly where they need to go.) five minutes before the tour begins.

 

Here are a few alternate endings to this conversation:

 

Customer:  Where's the book shop?  (This is after they walked under our sign and are standing among hundreds of books.)

 

Alternate Ending:

 

Customer:  Do I have to go outside to get there?

 

Alternate Ending:

 

Customer: So I wait outside?

 

My Thoughts:  I generally give tour instructions slowly to try to get them to listen...they never do.

 

 

 

 

Every Tuesday afternoon for about a month, a guy called and asked us to look up various sex books.  He never ordered anything.

My Thoughts:  I don't want to know what was going on at the other end of the phone...

 

 

 

Telephone Customer: I placed a special order and I'd like to check whether it has come in. She indicated that she placed an order for a Pocket Guide to Thailand and under the name D-W-E-E-B. (She spelled the name and never pronounced it.)  The employee searched for the order and could find nothing listed with that name. I began to help her search and searched the special order database for anything with Thailand in the title. A special order was displayed that had been placed two days before, on a Saturday. The special order was under a totally different name, Blaster.

Book Shop Employee: Excuse me, but this order is under a different name, B-L-A-S-T-E-R.

 

Telephone Customer: …oh yes, that’s one of my names.

 

My Thoughts:  And we would know you have multiple bizarre names, how?  Let alone that the order was placed on a Saturday and it was the following Monday.   There does need to be a business day in the mix to actually have UPS delivery. 

 

 

The New Orleans Saints are played in the Superbowl, 2010:

Co-Worker: I have absolutely loved explaining to customers today that the reason the streetcar isn't running is because there is a parade of men wearing dresses to honor a deceased sportscaster.

I told him I’d be willing to work, so I could tell them.

  

The sportscaster, Buddy D passed the previous year. Buddy always said if the Saints went to the Superbowl, he’d wear a dress. He even had one hanging in his office for that sole purpose.
 

 We had a customer who could not read James Patterson hard covers, as the paper and ink made her hands itch   Seriously...



 

Telephone Customer:  I would like you to get me a signed copy of Kate Chopin's Awakening and I'd like her to sign it to my father.

 

Me: Kate Chopin is dead...  Died in 1904.

 

Telephone Customer: Handle it and then send it to my father. 

 

 



 

This is far too funny not to share...  My boss' name is Britton Trice.  Everyday when we receive the mail or take telephone calls -  his name is butchered in every imaginable way:  Tritton Brice, Brighton Rice to name a few.  But a few years ago he received a check in the mail from someone local, who's known him for years and the check was made out to "Bitten Twice." 

 

This is hysterical on so many levels...our shop is where Anne Rice used to sign books when she lived in New Orleans and then the whole New Orleans Vampire scene.  We have given serious thought to getting him a tshirt with this on it. 

 

Meanwhile the local check writer is swearing off spell check.

 



 

And one of my favorites:

Me: Garden District Book Shop

Telephone Customer: I'd like a photograph book of mythological creatures?


My Thoughts:  Hmmm...they're mythological!

Pardon Me, I Didn't Hear You

I lost the hearing in my left ear at 19. This resulted from the antibiotics given to me for bacterial meningitis, and that story is a whole other blog.

My discovery occurred, the day I came home from the hospital (for the first time) when trying to make a phone call with the phone to my left ear. I insisted the the telephone was broken. It was a very rude awakening.

But, today I want to write about the interesting things I've learned since losing my hearing.

• Never answer yes to anything you don't hear. At 19, you are young and silly, seriously, and you do many bizarre things when you can't hear with both ears. I cannot tell you how many times I did this before the realization sunk in that this was not a good idea. But after many lewd proposals, I stopped.
  • Don't be embarrassed to tell people you cannot hear them. Make a joke of this...if people are rude, they're either really uncomfortable about your hearing lose or not really your friends.
   
  

  
  
• It's impossible to ride a bike with someone riding next to you or with cars passing close to you. You'll fall over, you have NO balance. If someone comes up behind you and shouts that they are there, you'll have no idea exactly where that might be. I had huge mirrors on my bike and only rode early in the morning, but it became so stressful making sure I wasn't cutting someone off or pulling into traffic - I sold my bike.
  • Walking is wonderfully enjoyable.
  
