Well, on this happy Gobble Day, I'm where I always am -- Starbucks, working on the dissertation. A few days ago, I helped my friend Sarah get a load of P.G. Wodehouse books she'd put on layaway at a used bookstore called Grumpy's. Apparently, she got quite a deal -- 40 Wodehouse (pronounced "wood-house," I was told quite vehemently ) books in hardcover, at 8 bucks apiece but 20% off. So, mission happily accomplished.
What made the encounter intriguing, however, was how thoroughly it proved to me that I lived in a red state. The guy had a "Trump" sticker on his front door (this is a business, mind you!) and a "Jesus is Lord" sticker as well. That actually reminded me of another business in town that has had "Obama did not build this" painted prominently on the side of its outside wall. Well, I walked into the bookshop to the sound of Christian talk radio, which is unsurprising enough, but then I saw that Mr. Grumpy himself was doing an open-carry. Ayup -- a big ole' holstered pistol at his left hip. I'm not sure if used bookstore get robbed at a higher rate than liquor stores, but yeah, there it is.
Later, when I told Martina about the open-carry gun, she was mad that I didn't point it out to her when she was in the store. (She's European, you see, and the American love of guns is a source of both horror and fascination.) Apparently she wanted me to nudge and point and snicker like it was rhinoceros or giant turtle caught in a compromising position at the zoo.