The Bishop Doth Stink

On Saturday we drove to the Harrisonburg area to buy some books to take on vacation (which is, blissfully, next week). The book fair used to be a favorite haunt of ours and we’d go several times a year. Our trip on Saturday was the first visit in two years. The better-half observed the books are really slanted towards women. I tend to agree with him. Women who are large and stand immovable in front of shelves for so long that other people just give up and go to other sections to browse. I’m talking to you women who wouldn’t share the Southern Writers section, thanks for nothing.

We found a few good buys and there should be plenty of reading material for next week. On our way home, I remarked we should just go to one of the local used book stores to stock up for vacation instead of driving a couple of hours away. We did get some books for The Niece and her sister–classics at a very good price.

As an aside, I think I may call the newest niece Little Elvis on these pages. She has a whole lotta shaking going on — in a very cute but not palsied way. This may come to embarrass her so we’ll see.

On our way home, we stopped at the Whole Foods in Charlottesville. As we entered the store and came to rest in the olive oil area (it’s not too far in from the front door and it’s a good place to form a plan of action), I told the better-half that I felt like I was back in civilization. We mostly spent our money on cheese and one of those cheeses was the Stinking Bishop.

We haven’t seen the Wallace and Gromit movie so we only bought the cheese because it stinks. Now, I’m ready to hunt down that cheese because in addition to the stink it tastes so good. So good, in fact, that the Stinking Bishop is but a memory.