Traveling typewriting lives!

Just a quick update. Last summer's Typewriter Day experiment lives on,or at least part of it is sitting with me. My own meager attempt has come full-circle, and I've got at least one other in my hands now. In retrospect, the "traveling fiction" idea may have set the bar a bit high, as I'm already sweating how to add to Olivander's in a suitable way, and we had a number of folks who had to defect for one reason or another. What an electric thrill, though, to get something in the actual mail, typewritten on onionskin. I'm pleased to be able to add a little from my own hoard to the bottom of the stack. We'll have to find some suitable way to mark June 23rd again this year. Any ideas?

Warming the cockles

Still reeling with secret jealousy over Strikethru's latest retail treasure, I made my usual thrift rounds today at lunch in search of a fish sculpture (don't ask.) A complete bust on the fish, but look what I uncovered instead.

I feel like a wine nut that's just found a bottle of rare Château Snooty at the local swap meet. It's brand-new, still wrapped in tattered plastic, a band around the sheets of delightfully nubby, super-light paper. It's been years since I held a sheet of this stuff. I promised myself that I would not covet the fine paper collections of my fellow typecasters, that using the backs of cheap office cast-offs would do me just fine. I'm of midwestern stock, I'm supposed to be Practical and Sensible about this sort of thing.

Did I mention that I can't stop sniffing the paper? I hope Southworth didn't treat their papers with anything noxious, or I'll be getting an unintentional contact high, and I'm already a bit giddy.