Hello:

Welcome to catalog #203.

Shingletown, like the rest of the country for the past several weeks, has been colder than hell.  We haven't 
had a thaw in more than two weeks.  It was eighteen degrees when I woke up this morning.  It's not so bad.  
Cindy seems to do more baking and I do a bit more eating.  We both read a great deal more than we do in the summer.

Our stock room is about 1000 square feet sandwiched between the office and the garage.  Up until 
a few weeks ago we had no source of heat in the stock room.  Cindy has been on my case for more than 
a year to install a wood stove in the stock room so that she can shelve and pull books she needs to fill orders.  
She does the vast majority of the shelving and the pulling and I handle the processing and shipping.  
Last winter she had to put on a coat, hat and gloves to venture into the stock room.  This inconvenience and 
associated discomfort caused her to be. . . ah, occasionally unpleasant and irritable - with the person she 
held responsible for the situation.  Me.  Well, I'm very pleased and relieved to report that, along with a 
few caring and industrious neighbors, I've managed to successfully address this situation.  We can now hang 
out in the stock room in relative comfort.  A nifty little wood stove (given to us by another neighbor who 
took pity on Cindy) has been installed.  Our supply of wood has been moved to an easy access point, the 
chimney is up and the home fires are now burning.  What may seem like a relatively minor accomplishment 
has made a huge difference in our lives and has made Cindy's view of my humble abilities and concern for 
her well being change for the better. We've even been known to turn the furnace in the house off and 
retire to the stock room for
reading and relaxing.

I'm not huge on vulgarities although I will admit to using words like:  hell, damn, crap, ass and a 
few other colorful words with something approaching regularity.  And yes, I have been known (when the
dog pukes on the floor or when I smash my toe against the dresser attempting to navigate to the 
bathroom in the dark) to descend into the realm of more colorful language.  Occasionally this language
slips into our listings.  When it does, those listings get deleted from some more sensitive electronic
book -posting venues.  We lose sales.  I shall, therefore, attempt to refrain from such language in our
listings.  Rest assured, I still have strong feelings about elves, muscle-bound sword-wielders, one trick
ponies and holier-than-thou highbrows.  However, I will make a more concerted effort to describe these
feelings sans the colorful language.  Those feelings, that candor, and the language it evokes will
appear in the paper version of the catalog (the introduction) and not in the listings themselves.
Damn it!  That sucks!  Legislating clean language is not the responsibility of any person or
organization - even those greedy bastards that manage these on line bookselling venues.  May they 
gag on the same words that they find so objectionable.  I'll bet they go to church on Sunday (heads 
lowered in fake devotion) and then go home and beat their dogs and kick their cats.

I'd like to dedicate this catalog to our pal, MJ.  Mary Jane has been a good friend and patron 
for nearly thirty years.  She was both a loyal customer and regular correspondent all those years.  
She lives in Pennsylvania and we've never met, but I feel like I know her as well as if she were 
my sister.  She was a very avid reader with a taste for all manner of books.  She wouldn't buy 
expensive books, but she bought a lot of books.  She'd buy best sellers she could get cheaper at 
the mall from us.  She was a very devoted and exceptionally loyal patron.  She has a long dirt 
driveway and a neighbor with a horse.  She's told me more than once how she looked forward to the 
walk down the driveway to her mail box.  When she'd find a catalog, letter or package from us 
Ziesings she seemed genuinely thrilled.  She'd take a carrot or an apple to her four-footed friend 
and the entire process was one that meant a great deal to her.  We got a Christmas card from MJ 
that explained it would be her last communication.  The cancer has made it both impossible to 
read and impossible to write.  She told us that we mean a great deal to her and essentially said 
goodbye.  I've had to blow my nose twice while writing this last sentence.  MJ, we imagine 
you walking down another long country driveway and the horse, the mail box and everything else 
your heart desires will be waiting for you there.  It may seem strange to some for Cindy and I 
to come to genuinely love someone we've never met, but we've both come to love this woman deeply, 
our lives are better for having known her, and we'll love her forever.

