I love living here...

... because there are little antique shops and booths everywhere. And there are always people selling old, antique books. Case in point: Today I bought 6 Bobbsey Twins books for 6 GBP. Works out to be about $9.83 at today's exchange rate. So here is what my books look like.

I got volumes 1, 2, 6, 16, 45 and 46 and they are all from the 1955 print. According to my research they value between $6 and $14 a piece. So I paid about $1.64 a piece and I could sell them for at least $6 each, as if I'm ever going to part with them, that's what a 300% return if I am crunching the numbers right.

Anyway, the most exciting part for me is that I used to borrow these books along with Trixie Belden, Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys from my Grandma Bell. So, these books will always remind me of her. I'm so excited about seeing what other good finds I spot in the next 3 years.

Comments

michelle said…

I love finding books that I love as a child especially in vintage condition! Looks like you found some good ones!

November 4, 2008 at 3:40 PM

Being Dismissed from Services

I heard those dreaded words today. "I'm afraid that most likely your child doesn't qualify for services anymore." I paused afraid that if I responded too soon I'd yell or cry. I asked a few clarifying questions, blinking back tears of panic. I held my own for nearly the entire conversation. And then the therapist said, "You should be so proud, Mom. He's made so much progress." Then, I cried. The truth is he has made so much progress. The truth is I am very proud of him. Still, the truth is I hate hearing those words. Every time a specialist says to me that one of my children "no longer qualifies" for services, bile-like panic rises in my chest. "But he still has such anger issues," I said. And, "His impulsiveness gets in his way on a daily basis," I added. Doesn't she know? Can't she see the things I see? "I did tell you that he pulled a knife on his brother last week, didn't I?" Somehow she h...

Beautiful Disaster: His own brand of Awesome

Published on the Liahona Project, link here I took my oldest son back-to-school shopping the other day. It was.... awesome. sad. exciting. funny. inspiring. surprising. mama-heartbreaking. Big Brother was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome in 2009, when he was eight years old. It was years of evaluations and developmental preschools and speech therapists. Years of teachers bringing their concerns to me and me taking those concerns to doctors and, and, and... years of misdiagnoses. It was years of meltdowns and vomiting and aggression and wondering feet, running feet and hearing him say things like "I'm a bad son. I'm going to let a car hit me," as those feet took him out the front door. And then that moment, that singular sentence, "Your son is on the spectrum," that changed everything, that changed nothing. That bitter-sweet recognition that he was, in fact, atypical. And we've had years in between that the...

because he deserves his own post too

The surest way to bring tears to my eyes: in your moment of vulnerability, tell me you love me. I will feel honored, blessed beyond deserving and like the luckiest girl in the world. This is something my husband gets. I'm going to tread lightly with this next thought, because I love the freedom we have to write whatever is in our hearts and I don't want to heard as only saying I don't think women should be writing about women's issues... but, I have to say, it makes me sad how few articles, blog posts and even status updates there are praising the good men of the world. Good men, like my husband. Good men that work long hours at thankless jobs... just like their wives. Good men that pull double duty, going to school and working full-time... just like their wives. Good men that love their children, sacrifice daily for their happiness... just like their wives. Good men that are overwhelmed with the various and conflicting expectations placed...

This Side of Invisible

Search This Blog