Hung out today with Edie-who-sells-books. She keeps a list of my interests and favorite authors and has a cubby for me where she stashes things she thinks I would like. My erotica collection, which I kind of started by accident but which has continued to grow, got two additions including a book of short stories about passion among married people. (And her not having to put erotica on the shelves is probably good.)
Her used bookstore actually has a sign on the wall that says "Hey y'all, got any erotica or trout fishing books?" And credits me with the quote because I called that out one day several years ago as I walked in and Edie thought it was cool, so she put it on a sign on the wall.
It's just that sort of place.
Today she asked if I were interested in 300 playboy magazines from the 1970's on for a buck apiece. Umm... No. Books of dirty short stories are a collection. Old magazines are just junk. (Yes, someone with lots of money could probably make a profit on Ebay with those. If you'd like to take them off Edie's hands and do so, shoot me an email on my chalicechick at gmail account and I'll give you her number.)
Edie is an affable hippie whose political views decorate her store in the form of bumperstickers on the bookcases. Old guy conservatives come in to by civil war histories and comic books and end up hitting on her anyway though because she's really quite lovely. She has a voice very much like Madeline Kahn and in a casual conversation once mentioned that she sleeps naked, a fact I relayed to the CSO the next time he was having a bad day.
"If all hippies were like Edie," the CSO just said "I'd be OK with hippies."
I am Edie's favorite stringer and she will buy books from me on my reccomendation. I will sometimes go to sales and buy books for her and I have a running list of authors she's looking for on my blackberry at all times. I fight dirty at booksales. I wear a tanktop and a pushup bra because one time distracting the guy across the box of books from me for one second was all it took for me to score a particularly nice copy of The Anatomy of Melancholy.
Recently, I've decided I need a complete set of first editions of the Horatio Hornblower novels for life to be complete.
Guess I'll just have to hang out with Edie even more.
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