I've been out of blogville for awhile for various reasons, one being that I'm not computer savvy and when I want to add pictures I end up doing what I did on the last entry - BIG.  Add to that my frustration trying to make it work... and well, never mind.  This is a test blog.  Sort of.  Because if I spend all this time here it's going on the blog - photo, big photo,no photo whatever photo....Okay, so it's the cutoffmytwin photo.  I give up.  Andy!  Where are youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu?????

 Now on to further adventures...

If you were here with us when Steve Doocy from Fox News was in town you know what a rush it was.  Literally and figuratively.  It was, in fact, simply amazing.  First of all, did any of you think that 400 people would fit into FoxTale?  Okay, so not all at one time, but wasn't it just AWESOME when you saw that long line snaking out our front door, out the parking lot and on into infinity???  The foxes were completely stunned by the turnout, and so appreciative of all of you who came, stood in line patiently and were just as thrilled by the response of the community as we were.  We heard earlier in the week that Steve had been announcing our shoppe on national television (!) then heard from a customer that pictures of the shoppe and us were on national television the Monday after the signing!!!  (Just for the record, I look better in person :)  )

The twins were asked last night if we had expected such a crowd.  "No," we replied.  "What did you DO?" they asked.  "What we do best, flew by the seat of our pants, looked out the door and said whoa!  Look at all those people out there!"  It was SURREAL. 

Do the foxes fly by the seat of their pants?  Hmm.  I prefer to call it what it really is - We fly alright, but with enthusiasm, taking chances and living to the hilt every step of the way.  That's what we do best - take the wild and crazy rides as they come, knowing that this moment in time is the best moment we have and embracing it in all its messy glory. Because that, my friends, is what a true fox does.  

Books beg to be written in.  Why do you think they have margins? The spaces around the text are for trail markers along the journey. The more markings, the more impact the surrounding words have had on the journeywoman. At any point in time, she can open the book and find who she was when she read it, a diary of sorts with scattered fragments of her soul whispering or screaming in the margins but important enough to be left behind, to leave a footprint - I was here at this point in time and not only is this book important but what I thought about it is more important.  I grieve when I hear someone say, "I don't mark in books." The books themselves must surely be hurt or offended by those who leave their pages crisp and clean, untouched by the beauty of its message or the cruelty of its truth. I am the kind of reader that Steinbeck refers to in East of Eden:  "...but Tom got into a book, crawled and groveled between the covers, tunneled like a mole among the thoughts, and came up with the book all over his face and hands."  If I loan you a book, I truly trust you, for I'm allowing the margins and underlines to reveal myself as I am, along with the story. If you love your books, mark them up and let them know it.  Is there a worse crime to be committed than one too reverent for expression or one who remains unmoved by the blistering heart laid bare by celestial fingers?

Okay so it's not Sunday morning and I'm not listening to Kris sing Sunday Mornin' Comin' Down.  It's Saturday and I'm off today thinking about Rick Bragg

comin' down to FoxTale.  If you haven't read anything by Rick Bragg you're in for a treat, so RUSH down to FoxTale and pick up "The Prince of Frogtown" for your weekend read.  (Check out our window display in honor of this book complete with a frog prince with a crown compliments of One Queen's Folly).  When we received the galley of this book ( for those of you who don't know what a galley is, also called an advanced reader copy, it's a book publishers send to booksellers in advance of publication) it was a box full of so-so titles when I discovered this treasure lurking in its disguise of plain blue cover,  the only words I needed to get to get me whoopin' and hollerin' and causing my twin to screech whatwhatwhat??!!  - RICK BRAGG.  Rick could write about dog food and make it the finest story you ever laid eyes on.  Really.

Let me digress.  When Jackie, Ellen and I met, we were part of a writing class that met at KSU, and the three of us, along with five others became an entity that our writing teacher dubbed "The Gypsies."  The Gypsies held court every week in class, then proceeded to a lunch location where we spent the afternoon in irreverant conversation and laughter.  It was here that I learned about Rick Bragg. The group had the same reaction I now have when I meet someone who doesn't know Rick and his work.  WHAT?  YOU DON'T KNOW RICK BRAGG!?  GET THEE TO A BOOKSHOPPE IMMEDIATELY IF NOT SOONER!  And so I did.  And fell in love.   He is the quintessential southern writer, held in awe by those of us who esteem the written word.  When we began talking about having our own bookshoppe, we imagined that someday we would have Rick in the shoppe.  Here we are at our one-year anniversary with a scheduled appearance of THE MAN.  Lest you think that booksellers are able to call up and say, oh by the way, we'd like to have ... (laundry list of authors) ....believe you me it is so far from the truth.  Talk to Ellen about the difficulty and her ultimate triumph... It is a high honor and privelege to have Rick Bragg come to Woodstock on his national tour.  We are beside ourselves with excitement and anticipation and we want to share that withYOU, our loyal booklovers.

