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I might have acquired some more books maybe and by maybe I mean that definitely happened

I seem to be developing a canker sore. Add that to not being able to walk due to the ILL-FATED MOVE of trying to run for the first time in a year up a hill in Washington state, plus the slow realization that eating crumpets coated in Nutella and ricotta cheese will NOT in fact help me lose weight, and I am just in stellar shape body-wise right now.


What other vestiges are there of my trip? Oh, nothing. Just the FIVE BOOKS I BOUGHT IN SEATTLE.


From the bottom: The Underground tour that I recommend to all ends with a FANTASTIC GIFT SHOP. In this shop they had not one, not two, but MANY MANY books on women in the Pacific Northwest. I limited myself to two of them. One is about "Untamed Women of the Olympic Wilderness" —

And the other is Good Time Girls of the Alaska-Yukon Gold Rush, which I am QUITE psyched about. First sentence: "The red light district of Fairbanks, Alaska, was once hailed as the best in the West." How can you not want to read more? YOU HAVE TO KEEP GOING. Unless you are me and have 25 books on your Goodreads Currently Reading list. IT'S GOTTEN A LITTLE OUT OF HAND BUT I HAVE A PLAN IT'LL ALL BE FINE (lies there is no plan someone help me).

Remember when everyone was all JEFFREY EUGENIDES WROTE A NEW BOOK and a lot of people read it but some of us didn't because we said we'd get to it later, even though we REALLY REALLY loved Middlesex? Look, Middlesex is the fucking porcupine's galoshes, but sometimes even though you super-love an author and assume you'll like their next book, you just don't have time. So I kept not reading The Marriage Plot, but then it was on the Elliott Bay Book Co discount table and it's in paperback and that's a format that folds up so nicely into my purse (where I can then spill my almond milk protein drink on it SORRY MICHELLE TEA BOOK) so I have that one now.

I've never read any Georgette Heyer. I've learned from an attempted but aborted fling with P.G. Wodehouse that while I feel my personality should like English comedy of manners type things, they're not so much my jam. Rich English people being flippant in the countryside do not my motor run. But Heyer's important and the people at the Seattle Mystery shop were SO NICE and I didn't want yet another Agatha Christie sitting on my shelf.

As I was leaving town, I ran down the hill with my wheely suitcase and dashed through Pike St Market, picking up various fried/sugared/baked items on my way and ending up at Left Bank Books, which turns out to be a sort of socialist bookshop where I got to feel very full of myself by asking for Adrienne Rich's critical essays (they did not have any), but since it was an indie bookstore, I wanted to get something weird, so I bought Ripe Tomatoes, which is summarized on the back with "The members of the Utopian Tomato Commune unite with the Canning Factory workers for a smart, sensuous class struggle."

I am of course very excited about all of these and expect to read at least one by age 40.


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