  

  
  
• In a group situation always sit at the end of the table facing everyone (preferably with your back against a wall, so the sound bounces off the wall), you can then see when someone is speaking and focus on them.
  • Most of my friends know that this is not something I enjoy. So large group restaurant/bar events are kept at a minimum.
   
  

  
  
• You cannot go to loud enclosed concerts, as you are at risk of losing the remainder of your hearing.
  • But New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival, French Quarter Fest, Wednesday's at the Square, Second Lines, and much more - the plethora of outdoor music in New Orleans is fabulous and beyond compare. If you go to a bar to listen to music, sit as far as possible from speaker, preferably near the door.
  
  
• You never know which direction a siren is coming from.
  • Use your eyes instead of your ears.
  
  

  
  
• When you're tired you walk too close to walls on your deaf side.
  
  • Bruises heal.
    

• Reading lips is exhausting. 90% of lipreading is body language and context. A lot of words look similar (e.g. pig/big, hand/sand/stand, black/bland/blunt, cat/can). Men are harder to lipread than woman, because most men use little body language and minimal lip movement. If the man has a mustache, it's near impossible - especially a bushy mustache. You notice EVERYONE's teeth.
  • Know that when you go off to a corner searching for quiet...it's time to leave.
  
  

  
  
• Loud noises and commotion will make you insane.
  • Know this and try to get out of these situations.
  
  
  
• Be prepared for lack of understanding and (unfortunately) sometimes, stupidity:
   





 


 
• People talking with no sound coming out (in my experience it's always men).
• People pretending to do sign language.
• People covering their mouths when they realize you're reading their lips or alternately covering their mouths and speaking.
• Whispering in the deaf ear.
My niece, Jillian, used to tell me secrets...they were always in my deaf ear.  I'd laugh and tell her they were secret from everyone.  So I had my deaf ear double-pierced, then Jillian would come to tell me a secret and she would see two earrings and know there was no hearing.  Then she'd come around to my other ear.
• Standing behind shelves or in another room and calling you (when you're deaf in one ear you have no sense of direction.)  Unless you can see the person, you have no idea where they are located.

• Loud throbbing bass in cars to the front, back, or side of you will make you dizzy.  Don't know the science of this...but it's happened to me many times.  Roll your windows up and plug your good ear, and move away when you can.

• Surround sound and headphones are useless...you only hear in mono.

But ultimately, there are many things that have occurred because of my deafness that outweigh the fact that I cannot hear correctly.

My other senses are sharper:

• Colors are brighter

• Music is sweeter

Lucia Micarelli (aka. Annie T) and John Boutte

• Smiling faces are amazingly beautiful

 

• Laughter is musically wonderful

This will make you happy for the rest of the day...bet you watch it multiple times!

• Clouds are stunning

• Sign Language is understanding in motion.

• Beauty surrounds you, daily.  Don't miss it...

It's a Sin to Kill a Mockingbird!

Today the universe is telling me I need to blog on To Kill A Mockingbird...

Last week I sent my great-niece a hardcover of the book To Kill a Mockingbird, for her 14th birthday.  This morning just after I realized the movie was on, my great-niece sent me an email message thanking me for the for book and elucidating that she has always wanted to read it.  I told her this is one of my favorite books and weirdly the movie based on the book is on television right now.

So I just watched the movie, To Kill a Mockingbird...yet again.  And I am always blown away when I see Boo Radley.  I know he's going to be there, but I'm always surprised to see him.  My memory is good that way, allowing me to see things as if it were the first time. 



So today has been a wonder of reading online, all things To Kill a Mockingbird.  This book has so many amazing thoughts embedded inside, it's like a treasure trove.  I find it hard to believe that it was intentional on Harper Lee's part...I'm of the feeling that she was just telling an incredible heartrending story and magic happened.   Pulitzer prize-winning magic.  Banned 17 times, as recently as 2009.  While there are things that happen in this book that are unacceptable, is was set in Alabama in 1960 and is true to what was happening in society at that time.  AND IT'S FICTION, PEOPLE!

