McHuston Booksellers

Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: Broken Arrow (Page 82 of 141)

Ah. The commercials explain it all.

July 27, 2013 /

‘Splain it, I should say. But they also make me realize things I didn’t know I needed to know.

I don’t have one. Do you? I mean – truly – I didn’t know I was supposed to have one. But here I stand (actually, I’m sitting…) having just been ordered by the person reading the television commercial: Ask your rheumatologist.

My rheumatologist?

Not even sure who those people are, or what a rheumatologist does. But, Phil Mickelson has one. He’s the star of the commercial, if commercials have stars. He spends his on-camera time talking about how dealing with pain is part of his golf-game. Apparently, Mr Mickelson suffers from what we used to call arthritis. My grandparents probably just called it aches or pains. At some point in my lifetime, it went from simple arthritis to Rheumatoid Arthritis.

Oh, the folks suffering from it never said that. There was no “Gracious, my rheumatoid arthritis is kicking up a touch. Perhaps I’ll have an aspirin.” Nah. It was more like, “Agh. Darned arthritis,” if anything would be said at all. I believe folks of my parent’s generation would have just endured it with minimal complaint.

Times were different then.

Now, in our age of gotta-have-air-conditioning-or-I-might-die, and our increasingly abbreviated speech, that old ailment is just too long to be spoken. Rheumatoid arthritis is now: RA. Our mouths just don’t work like those of previous generations. We can’t say things like “medication.” Our dogs take pet “meds.” I suppose we humans do too. If I’d had my “meds” I probably would not be writing this blog. Blog. Used to be a “web log,” but that took too long to say, so it was shortened to “blog.” That’s okay, I guess.

‘Kay with you? (Saved a full syllable there. Okay?)

You know when to be taking your meds, by taking your temp. That’s the thing that used to be “temperature” but it was just too difficult to voice. Temp. Meds. RA.

As a kid, I suffered the effects of asthma. Of course, if it recurs at this point of my life, I’ll need meds for A. Two syllables are just one too many.

Another question-posing commercial asks about your financial “number.” People are seen walking around with a large red number in their hands. There are no three or four digit numbers in any of the commercials. I’m not sure there are even any six digit figures. What is the number? It’s the amount of money we should have salted away for retirement. Not a hundred-thousand dollars. Not eight-hundred-thousand dollars.

The commercials all show actors carrying around one-million-dollar-plus retirement numbers. That’s the amount we’re supposed to have stuffed inside the mattress over time to take care of bills in our golden years.

Regrettably, my golden years will be closer to fool’s-golden. Somewhere along the line I failed to stash away a big enough percentage to have that Sweet-Million set back for the post-work good life.

Of course, based on the today’s pared-down style, I’m just keeping with the times. When the RA creeps up on me, I’ll just take a hard-earned D and buy an A. (D: dollar. A: Aspirin, for those of you my age. The rest of you already knew that, I know.) I don’t have a million set back, but I have the abbreviated version. The Really-Abbreviated-Version.

And, of course, when I feel the pain of RA, I’ll consult him or her. You know…

My rheumatologist.

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main Street, Broken Arrow OK!

Once upon a time, in a town called Broken Arrow.

July 26, 2013 /

I don’t usually ask for names, figuring if a person wants me know their name, they’ll mention it. Maybe if it looks like we’re going to be trapped together in a broken elevator for the next six hours, a name might make the wait more comfortable. Kids in a sandbox? Sure.

Kid One, looking at Kid Two: Hey! Wanna play trucks? I’m Poindexter! What’s your name?

Kid Two: Gibby. I hate playing trucks.

Kid One: Okay. Then you can keep on eating the sand. I’ll build my roads over in the corner there.

Kid Two: Mmmmgllblg.

Honestly – as adults – you just never know for certain what it’s about when someone asks your name. Once I answered the What’s-your-name-Question and was promptly handed a legal summons. Not a big deal, as it turned out. But if I’d just kept my mouth shut, maybe I would not have had to waste the time. I figure if someone wants you to know their name, they’ll introduce themselves and mention it.

So – I didn’t ask the lady her name. Now you know why, partly. She and her nice friend were having lunch at the shop today. I could tell by their accents that they were not from the Sooner State. One of the ladies made mention of the sandwich bread. She liked it a lot, and decided it was much different that the bread in Australia. “We’re from Australia,” she said.

So I learned that much without having to ask.

At the checkout counter I figured since they had mentioned their country of origin that the fact was fair game for conversation. I asked how two Australians wound up in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma, for lunch.

Books.

That was appropriate, I thought. Turns out, the taller of the two ladies is an Australian novelist who specializes in historical fiction. All of her works have been set in her native country. She figures that to sell books in the US, the plots will have to have American settings. I figure she is probably correct.

