We need our bookstores.

The Times had a story about Powell's Book Store this week. I got nervous when I saw the headline, thinking "oh no, not closing?" (talk about getting so used to gloom & doom economic reports that you read bad news into articles before you even read them!)

In case you haven't been to Powell's, it's awesome! A HUGE book emporium, covering a full city block in Portland. In the heart of the city. You could spend a week browsing and not see everything.

Turns out they're not closing. They've just tabled plans to expand for now....a smart move given the recession. But for a moment, I had a spooky vision of a world on Kindle.

Imagine not being able to hold a book in your hands...to turn crisp, clean pages and smell that wonderful new book scent. Or even the scent of a musty, well-worn book from years ago. How sad if we ever lose that. And yet it could happen if people stop buying books.

One of my best friends works in this wonderful, cozy comfy, I-want-to-stay-here-all-day bookstore in Carbondale, CO. When I talked to her the other day, she was hoping the store wouldn't really be closing at the end of the month. What a loss that would be. No more book signings or book club meetings. No curling up in the red leather chair with the reading lamp and trying to decide which book to buy. No colorful childrens' corner with the wonderful furry animal reading mats.

I SO hope people keep buying books. I tweeted about it earlier this week and posted something on my Facebook page to remind people in my neighborhood to support our fabulous independent bookstore, Unabridged. We've taken our grandchildren there as soon as they could walk. And it continues to be one of their favorite haunts when they come to visit. The best part?
They love to read.

Who is this person calling me "mom"?

My oldest daughter and her husband are renovating their kitchen. Seemed like a smarter move than buying a new house.

But we went out there a few days ago, and I couldn't believe what I saw. Let me preface this by mentioning that she is always cleaning. A clean freak. (OK, I may have had a small role in this but most of it's from her dad). Suffice it to say that a dust buster is never far from whatever room she's in.

So back to the house....
we walked in to a first floor that was pretty much totally gutted. No appliances. No cabinets. No ceilings or floors. Oh, and no sink or vanity in the bathroom. To get upstairs...which is where most of the things in the kitchen now reside...we had to maneuver under several very thick layers of plastic dropcloths put up to keep construction dust out (sort of).

The coffee pot is in the boys' bathroom. The toaster oven in the playroom. Cereal, crackers and other dry food goods are lined up neatly in the playroom along with paper plates and cups in case one of the boys gets hungry. There's an extra fridg in the garage but you have to go outside and through the garage to get to it.

And in the midst of all this mess, my daughter (the clean freak) is laughing and smiling and totally calm. And not even sedated (damn right, I asked!).

Last night she called to tell me they had a picnic on her comforter...in her bed. The boys loved it so they're doing it again.

Go figure. Sometimes you don't really know your kids after all.