Steam heat and American Stick Insects

     So much for that twofer post ... is that really a week ago? Gee, time flies.

     No, I didn't get trapped under a pile of falling stuff last Friday. Literally, anyway. Figuratively? I always get trapped under a pile of falling stuff. I'm not quite sure how my attention always seems to get diverted by something else (my Disney fan friends are now shouting "squirrel!" in unison, I think), but I am prone to being easily sidetracked.

     So, let's see. What's been going on at Chez T since last I checked in?

     Our traditional family yard sale has been postponed — it was scheduled for tomorrow morning — because it's going to be ridiculously, disgustingly hot and humid. As The Lovely Cousin Jody explained it, it was for the best to postpone because: A, we didn't think it wise to make some of our older family members have to come out in the heat; and, B, the thought of haggling with the masses while overheated and drenched with sweat might lead to some, shall we say, unwelcome fits of temper ... or perhaps spontaneous combustion.

     The part of me that enjoys hanging out with some of my favorite family members is disappointed, but the part of me that enjoys air conditioning is quite pleased.

     And anyway, we'll still be having it, just on a (hopefully cooler) Saturday to be named later.

     Hmm, what else?

     In the ongoing gym-based serial "Tales of Brave Supportive Partner Man (he picks things up and puts them down!)," SPM has been chugging right along. He made his first visit to a support group last night, and his friendly neighborhood exercise physiologists, Ryan and Cory, apparently are happy with his progress in the gym. They have increased his weights and time on the cardio equipment. He's been coming home drenched and achy, but rightfully feeling quite good about himself. 

     As an extra bonus, he even went to the regular gym today for the first time in about two years. Although I am but the B-plot in this story — I'm shooting to earn an Emmy award for comic relief — I am happy to say that I got out of bed and accompanied him. I tried a different program on the elliptical today, which was going quite well until the machine told me to pedal backwards. I managed to do it without falling on my head, so, score. Lasted nearly five minutes going that way, too. But my quads are killing me.   

     The interesting part of going to the gym is the other people. There are a few who are built like we are, but most of them fall into three categories: fit, fitter and American Stick Insect. The last of which I remain intimidated by. There was one woman on the step machine today with eye-popping washboard abs and what looked to be 0.17 percent body fat. I know this because she was ruthlessly owning the machine while wearing only her spandex shorts and her sports bra. Seriously, you could liposuction me to within an inch of my life, then lock me in the gym for a month with only granola, water and the arc trainer to sustain me and I doubt I could be that thin. I know there are many of these people who are very nice. However, I've had issues with a few who have given me the stinkeye as I've loaded my tubby butt onto the elliptical, hinting that I had no right to be breathing their air.

     Makes me want to force-feed them a donut or six.

     SPM says he refuses to be intimidated by these people any longer, and he's going to go to the gym whether he feels wanted or not. He's just reported he's lost another belt notch, so I guess he's the one with the most correct outlook. 

It's easy being green ... and pink ... and variegated ...

     Took a little road trip on Friday morning.

     I saddled up Mario the SuperHonda, picked up The Lovely Cousin Jody and set sail for the wilds of Oley, wherein lies a gardener's paradise: Glick's Greenhouse.

A sea of pansies

     A former co-worker clued me in to this leafy jewel in 2001, and I've been hooked ever since. Sure, it's out of the way, tucked quietly into the Berks County countryside, surrounded by fields and creeks and farm animals, but the scenery alone is worth the trip.
     I moved to Lancaster County — itself a heavyweight provider of  picturesque, bucolic landscapes and an abundance of farm stands — five years ago, but my love of Glick's endures. And because circumstances prevented me from visiting last season, I was even more excited to go Friday. 

     My flower beds have been fairly naked since the demise of my spring perennials, waiting for me to indulge in some dirt therapy and just plant something already. But Friday was the day I'd been waiting for — the first day of the annual half-price sale. The prices at Glick's already are very reasonable compared to many of the other flower powers in the Berks and Lancaster area, but the annual "customer appreciation" sale makes my inner tightwad want to break out and dance.
     I left the premises with what amounted to three flats of flowers and veggie plants for less than $30.

Impatient for impantiens

     I got impatiens and geraniums, lobelia and zinnia, tomatoes and cukes ... the list goes on. We wandered in and out of the various greenhouses for about an hour and a half, sizing up all the possibilities.
     I usually look for my old favorites ("They still have 'Mr. Stripey' tomatoes? Score!"), and pore over new items, all the while trying to imagine how I'll configure everything while planting. I generally have a blueprint of what goes where in my little yard — impatiens around the mini pine tree next to the front door, geraniums in my hanging baskets (which invariably turn into the birdie maternity ward) — but colors vary, as do my filler plants.
     It's all a very intricate operation.
     Meanwhile, my trusty sidekick was bowled over. She's recently moved back home after many, many moons on Long Island, and somehow had never been to the Big G before.