We've got two cats and a dog.  I love the dog, despite his MANY problems.  The cats seem to like 
me, but I  don't have a great deal of affection for them.  Cindy is crazy about animals of all kinds.  
If she had her way we'd have a damn zoo here as well as a bookstore.  The last thing we need is another 
mouth to feed.  We've got one anyhow.  Meet Bella.  Bella is a dog.  Bella is a mutt.  Bella used to 
belong to a favored niece of ours.  Our niece has gone through some troubled times lately that have 
included a move and a divorce.  She loves Bella.  She loves us.  She asked if Bella could come live 
with us and we couldn't say no.  Bella seems like a good dog, is about seventy-five pounds.  Bella 
hails from Florida.  I think Bella may take a while to acclimate to the frosty wilds of Shingletown.  
Thus far, she seems only mildly confused and just a bit on the chilly side.  We're hoping Bella takes 
the edge off JD, our completely gonzo golden retriever.  She will be afforded this opportunity.  Now 
we've got cats and dogs all over the damn place, although ever since the stove's been installed, the 
cats seem to like the stock room better than the house.  I tell Cindy she's replacing all our children 
with animals.  I tell her that taking care of me and having me sit on her lap should satisfy.  She 
tells me to shut up and take out the trash.  I respond to years of training much better than JD or Bella.  
I hear and I obey.  

We are in the market for quality books.  I've finally managed to clear the decks of most of the 
books that landed here this past year by way of collections purchased or books that we've traded.  
If you've got some quality books you'd like to trade - now would be a great time to get them off to 
us.  I believe I can make you a deal that will make you happy. 

Maybe it's a lesson I learned from CHEAPER BY THE DOZEN. Maybe I'm just compulsive or, can it be, 
even genuinely strange.  Maybe I'm just a natural born multi-tasker.  Regardless, I seem to be fond 
of performing several chores simultaneously when the situation permits.  I ain't no saint, but as 
you folks know I attend Mass quite regularly and occasionally sing in the choir.  I go largely because 
it makes Cindy happy, but also to ask forgiveness for all the crummy stuff I've done during the week.  
I was slated to sing a few weeks ago.  Fine.  I go to start the car five minutes early so that Cindy 
and I can ride in relative comfort.  It happened to be quite cold that Sunday morning.  While the car 
was warming up I figured I'd empty my bladder.  So I go to the side of the garage near a stand of 
trees and begin to conduct business.  I get about half way through my chore when I look up to see an 
older couple walking down the road.  Not wishing to appear to be a crass and vulgar person prone to 
empting his bladder in plain view I hurriedly try and put myself back together.  I was almost 
successful.  While walking back toward the car I notice a wet spot on my black pants about the size 
of a silver dollar.  Damn it!  What to do.  We had to go.  I didn't have time to take off my shoes 
and change my pants.  I rush into the house unbutton myself and shove Cindy's hair dryer down the 
front of my pants.  Cindy wonders where I've gone and comes looking.  She opens the bathroom door 
to find me with the hair dryer shoved down the front of my pants and a rather desperate look on my 
face.  Before I can explain she asks, in a most curious voice, just exactly what in the hell I'm 
doing.  She rolled her eyes and stomped off before I had the chance to explain.  I'm not sure she 
bought my story, saying something about what a desperate bozo I am, but I think I've got her 
believing it now.  For what it's worth, this method of. . . rectifying a situation like this 
(in the extremely unlikely event you ever find yourself in similar circumstances) works very 
well - at least when you're wearing black pants.  I sang in the choir, looked like an angel and 
nobody had a clue that just a few minutes before this choir boy had a hair dryer down his pants.

We're desperate for money.  We desperately need to sell more books.  We desperately need to buy 
and trade for quality books of any kind.  We're desperate for floor space that isn't occupied by 
a lounging cat or dog.  We desperately need to find a way to locate like-minded readers and 
bibliophiles.  But we're not desperate for love.  We seem to have that in spades.  I don't care 
if it is egotistical, but we love a great many people and we know we're loved by a great many in 
return.  If I had to choose, and in some respects I do, I'd choose love every time.  It's more 
satisfying, even when it comes in the form of a four-footed, furry pain in the ass.  Please be 
advised that all you faithful friends and patrons out there are valued.  Highly valued.  Whenever 
I get to feeling too sorry for myself, I look at Cindy, I look at the books, I think about the 
people that trade with us.  I think about MJ and people like her.  I pat JD and Bella on the 
head and even show some love to those creepy cats.  Our lives are made better by the people and 
animals that are in it.

Thank you!

Mark & Cindy Ziesing