To me the main themes of the book involve racial injustice and the destruction of innocence.   The mockingbird represents true goodness and innocence that should always be protected.  In this book, Boo Radley and Tom Robinson are both "mockingbirds."

So maybe my point is this...there are mockingbirds in all our lives,  and we need to protect and celebrate the fact that this goodness and innocence still exists. 

I believe that people are generally good at heart.  Some just lose their way and need to recall their direction.  So there is still hope for us all.

 

As Atticus was wont to say, "It's not time to worry yet."


So go gently in this life, making sure to listen to the Mockingbird's song...

Miss Manners and the Missing Manners

Sunday I was aggravated...common courtesy and manners have flown out the window with people recently. Rudeness assaults you at every turn.
 

Don't let me get started about the group of people (who've had noise issues in their apartments) who partied 24 hours a day for 3 days outside my apartment during Hurricane Isaac. Who then told me, I was rude when I asked them if they could please take the party to their apartment (as it was after 10PM) so I could get some sleep.

 

Sunday morning, someone who borrowed something from me, pounded on my door before 9AM. Then while standing less than ten inches from my door, lit a cigarette (I do not smoke and NEVER have). I could barely open the door.  She never spoke or looked at me, but flung the borrowed item sideways to me, then walked away. I was so astonished I said, “Thank you.” Which was ridiculous, since she borrowed it from me.

Shortly thereafter, my neighbor had her music turned up so loud I could barely concentrate on what I was typing? I have no idea how she could be in her apartment with it so loud, I wanted to flee mine.

Daily, people come into the book shop and do business while on their cell phones. Sorry people, but nobody is that important. That you should be so rude as to totally ignore the person who is helping you, speaks volumes on your character, and makes me know that I do not want you in my personal life.

Oh, and they walk around the book shop and the atrium outside the shop carrying on their conversation so loudly, that I know they're getting a divorce and what the *sshole spouse is trying to do to screw them or the fact that they're meeting someone at the Starbuck's on Harrison Avenue at noon. Seriously people, take your conversation to your car or home...we don't need or care to hear it.

 



 

And I was never taught that shouting "Travel" or "Bestsellers" or any single word is sufficient when asking for something? In the real world, "Could you please tell me where the travel section is located?", would be a question that might be asked.

For those of you who text and answer your phone while you're having dinner, lunch, drinks or just visiting with a friend, your manners are lacking as well. (Unless it's a medical or child/sibling/parent related emergency...your phone should not even be visible.) Be where you are at, while you are there.

Say please, and thank you. Smile and treat people they way you wish to be treated. Revisit your childhood and use the manners you where taught as a child. And if you were never taught any manners, shame on your parents. But it's never to late to learn, please.

 

Sweet Home, New Orleans

HOME: the place in which one's domestic affections are centered.

I'm sure at some point in everyone's life a significant other has broached the subject of having “the conversation.” It can be a conversation about just about anything, but when you hear, “We need to talk” - you know it's going to be a tough conversation.

Our conversation was to take place while Rich, my long distance boyfriend was home from Seattle for Christmas. But Rich's conversation was foiled when a very dear friend of mine, Joey Bonhage, became very ill prior to Rich returning home. My holiday was spent in the hospital, culminating with my dear friend passing on Christmas day and me doing a second line in my kitchen to “I'll Fly Away.” Needless to say, when Rich got on the plane to Seattle he tagged me with, “You need to think about moving to Seattle.” When we finally had “the conversation,” I told him, bottom line, “I do not need to move to Seattle, since New Orleans is my home and will be for the rest of my life.”

I then reminded him of ALL our previous conversations...I grew up moving from place to place due to lack of money and then due to a father with relationship issues with not only his children, but his many wives. I have moved roughly 33 times in my life...and when I moved to New Orleans, I knew this was home.

Rich, however, is a serial mover - Detroit to San Jose, to New Orleans, to New York , back to New Orleans for six months, to Los Angeles, to San Francisco, to San Jose, to Seattle - 9 times in 15 or so years. He'll dump everything he owns (except clothes and computer) and leave. He doesn't like to be “known” in his place of residence? Therefore, no place is home. But for me nothing makes me happier than running into friends, customers and acquaintances at any given moment. It's the most happy and lovely experience to see the smiling face of someone you know.

