Tag Archives: Little Bookstore of Big Stone Gap

Dirty Little Secrets of the Little Bookstore of Big Stone Gap

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“I smell pee in Self-help.” Cryptic messages like this come to my inbox from Wendy’s outbox each Sunday. I clean the store on Mondays when it’s closed to customers. Cat pee intel is a necessary part of the job.
 
 
Dirty secret #1: Wendy smells cat pee everywhere. I have caught her, ponytail undone and glasses askew, on the floor sniffing books. “Is this pee?” We attempt various methods of ‘scent improvement’ from time to time. There was the recipe for all-natural deodorizer: orange peels marinated for two weeks in vinegar. After much anticipation, it was just vinegar with slimy orange peels. Fail.

Dirty secret #2: There is usually at least one pair of underwear draped over a stack of books. Wendy and Jack don’t use an electric clothes dryer. It’s a perfectly acceptable way to reduce one’s carbon footprint, but when customers start asking the price of the pink panty-shaped book covers in the Christian Fiction section, you have an issue.

Dirty secret #3: The last shop sitter was a vampire. The Grammar Girls suspected it right away. Andrew was a little too perfect. His second Monday in-shop, I got no answer at the front door or on the telephone. He later explained he had “slept in.” We knew he was in his coffin waiting for sunset. On another visit, we discovered a second -story window in the guest room wide open, no screen. Was it an excessive need of fresh air, or Count Von Whalen’s launch pad? Then there was the giant bottle of red “hot sauce” he kept on the table. Andrew never sparkled; obviously he was old-school. He also never admitted to OR denied our suspicions.

Dirty secret #4: I cuss the bookstore cats. Once I receive the weekly pee report from Wendy, I arrive ready for battle, steam mop as my trusty lance.  Should I come across a smelly but previously un-targeted area, I cuss the cats by name and in chronological order by age. They hear me. It’s why they  pee in hard-to-clean places. I hear them laughing. Damn cats.

Dirty secret #5: I sometimes accidentally knock books off shelves while vacuuming. I will apologize if there is an author staring up from the back cover. “Oops! I’m sorry, Ms. Cornwell!” Upon returning the books, I do not… always… alphabetize… them. Somewhere in Turkey, an American bookshop owner just fainted.

Dirty secret #6: One Friday, Jack prepared curry in the counter-top grill that serves as stovetop and pot in the downstairs kitchen. Did I mention Monday is cleaning day? The next week was business-as-usual, until I walked into the kitchen and found a gang of wasted fruit flies hanging out at the grill. As I lifted the lid, there came an odd sucking noise. There, in all its horrifying glory, was… “Eeee!”  I called Wendy at work to apologize for disturbing what was obviously a successful trial of how to grow a Sasquatch from scratch.

There are famous lairs and not-so-famous lairs.

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This first guest blog is by “KLS”  one of the infamous Grammar Guerrilla Girls….

Dr. Evil and his henchmen plotted world domination from a lair deep under the Las Vegas desert. Lord Voldemort slithered his way into Lucius Malfoy’s mansion, and Freddy Krueger spent his waking hours at 1428 Elm Street.

A lair exists at 404 Clinton Avenue East in Big Stone Gap, falling into the not-so-famous category–or cat-allegory, as some who know it well would say. Tales of the Lonesome Pine Used Books is the “unofficial” headquarters of a small band of women who strive to improve grammar on posters, signs, social media posts, and everywhere else, using red felt pens and alcohol.

When you think about it, a bookstore is the perfect hideout for a gang of grammar gals. They employ simple red ink  to wage war on misused words, clumsy commas, and pesky punctuation. Just standing near the Strunk and White paperbacks, housed on a cozy shelf by the kitchen, magically energizes these women.

The gang embraces technology to carry out its guerilla warfare. Mobile phone cameras come in handy when documenting retail signage that proudly proclaims “Sorry, We’re Open.” The misuse of “There, Their, and They’re” puts us in full battle mode. Red ink freely flows. Driving through a nearby town that displays signs boasting “RV’s are welcome” causes near-strokes. You get the picture. Right?

Cuddling the bookstore cats provides great stress relief after a particularly rough “code red pen” day. An exhausting battle usually includes the typing of crisp rants on social media. At the end of a particularly long month, the friends gather, often at the bookstore, to enjoy a glass of wine, watermelon sangria, or sangria of any sort. These rallies often result in hilarity and hijinks. Many schemes are plotted; most are innocent. Most.

The gals help each other a lot, and I do mean a lot, not “alot,” a red pen offense that makes the blood boil. The gang is always there for each other, even if the help comes via cyberspace in private social media chats.

Who are these gritty grammarians? I’m not spilling the beans, but followers of the blog are in for a treat. Most of the gang will take a turn blogging while Jack and Wendy are away. (See? We’re always happy to help out.) I will reveal a little about the gang, but just a wee bit.

One keeps the others amused relaying the unintentionally hilarious comments of a certain coworker. Another cooks delicious dishes when not working in the education field. One tends to region’s medical needs. And one would admit she is an expert zookeeper at home and at work, keeping the lair neat and tidy. Another is recovering nicely from a medical scare, and raising a young girl who will one day take over the world. One moved away to pursue a career and start life with a gorgeous young man, but she remains true to the grammar cause. And another dabbles in spin when not seeking outdoor adventures that only a woman in full middle age crisis can muster. The last one travels a lot lately. Enough said.

Enjoy their postings in the coming week. Feel free to take your own red pen to the blog as you read. We would expect no less. And stop by the lair from time to time. You may spot a grammarian lurking between the shelves. Look for red ink stains on the hands. A sangria stain on a blouse could also be a clue.

Regardless (not “irregardless,” another red pen offender) we’re out there, waiting to take over the world, one comma at a time.