To give you a taste of "The Prince of Frogtown,"  here is an excerpt from an email I sent to Ellen shortly after finishing the book...

"I finished the galley of Ricky's new book last night.  This boy can wound my heart with his truth and his memories and his lyrical words in a way no other writer can.  He hands me my world, my South, my memories of delight and heartache in the only package that can capture my soul - a book. I wish hopelessly for the words to describe the effect on me - feel the power of my Southern roots, a tie that is so strongly connected to the land that I will never again  live anywhere else.  I know the South in my blood, its language, its customs, its foods - and I wonder if I'm one of the last Southerners who will carry on this legacy.  Rick reminds me of the child I was who lived and breathed in a South that held cousins and grandparents and aunts and uncles who could make me believe I was safe in houses that smelled of biscuits and Breck shampoo and surprised you by listening when you had something to say.  I cried over mothers and sons and how that boy loves his momma even in his middle-age.  Rick Bragg has a rare and beautiful gift. while God laughs that She brought it from such an unlikely soul.  Rick broke my heart with his words, then redeemed it with the same."

Now don't go thinking that my tears meant it's a sad book. (I cry over birds that fly into the glass at FoxTale and lie stunned on the sidewalk).  When I am profoundly moved, I cry.  Such tears are reminders of the things that are important in life, and how often I forget, being caught up in a world stuck on fast-forward.

I invite you to share our excitement and our time with Rick on Wednesday, May 28th at 7pm.  Buy the book at FoxTale in advance and we'll give you a ticket to get in.  There's going to be quite the crowd for this one, so don't wait.  We're thrilled to introduce those of you who haven't met Rick or his work, and to those who have, I don't need to say more.

The pancakes were just as yellow and brown as little tigers but none for you or Franco....

black jumbo1.BMP

Today's stack of books is P. Allen Smith's gardening books ( I LOVE P. ALLEN!  If I met him I would have to call him P.Allen and never JUST Allen.) 

a book on architectural details in the garden,

and a plethora of novels.  I just finished a fantastic book that will be coming out in July, The Story of Edgar Sawtelle.  The writing is delicious and the story compelling.  It's different than anything I've read before and will make a great summer read. Edgar, born mute, speaks only in sign, lives on a farm with his parents in Wisconsin.  For generations, the Sawtelles have raised and trained a fictional breed of dogs including Almondine, Edgar's lifelong companion. It's an idyllic life until the return of his uncle Claude to the family farm.  When Edgar's father dies, he's sure that Claude had something to do with his death and sets out to prove it.  What follows in this family saga is master storytelling.  The mysterious connection between humans and animals is beautifully portraited and particularly touching.  Keep it on your list for those long lazy days of summer.  Another point to note is that my hubby is a devoted western fan and reads Louis L'Amour westerns over and over.  When I finished Edgar Sawtelle I was so excited about it that I asked him to break out of his comfort zone and try it so that I could talk to someone about it.  He started reading it late Saturday night, spent the whole day Sunday doing nothing but reading and finished it late Sunday night.  Now folks let me tell you that this something to write home about.  He loved it. Enough said. 

Now I know that you can't wait until JULY for a great read, so I want to tell you about some of my other favorites that you can find tomorrow at FoxTale.

What a powerful read THIS is.  Set in rural Mississippi right after WWII when the world has changed but the old South has not, city girl Laura moves with her husband and daughters to a farm that she dubs Mudbound and tries to adjust to farm life.  Add in an ogre of a father-in-law, a husband determined to be a farmer in spite of the odds, a brother that comes back from the war broken and his friendship with a fellow veteran who is black, no women friends for support and you've got a helluva story.  Don't think this is your typical racial conflict story, it is so much more.  You won't forget these characters or their lives for a long time to come.  I can't say enough good things about it, just read it. 

Can you believe I've never read John Irving's  "A Prayer for Owen Meany"?!  Me either! How did I miss it???  I mean, who could NOT read a book with this for the opening line:  "I'm am doomed to remember a boy with a wrecked voice- not because of his voice, or because he's the smallest person I ever knew, or even because he was the instrument of my mother's death, but because he is the reason I believe in God..."  That's on the menu for today's reading.  If you haven't read it either, read it along with me.

I can ramble on and on but then I'd miss the blueberry pancakes, the porch, and the books.  And yes, Ellen, I AM going on a diet so I can fit into the skinny dress, right after the pancakes...