When I moved here - my entire family thought I was crazy. I had been working in the high tech industry in Michigan and California for over 20 years. I was leaving a $70,000 a year job to move to a city I had visited once on vacation...to become a bookseller and to write. I sent my resume' to every book store in the city, every one giving me the same comment...”You're really over qualified.” I knew this, but working in a book store was a dream I've had since I was 8-years-old. And I could no longer fathom driving over an hour to work on a two-lane curved mountain highway bumper-to-bumper at 70 miles-per- hour, for remainder of my life, doing a job that seemed meaningless. Ultimately I was hired by, I think, the best book store in the city, Garden District Book Shop. My family didn't think I'd be able to live on the money I was making, and quite honestly, it has been a struggle.

But, nowhere I've ever been celebrates life and community like New Orleans. Nowhere have I met people, that no matter their circumstances will do whatever they can to help you. There are more musicians, artists, chefs, and writers that call this city home, than is imaginable. I read once: “Stay away from stingy people, they have small souls.” With New Orleanians, there's not a small soul among them. For instance, my friend, Lucy – a lovely woman who could be my mother, became my friend in the usual way – in my line of work. I'm a bookseller and she, my customer. Over the many years that I've known her she took notice that I loved vintage jewelry and clothing. One day she invited me to visit, she told me she had some vintage clothing her aunt had made in New York in the 40s. Lucy thought they might fit me. So I spent some time visiting and then she brought out a couple stunning pieces of clothing and presented them to me. One of them being a black wool crepe sequined jacket with scalloped sleeves and front. The sequins are so intricate and beautiful it looks as if the flowers are painted on the jacket. Various colors of rose, pink, taupe, and green are gently sewn to the front and sleeves of the jacket, making it look as if a garden was gently laid upon your shoulder. When I think of the jacket I smile. When I wear the jacket, Lucy's face and incredible thoughtfulness are never far from my thoughts.

With never a lack of things to do, you can live here and be happy at home, but just in case there are: farmers markets, the Saints, art festivals, art markets, galleries, numerous literary events, innumerable book fairs, jazz funerals, second lines, Mardi Gras, Jazz Fest, and many more music festivals, etc. I know that I've left out many events ...that could easily be an essay in itself. But, you name it and we celebrate it, and with more heart and soul than any place I've ever been.

And apparently I'm not completely off my rocker in making this my home and my muse...this is evidenced by the incredible amount of people I've met - that after volunteering in the city after Hurricane Katrina, packed up and moved here. Changing their lives immeasurably for the good in ways people living elsewhere could never imagine.

New Orleans is my muse. The food is my sustenance. I have experienced great authors, great people, great book shop, a great community. I dream of galleries covered in kudzu and I see this dream daily. I imagine trumpets and trombones playing music that lifts the soul and walk down the street or go to the park to hear this with my own ears. I write stories of people dancing down the street and jump outside at the sound of music to dance along with them in a second line. To celebrate life while, being my unadulterated self, is I believe the purpose of life.

New Orleans is not just a city, it's a community of wonderful people who will do whatever it takes to support their community and one another. So the people you see on the streetcar, driving down the road, walking their dogs, jogging in the neutral ground are not just people that live here, they are more than that – they're family. For instance, Claudia and Jim – family that invites you into their home for Thanksgiving and Sue – family that invites you over for Christmas dinner. And yet another that invites you to share their table at brunch. Sunday, I walked down St. Charles and decided I'd treat myself to brunch at the Columns Hotel on their wonderful porch. I asked the Maitre d' if I needed a reservation and his answer was, “You look like an angel, you would never need a reservation.” He asked if I was alone, and I said, “yes.” Immediately the three people at the table near us said, “Oh join us!” So I did! A beautiful golden-haired woman, name Kaylee and two handsome gentleman, Scott and Adam – offshore divers, all three and relatively new to the city. I spent a lovely morning with them at brunch and then wine tasting until early afternoon.

So yes, I've become a crazy cat lady of New Orleans and this is where I want to be. If my soul ever starts shrinking and I stop smiling at everyone I meet, I want the ghost of Mardi Gras past to smite me in my bed.

