A Great Sigh of Contentment

Every once in a while, it's a good idea to celebrate cold, rainy days. This morning, I was out of the house by 7:30 and jaunting over the Connecticut River to participate in one of my favorite annual rituals, volunteering at the Five Colleges Book Sale.

We moved to the Upper Valley in the late summer of 1986 and the following spring, I saw something in the local paper (which I was working for by that time) about this incredible sale. We're talking heroin for book lovers.

At that time, it was held at the combined high and middle schools in Hanover, New Hampshire, and like so many other bookaholics, I stood in a long line outside the doors, waiting for them to fling open for the tribe to slake its book lust.

I was amazed. Thousands and thousands of books for great prices, all those words to be mine.

I feasted.

Somewhere around year ten, I ventured to ask one of the volunteers if I, as a non-alum of the 5 sister colleges to whom the money is given for scholarships, could also volunteer. You betcha.

The next year, I joined the sorting brigade, separating books that would sell from those festooned with mildew, mold, dust and the scribblings of a former student.

Oh yes, I learned to throw books away, an act that felt more than slightly sacrilegious at first. But I adjusted.

This year, because of my commitment to the Parkinson's Quilt Project, I did not get to sort. But I did take my usual turn as an express cashier for the first two hours of the sale.

And for 45 minutes before the lusty hordes were admitted, I got to feast almost entirely by myself. And I am celebrating this cold, rainy (OK, snowy) day by sitting near our woodstove in the living room, my feet up, reading.

Aaaaahhhhhh......mmmmmmm.