is the euphemism that Kakaner and another friend helped me come up with for how I felt after I walked a fair distance under rather chilly conditions, only to find that the target of my latest and much-anticipated awesome-bookstore visit, Argosy Books (116 East 59th Street, New York, New York) was CLOSED.
Approaching the target (green banner spotted ahead):
…CLOSED WHYYYYY. On top of having beautifully lit and presented displays out for me to stare at longingly through the bars, they even had a “New Year’s Sale!” prominently advertised. Well I can’t abuse my savings account on behalf of your sale if you’re CLOSED, can I?
So my visit to Argosy had to be put off to another time, but I did get to see some fun bookish things when my brother and I ducked into the New York Public Library to poke around.
The original inhabitants of the Hundred Acre Woods, currently housed in the children’s section:
How cute is Piglet? I should have taken a picture from behind to show Eeyore’s tacked-on tail, too.
I remember reading an article about A. A. Milne and the real Christopher Robin, in which it was mentioned that of the original toys, Roo had been forgotten and lost at some point in an orchard. I found this information rather traumatic.
About ten minutes to closing time, we also managed to stumble into a special exhibit celebrating the 250th anniversary of Voltaire’s Candide. I like Rousseau more than Voltaire, but I’m still fangirl enough to have ooh’d and ahh’d over a briefcase that belonged to the latter:
“Portefeuille de Monsieur de Voltaire”!
(Of course it would be a totally pimped out briefcase. In his defense, it was a gift to him from someone else.)