spoons

Today I looked at my house and realized that Walter had about three cubic feet of space to move around. Because my floor was filthy. I got to work.

This burst of energy led me to my dishwasher. My dishwasher full of bowls and spoons. Soup spoons to be exact.

I know it is summer. The heat of the day sneaking in through my windows reminds me all day long. But I love soup. It warms my heart and soul. When nothing is going right, I eat some soup.

The husband thinks I am crazy.

I am going to go eat a bowl of soup. Because I can.

what's life but a series of what ifs?

We purchased a steal of a table yesterday that I am already in love with. As a result, our black table is up for grabs on the standard sites. A woman called me today and asked me for my table. And my chairs. My chairs which were not for sale.

I thought,

"What if I sell the chairs. I could get the chairs I want sooner."
"What if JL gets mad at me because we don't have the money."
"What if this lady just wants to sell MY chairs for more than she got them."
"What if I sold the chairs for more than I got them." ($15 to be exact)
"What if I stopped thinking about this and told her to find her own chairs."

in very rapid succession.

I didn't give her my chairs. They are mine.


And yet, sometimes I want this whole place to burn down while we're out running errands so that I can de-clutter my life and not have my preteen journals anymore.

just me, my books, and my double gulp of sprite

I'm a reader. This facet of my personality has been in place since I was a wee one sitting on my mother's bed reading Horton Hatches the Egg by the all knowing Dr. Seuss. I love books. Nothing can go wrong if I have a good book in my bag. A book for a present will never be turned down.

I especially love used books. And libraries. They smell like the homes of grandparents the world over.

In my life I have read A LOT of books. I spent the last three years of my pre-married life as a nanny. Then I got smart and got a kid of my own. Do you know how quickly kids get tired of having the same story read to them? (Unless it is a favorite) Here's a hint: Walter and I go through about 15 books per week.

I am not a genre snob. I will read anything: non-fiction, general fiction, science fiction, young adult fiction, children's books, mysteries...wait. I take that back. I avoid romance novels.

I have no shame in fighting children for books at the library. In fact, right now I have three books on hold that are children's literature. No shame.

I do not fault an author for writing a book that I just don't like. And if he writes another book, I'll give it a go. I do fault an author for two books that should never have been published. And sometimes, I fault their editors and the people who read them. (You know who you are, Eragon series editor.)

I have favorites that I will always go back to and I live to laugh at David Sedaris' work. Good gracious man alive I live to read his work. I also live to read the Arts section of The New York Times.

So when I ate three bites of bad chicken last night and spent the rest of the evening feeling the effects, I happily finished The Soloist by Mark Salzman and picked up the second book in Rick Riordan's series Percy Jackson & The Olympians.*

*This is in no way an endorsement for rotten chicken and in every way an endorsement for The Soloist by Mark Salzman. One I wish I was getting paid for so I could go buy non-rotten chicken.