Making up in verve and volume what they lack in reading skills

Today we had two visitors of a particular regional persuasion who were browsing peacefully in the atomic history section. Until they came upon Richard Rhodes' The Making of the Atomic Bomb, that is.

Apparently they thought it was a cookbook or how-to manual rather than a history, and the husband said loudly, "I bet every A-rab in the country has this book!"

Ellen waited on them, and after they left, she said in the loud, quacking accent of that particular regional persuasion, "Ah tucked mah Star o' David necklace inta mah shirt, 'cause if he don't lahk A-rabs, he shore ain't gonna lahk us Jews."

A cookbook for all them guys who ain't Murcans.

Hoping a personal visit and a bit of fast footwork will make up for not quite understanding anything

or, "I'm from the Chamber of Commerce, and I'm here to help you."

[Disclaimer: the problem described here has been resolved.]

Several weeks ago, Alan, our manager at the store, was reading the Chamber of Commerce's website and came across the page for the second annual "Next Big Idea," a "festival of discovery, invention, and innovation." On the page was a selection of science toys and kits, with the information that "if you can't find these items at Otowi Station, you can order them from our website."

Well, naturally, we'd want to sell the items--none of which we currently had in stock--but nobody at the chamber talked to us about them, nor indeed about the Next Big Idea. I asked Terry, our toy buyer, to see what she could do to bring in some of the toys in time for the festival. She said that with the vendors' minimums, she'd have to spend thousands.

Then Alan went back to the website and started "buying" toys. When it came time to check out, he was directed to [cue ominous "uh-oh" music] amazon.com. Well, I mean to tell you, all three of us were completely unhinged. I myself couldn't even speak, instead making some of those low, agitated tones that one normally associates with the chronically insane. The chamber is supposed to support local merchants, not direct business to the Great Satan. What the heck?

Terry began to probe a little more. ToyStew (not its real name) was the vendor of the toys on the website. She had never heard of the company. When she called the number for ToyStew on the Great Satan's webpage, she got somebody in Oregon. She asked about the toys and got a vague, evasive, desultory response. The person didn't seem to know a lot about the toys, although he agreed that the company did indeed sell them. Hmmmm.

Later that day, Terry got a call from one of her regular vendors, and asked offhandedly whether they had ever heard of ToyStew. The vendor said it was a Canadian company. When Terry told us that, we went bananas. Totally unavailable to reason. Not only had the chamber directed customers to amazon.com, but they were also directing customers out of the country. And in today's economic climate!

I was ready to get a two-by-four, go across the street to the chamber, and commence to beatin'. Instead, I took a deep, cleansing breath and left a friendly voicemail requesting that the director swing by the store the next day.

The director came over the next morning and asked what was up. Terry and I explained what we found on the website and what Terry had learned. From the look on his face, I guessed that the director obviously had no idea what was going on with the webpage. But he was determined to make it right. He said, "Let's make Otowi Station the official toy store of the Next Big Idea Festival!"

I thanked him and asked that he please be sure his staff talks to us first before putting anything involving us on the chamber's website.

Anyway, the website has been changed. I'm happier.

Otowi Station: your official toy store of the Next Big Idea festival.

P-doobie: your admirably nonviolent owner.

I need something to make me feel better.

Suppertime, and the livin' is easy

Earlier I posted images of an English sparrow in the hole in the poplar. Yesterday we watched for a long time as the mother and father fed the nestlings. Click on the images to enlarge them.

Are you in there, Myron? It's time for dinner.

Just be calm. I'm regurgitating as fast as I can.

I'd really like a green chile cheeseburger instead of masticated insects.

What do I have to do to get something to eat around here?

Open wide, Myron.

Let's get it in your mouth. Don't drool.

And a cut of pie for dessert.

That particular brand of chutzpah is known, where I come from anyway, as cruisin' for a bruisin'

On Thursday evening Michele and I were in the store for the signing with William Tucker (hi, Bill!). Competing with the signing, however, was an event at the library, an Authors Speak lecture featuring Los Alamos author James D. Doss (hi, Danny!), who is a good friend to the store and who often drops in to sign books and visit with our customers.

Another frequent visitor to the store is Ina, a local self-published author. And she visited Thursday night. And I listened from the office to her discussion with Michele, Perry, and Susan.

"I want to buy Snake Dreams before the talk at the library. Danny said I could get 20% off the book for his talk," Ina squawked her her going-deaf voice. Apparently she wasn't wearing her hearing aids.

Perry said, "He didn't talk to us about that."

"Well, he said you would."

Susan said, "We offer 20% off on the author's book when he signs here in the store."

"But it is a signing! Danny said that we can get 20% off all his books for tonight's events!"

Michele stepped in and, enunciating crisply and loudly, said, "Danny did not talk with us about any discounts. If Danny were planning a special event that we'd be involved in, he'd come in and talk with us, and the entire staff would be aware of any discounts. We are not discounting his books for signings at other venues. They are 20% off only when he signs here in the store. You do not get a 20% discount on this book."

"Well, I do get a 10% senior discount. I am a senior citizen after all!"

Susan began to ring up her purchase. "You should give me another 10% in honor of his talk over at the library," Ina squawked.

Susan asked, "You want a purple shopping bag for that?"

Ina: "You should give me my entire purchase for 75% off because I am dressed like Jane Austen."

Perry: "Why is the big roll of packing tape always in the workroom when I need it at the counter?"

"Yea, the sparrow hath found an house"

Yea, and Chuckbert hath identified the bird in the poplar tree. It's a house sparrow. Last year we had the chickadee.

My little chickadee!

Over the years, birds have pecked a hole in the trunk of the dead poplar in the back yard. You can see the hole on the right side of the main trunk. Click on the images to enlarge them.

Here's the current occupant, a mountain chickadee.

While I was trying to take another picture, Ike startled the bird, and it flew just as I pressed the shutter. You can see the chickadee in flight in the left-center of the image.

Paper wasps

Today our handyguy, Mark, removed our crappy garage door and took it to the dump. We hadn't lowered it in years, and when I looked at the ceiling of the carport, I saw that paper wasps had made nests in the protected space between the ceiling and the garage door. They don't bother me, because they mind their own business and nosh on flies. They won't survive the winter, and the nests aren't reused. If you're not creeped out, click on the images to enlarge them.

This nest looks like an inverted umbrella.

This is the biggest nest.

This is a starter home.