     As she shook her head, bemoaning having gone to Lowe's first this season, I got the feeling that this would take a regular spot in her vegetation rotation. And as we left, she was already plotting next year's plan of attack, which shall be two-pronged.

     I agreed wholeheartedly, because, although I left loaded down with green goodness and very pleased, I struck out on my two favorite plants (mini snapdragons and Barock/Contessa Deep Red ivy geraniums), which were sold out.
     Oh well. Live and learn. And plan to make a first trip earlier in May next year.

Our final haul for the day

Gallons of geraniums

A reader's gold mine

I'm coming off one of my favorite occasional indulgences.
At this point, if you know me, you're probably wondering where the "food porn" is. ... Yes, I do love a good meal, and frequently tweet or FB photos of my gustatorial conquests. I am not yet as over the top about it as one of our beloved Geek princes, Neil Patrick Harris, who has created a whole separate Twitter feed for his food ravings, but I do tend to crow about really fab eats.
Just not today.
Today is for books. (Well, in reality, Monday and Tuesday of this week were for books ... I simply haven't had a chance to write about it until now.)
Our local Lancaster Public Library system has just concluded its yearly gargantuan used book sale, and I -- and Supportive Partner Man (hefter of filled book bags!), and The Lovely Cousin Jody, for that matter -- am replete with new-to-me tomes.
We came, we saw, we shopped. And did the Granny Alesi Bargain Dance in celebration.
So, how big is this sale? Well, for three days each May, it takes over the Franklin & Marshall Alumni Center gym, which is not tiny. The morning of Day One, SPM and I went over after a doctor's appointment and were turned away from the overflowing parking lot. We ran a few other errands, then  went back and won the parking lottery. Once inside, it was like Woodstock for book fiends, wall-to-wall people jostling for position to pick through long tables jammed full of books, records (remember those?) or videos. The checkout line ran the width of the gym floor, took a left and ran about a third of the length. There were people buying four or five books, and many others loaded down with handtrucks or pushcarts.

And this is only part of the field of battle.

 As I was hovering over a sci-fi table, I texted Jody a photo of the mayhem. The next thing I knew, my cell was ringing, and she was giving me a list of five Patricia Cornwell books to look for in hardcover. We found four of them in the space of about 10 minutes, then realized we should brave the checkout line if we wanted to make it to our respective jobs on time.
I would have much rather stayed at the sale, but practicality won the day ... and I knew I was coming back the next morning.
Day Two was a lot more relaxed. The huge crowds were gone, and there weren't as many handtrucks. Joined by Jody and her husband John, SPM and I settled in for a more considered look at the tables, not to mention the patrons.
People go about their browsing in different ways that I find highly entertaining. I myself have a certain pattern. As with reading a book, I find I can only peruse the tables from left to right. If I go in the opposite direction, I actually get dizzy. I also like to touch the books as I wander -- usually I skim lightly over the spines with two or three fingertips. The books talk to me better that way, I think.

Careful which way you're perusing.

Some drag the whole hand, and one older gentleman thumped the books with his palm every other step.
Some pull out a book and skim the back cover before deciding to take a chance on it, others hunker down and read for several minutes before choosing.
As all this is going on, volunteers are milling about, straightening piles and digging new books out of the reserve boxes under the tables to refresh the inventory. You never know what title will emerge next.
All told, the second day of the sale, SPM and I departed with two giant bags of books, and parted with $35 to do so. To put that in perspective, we found two very nice oversized Disney art books in the piles, and left with both. One of them bore a retail price of $35.
I'd say we got our money's worth.
The next challenge is on the home front. I need to cull the herd, and weed out the books I'm through with. Those likely will be donated back to the library, so the cycle can start all over again.
And as an extra added bonus this summer, I'm planning on visiting, for the first time in many years, the book event that started it all for me. I've not been to the Berks County library system's "Book Bonanza" in many years, primarily because I really did not care for the site it had been held at. When I was a kid, it used to be held in the Berkshire Mall, but after it moved to the Leesport Farmers' Market, the lack of air conditioning in July became an issue for me. This year, it's going to be held at Wyomissing's Vanity Fair outlet store on July 13-15, and I'm all for giving it another whirl.
I think between now and then I have enough time to pull together a comprehensive list of my own...

A well-worn mystery from the late 1940s
 that looks like it belongs on my
buddy Chris Otto's "Papergreat" blog. 

A bit of Disney goodness from 1975.