Which brings us to Broken Arrow, the setting of her next work of fiction. I suppose it doesn’t get any more American-sounding than Broken Arrow, especially if any stereotype of the Wild West remains. (Some of you might suggest Broken Bow, Oklahoma, as just as American-sounding, but then – that town could be named for gift-wrap, a violin bow, or a necktie…) If my Australian guest is planning on writing American historical fiction, the American West has played host to some great stories, and why not have them in a town with a real-West-sounding name like Broken Arrow?

I suggested to her that one of her characters might visit a bookstore. (Wink, wink: nudge, nudge.) She didn’t actually roll her eyes at the idea, but I could tell that her inner eye was rolling at the speed of light. I gave her a business card anyway and offered to answer any questions that might come up later about the area. Email and all that. G’day mate.

That, of course, will be the only way that I would ever find out if the book ever gets written, published, and distributed.

Since I didn’t ask her name.

It is true that most authors like the idea of having their book in a bookstore. Perhaps, at some point in the future, she (or her publisher) will make contact about a book with Broken Arrow, Oklahoma as its setting, and make it available for purchase in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma! I’m anxious to know if the hero of the story will be a sharpshooting, jingle-jangle spur-wearing cowboy riding high in the saddle on an Appaloosa kangaroo.

Every book sold today gets a free raincoat (some call them plastic bags), so come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main Street, Broken Arrow, OK

Boom. Pow. Lightning. Thunder. Darkness.

July 24, 2013 /

When those leaves blowing across the road are brown, we know fall has arrived. When they’re blowing green, we Okies know that indicates thunderstorms and damage. Obviously, I’m not sleeping like I ought to be.

The drive to the shop had downed trees in the headlights – a couple of them anyway, good-sized, but confined to front yards. There were large branches in the roadway, but fortunately they were in the other lane and I didn’t even have to swerve.

Travis Meyer has just reported that 30,000 folks are without power – the house I just drove away from among them. That’s why I rolled out of bed and donned the clothes. I had an idea I could buy some QT ice and save the inventory in the bistro kitchen.

No more than a couple of pitch-black-driving blocks later, I saw lights shining over several driveways. Emergency lights, I figured. Later, I decided that the power grid must split right down the building-subdivision and the houses to the east still had power.

Sure enough, Reasor’s, Kum-&-Go, and Sonic are operating with lights blazing. Still, along the course of my drive there were dramatically waving trees and more debris and blowing leaves. The green ones ripped from from the trees. On Main Street in the newly-named Rose District, at least one stop sign is blown down and a couple of orange traffic barrels are on their sides.

Power at the bookshop? We’re blazing with lights here. (Couldn’t have been reporting the latest KOTV news offerings without that power thing.)

Which brings us to a couple of present-day technological difficulties. When the bedroom fan choked and quit, it immediately grew warm, but I could switch on the Kindle and check out the latest from the TV weather folks. Wrong-a-roo. Remember that wireless modem thing? Powered by electricity?

It’s dead.

No connection. No problem, I thought. I’ll just read until the power comes back on. (I’m admitting here that I have that tech in hand. Gotta know what a bookseller is up against, you know…) Then, I realize that I can read until the power drains down and I won’t be able to charge it back. No electricity. Since its main function is to serve as my alarm clock, I can’t afford to let the battery run down and risk oversleeping. I am able to do that sort of thing, you know. No power, no lights, no alarm clock? No fun.

That’s when I decided I ought to check on the kitchen and the fridge and freezer situation.

As it turns out, all is well here. Now the KOTV folks are reporting 42,000 homes without power and some twisters down by Eufaula, others near Tenkiller. Circulation feature. Feature, like it’s a drive-in double-bill or something. McAlester, Hartshorne, Pittsburg County, my old stomping grounds – under the gun: “You need to take cover,” they are imploring, as the storm barrels through at more than 50 miles an hour.

I had lodged the store sign from the old location into a wedgie-location, thinking it would not move. It did. Smacked up against the van. New dents are not noticeable up against the old dents. Apparently, there were some strong winds downtown BA, even if the power stayed on.

I’m thankful that the keep-cold items are safe. I feel bad for the 42-thousand (at last update) without power, because I was plenty beyond-warm when I abandoned the darkness for a drive to the shop. The Air-Con is working fine in the bookstore, thank you very much.

It looks like a bed-down here is in the works as it’s already early morning. (Actually, no bed here – more like a balance-on-some-chairs thing. On the up-side… I can’t be late getting here in the morning.

Those of you with the smarty-phones will be able to keep in touch. High-tech. Those of us who have washed our phones in the past week are slaves to internet hotspots. I hope you have power and that alarm clock is working fine in the morning.

If not, you have the perfect excuse for sleeping in on Wednesday.

If you’re out and about, come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St, Broken Arrow OK!

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