<div>I crawled out of bed yesterday only to throw myself into planning our 11-month-old's birthday party (any suggestions for a fun, low-cost venue would be oh-so-appreciated) while whirring away on my new exercise bike while <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">also</span> perusing the most recent annual Southern Living compilation of "best" recipes. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It's never good for me to flit through bad photos of gooey casseroles and mushy pasta renditions of West Side Story before 10 a.m. That I was sweating and out of breath at the same time was the perfect recipe for one of those headaches that starts between the eyes and, within half an hour, stiffens the back of the neck into hard little knots. </div><div><br /></div><div>I managed to bathe and get dressed anyway. Then, there was knocking at my door. </div><div><br /></div><div>When I'm in a good mood and don't have a splitting headache, I think drop-in visits are the rudest thing ever. I mean, they make me whiney like a four-year-old. They make me feel like nothing good is ever going to happen to me again. When I don't feel well and could swear the house smells like a church potluck dinner, the way I feel about drop-in visits is, um, worse. </div><div><br /></div><div>At the door was my friend from my office days, who was scheduled to spend the day at my house with another friend of ours today. Not yesterday. Or, so I thought. The e-mail flurry we used to try to coordinate the visit happened during maybe five other e-mail flurries coordinating five other meetings, interviews and get-togethers. I got my wires crossed. </div><div><br /></div><div>Since I screwed up and thus deprived myself of delivering my (favorite) stern speech on how drop-in visits are uncouth and presumptuous, I ordered out for a full spread from <a href="http://kolamiic.weebly.com/">Kolam Innovative Indian Cuisine</a>. After a plate-full of samosas, spring rolls, basmati rice, Kolam Signature Chicken Curry, Tikka Masala and Tandoori Chicken, the world was a beautiful place again. And, my headache was gone. I think <a href="http://tashadoestulsa.blogspot.com/2008/08/kolam-where-have-you-been-all-my-life.html">the food at Kolam</a> maybe has magical powers of healing and happiness. </div><div><br /></div><div>After lunch and a chilly trip to the park, my friends departed. What a weird, yet-wonderful, day. How better to cap it off than to extend that same theme into the evening with a trip to <a href="http://www.gardnersbooks.com/">Gardner's Used Books and Music</a>? </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SXKY-9TMvMI/AAAAAAAAAhc/wbenZ1AVe2s/s1600-h/DSC03333.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SXKY-9TMvMI/AAAAAAAAAhc/wbenZ1AVe2s/s400/DSC03333.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292460719488154818" border="0" /></a></div><div>That place, just south of the B.A. Expressway on Mingo, is the weird-yet-wonderful capital of the universe. </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SXKZH-CiJNI/AAAAAAAAAhk/Ciy63EPnamM/s1600-h/DSC03330.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SXKZH-CiJNI/AAAAAAAAAhk/Ciy63EPnamM/s400/DSC03330.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292460874305512658" border="0" /></a>The store boasts a collection of nearly two million gently used books, all shelved by category and sprawling about a half-acre. The two photos above are of just one shelf in the literature section and the section of books on local topics, respectively. </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SXKYp4U8fnI/AAAAAAAAAhU/_puwxWGsYl4/s1600-h/DSC03335.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SXKYp4U8fnI/AAAAAAAAAhU/_puwxWGsYl4/s400/DSC03335.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292460357376048754" border="0" /></a>Want paperbacks? Head to Gardner's, where you can stock up for next to nothing. </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SXKYZCeyCUI/AAAAAAAAAhM/R6ekalL7Q1U/s1600-h/DSC03336.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SXKYZCeyCUI/AAAAAAAAAhM/R6ekalL7Q1U/s400/DSC03336.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292460068043884866" border="0" /></a>Calling all comic books fans. And fans of CDs, DVDs, Blu Ray and a variety of collectibles, including dolls and bells. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, bells. Thousands of them. </div><div><br /></div><div>And, there's a coffee shop, Espresso by the Book. There's my husband and baby boy picking up the latest copy of <a href="http://www.urbantulsa.com">Urban Tulsa Weekly</a>. </div><div><br /><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SXKXyglEmyI/AAAAAAAAAg0/Bfqf8DjAoZA/s400/DSC03345.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292459406108433186" border="0" />Just when you're coddling your coffee and you think you've seen all there is to see, this opens up from a dark corner in the coffee shop:</div><div> <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SXKYSJpk-RI/AAAAAAAAAhE/y-El9AOBA9c/s1600-h/DSC03338.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SXKYSJpk-RI/AAAAAAAAAhE/y-El9AOBA9c/s400/DSC03338.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292459949709130002" border="0" /></a></div><div>The gateway to a heaven of obscure and often hilarious books. <br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SXKYJsOKPxI/AAAAAAAAAg8/NkG23r33WZE/s1600-h/DSC03339.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SXKYJsOKPxI/AAAAAAAAAg8/NkG23r33WZE/s400/DSC03339.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292459804370550546" border="0" /></a>This is the section of books on food and cooking, where I found titles such as "Woman's Day Encyclopedia of Cookery Vol. 5," copyright 1966, and "Whirlpool's Micro Menus Cookbook," copyright sometime during the days when microwaves the size of my conventional oven were going to save us all from the treachery of the kitchen. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SXKXrRsqwkI/AAAAAAAAAgs/vSd37A9tHrY/s1600-h/DSC03347.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SXKXrRsqwkI/AAAAAAAAAgs/vSd37A9tHrY/s400/DSC03347.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292459281854677570" border="0" /></a>I love children's books. I promise I'll never write one, though. The children's book section at Gardner's proves the world needs not more by anyone still living. The best ones were written (and illustrated) when my parents were kids. But, that's just one blogger's opinion. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SXKXcZWfV6I/AAAAAAAAAgc/wdGLD6ZT18E/s1600-h/DSC03351.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SXKXcZWfV6I/AAAAAAAAAgc/wdGLD6ZT18E/s400/DSC03351.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292459026211100578" border="0" /></a></div><div>Even so, our little one found a late model he just <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">had to have</span>. So, he threw his first public fit in the floor of the children's book section.  </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SXKXjTk-gxI/AAAAAAAAAgk/Y8NckSI4iSw/s1600-h/DSC03354.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SXKXjTk-gxI/AAAAAAAAAgk/Y8NckSI4iSw/s400/DSC03354.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292459144920335122" border="0" /></a>He won. We lost. Forever. </div><div><br /></div><div>Hours at Gardner's are Mon.-Fri., 10 a.m.-8 p.m.; Sat., 9 a.m.-8 p.m.; Sun., 12 p.m.-6 p.m.</div>