Be Your Own Trophy...

In mid July, my friend Winter posted the following comment on FaceBook and it has been stuck in my head since.


"...thinks it's sad that there are some women who would rather be somebody else's trophy than their own."

My comment to this was that this was seriously sad, but that being your own trophy can be very lonely.

Especially in this city that I love, New Orleans. Most of the available men are just looking for a one night stand and the thought of actually having a woman as a friend is absurd to them. Let alone a woman who has a mind of her own, that's totally frightening to them.

I once asked a lovely man who came into the bookshop regularly to see me, if we could have coffee next time he was in the area. Sadly, I have not heard from him or seen him since. Apparently in "man language" having coffee means having his children...

I have pondered why believing in yourself frightens people, and this what I came up with:

• Most people need to be in control of everything



• Most people believe they are right about everything

Well, "Most People" I'm here to tell you to get over yourself. I took a class many years ago and it taught me two important things:

1. The only person or thing you have control of is yourself.


2. The power of the 3. In life, you only have 3 options for everything that happens: you can accept it, change it, or leave it.
   

Notice that "control everything" is not listed. Since the only person or thing you do control - is yourself, the change option is changing something in yourself. Nobody knows everything, that would be far too exhausting. But 3 options for everthing, how simple is that.

You can apply them to everything...believe me I've tried. If you stick to this, life is pretty good. Of course sometimes your memory fades and you forget the power of 3, but you'll be back. This is part of being your own trophy, showing people that you don't fall apart at adversity. You use the one thing you can control (yourself) to resolve your issues.

Who knows what may happen from day to day. But I will always be happy knowing I control my life, I am in charge of how I act in a relationship or not, and I will not stifle my beliefs and ideas for anyone. And I will treat people as I want to be treated.

Most importantly, I will always be My Own Trophy!

Singing to the Furkids

Yesterday a friend posted a sweet video on FaceBook of a man singing a pile of puppies to sleep. I commented on it that I've always sung to my cats, especially when it time to go to sleep or go to the vet. I guess this truly makes me the crazy cat lady. Or, does this exemplify the sweetness of life. Where nothing is more important at that moment, than having a sweet loving connection with with a being who is part of your family.

There are the people in the camp that would argue that these are just animals...these people don't have pets and never have. These people don't understand how someone could spend hundreds, maybe thousands of dollars on vet bills for an animal... So sad.

But to us, the animal lovers – these beings are our children, our family. Or as my niece is wont to say, our furkids. These furkids are there for us no matter what may happen in our day, with love and caring.

It's funny, even I can get short with my cats, when they meow at me constantly. But when it comes right down to it - they are telling me, “Get over here, you need to get some attention and relax.” It's not the opposite as most people think, that they want attention. They know when you need to take your mind off something and they're providing this outlet.

My cats hate the car, when they get in the car they know they're going to the vet and they talk and yowl until you think you'll go mad. So I sing to them and they're quiet. But when I evacuated for Hurricane Katrina, they went in their cages and never made a sound in the car. They knew that we had to go and they were okay with that fact.

I was the crazy cat lady, with four great kitties...Hissy, Maurie, Gino, and Smudge'. These cats were my family since 1998. From the same litter, siblings. Born of the parents, crazy Celeste and raucous Clancy, two strays that I fed regularly. The kittens were born under the house I lived in on Jefferson Avenue, right before Hurricane Georges.

Then last July the ex...made the permanent move to Seattle and took two. The female, Smudge', was a daddy's girl, no surprise...she really had no use for me. But not wanting her to be alone, Gino went with her. It is heart breaking, since the three boys were like the three amigos, the three musketeers... They always slept in a big pile. My pile o' kitties.

Smudge', the lone girl was almost always on her own. If anyone was with her, it was Gino. We called them the bookends, their coloring is so similar. I miss Gino and the other two boys do as well. The first night Gino was gone, Hissy and Maurie were up ALL night, searching the place and meowing constantly. They look less and less as days go by. I didn't say his name in front of them for a few months. I still don't really say his name aloud, it just makes me sad.

Still singing though...