After a slow start, yesterday turned into a Book Happiness bonanza.

My first stop was the mandatory one-per-weekend amazing vanishing yard sale fiasco: the Craigslist ad promises a sale at a certain corner. You drive to the corner, but it's not a corner at all, but at least six corners (due to a jog in the street) none of which shows any signs of a yard sale. My hopes were resurrected when I spotted a yard with some boxes in it. So I stopped and found out that this was indeed the sale, despite the lack of any signs. A teenaged boy was bringing out some dust-encrusted boxes of "books" while his elders—did the long white hair and Old Father Time beard signify a hillbilly or a hippie?—ducked out into the house. The boxes contained forty-year-old high school textbooks and bestsellers, basically bad thrift store stock.I did find one book, a paperback Mrs. Byrne's Dictionary (see earlier entry). I asked the kid how much for one book and the kid said he had to ask his dad. After some dawdling, Old Father Time came out, inspected the book, asked me what it was (it's a dictionary), noted its 1974 date and declared "Five dollars!" I countered, "One dollar!" (My two other copies haven't sold yet.) He then insisted that I had to pay at least three dollars, "because anybody will come here and pay one dollar." I didn't quite understand the logic. He then came down to two dollars which I was willing to pay just to end the pain, but he didn't have change of a ten. I gave up and walked away. I doubt anyone else would have had the perseverence to even find that sale. I feel sorry for the boy.

Next stop, college gym rummage sale. I arrive just in time to stand in line with a handful of cheerful middle-aged ladies, obviously not book people.

When I entered I saw an entire wall of a gymnasium given over to old books, two rows thick. Immediately I picked up a few of them, both old Christian tomes, debates on various theological topics. This was the second Christian college sale I'd attended that featured these sorts of debate books: the expected controversies between Atheists and Christians, or Mormons and Christians but also between different sorts of Baptists or between Baptists and non-Baptists or between proponents and non-proponents of some Christian practice or doctrine. For example: The Warren-Ballard Debate held in Fort Worth, Texas in July of 1952. Proposition One: "The Scriptures teach that faith in Christ procures salvation without further acts of obedience." Proposition Two: "The Scriptures teach that water baptism is for the remission of past sins." Another debate went on between two pamphlets: Why Baptize by Sprinkling, by John R. Church and Why Not To Baptize By Sprinkling, by James R. Cope. My favorite acquisition, though, despite its rather shabby condition, was Thirty Years in Hell or From Darkness to Light by "Ex-Priest" Bernard Fresenborg. (I've never seen this sort of title in anything but shabby condition, right down to the water-stained boards.) It's a sensational expose of the sinful practices of priests, which reminded me of the "Alberto" comic books published by Jack Chick. Like Alberto's, Fresenborg's claims to Catholic priesthood were dubious.

The densely packed, almost unliftable box I brought home from that sale should keep me busy for a few days.

Does anyone know the whereabouts of the annual Beaverton AAUW book sale? I've been looking forward to it all year and there's no sign of it anywhere. It's always been held in May. They charge by the pound, a novel idea that works well for me, as I am drawn to small books and pamphlets anyway. The ladies who've been running the sale each year are advanced in age, unable to find younger replacements, so you can draw your own conclusions. I'm just having a hard time giving up on this one, as it was one of my favorites.

I have been away for a week and now have another week and a half of extra free time, free time to shop for more books. (Last weekend while out of town I missed at least two good book sales & one good estate sale.) Spotted an ad for an estate sale which did not mention books, but did mention "70 years of accumulation," a phrase that always captures my attention. One always imagines a treasure trove of quaint oddities, just waiting to be plundered. (Instead, it's often just a 70-year accumulation of the usual household junk.) The ad featured an "ask seller a question" link, so I asked if there were any books, and if so, how many, and also requested that I be put on the list if there was one. The reply stated there were only three boxes of books, but that I was now number seven on the list. I'd probably be the first book scout in, and have first pick of the very small litter.

I've encountered just about every possible configuration of estate sale disappointment, but this one was new to me. I pulled up about twenty minutes before the sale was supposed to begin. A number of the estate sale regulars were gathered in front of the house, or rather lined up in front of the door. I headed for the front section of the line, stating that I was number seven on the list, but was promptly informed that "they lost the list." There was no longer any list and people were supposed to just line up in the order of arrival. I wouldn't have wasted my gas to attend, if I'd known I was anything but number seven on the list, so I continued to plead my case to the others near the front of the line. They were not exactly sympathetic, but not hostile either. I held my spot & was eventually let in to inspect the rare treasures, after about twenty others, in the third wave.

After I'd picked out a couple items (two okay books & a smallish $2 Revereware pot) I attempted to communicate my diappointment at having my placement on the list vanish to one of the sellers. She didn't know anything about it.