tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84793728042529371022024-02-18T22:27:15.027-05:00Always ReadingAvid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.comBlogger103125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-3941665984685731042009-05-21T12:01:00.001-04:002009-05-21T12:01:00.531-04:00Your Vacation Destination<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC3AVpZT_Jfx4GK8936dgvKIzoqGaubIiHx6gUWQZN1IZOacYJOwyCEz73Y-F7YmuknH3WzAIWigzRu_L8WPBN7sBteTynPLAdeZ3X7w-eWMyUjWFQ6VUqKqTguLsXM6uX71PJWlRSTJf4/s1600-h/vacation+dude.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 309px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC3AVpZT_Jfx4GK8936dgvKIzoqGaubIiHx6gUWQZN1IZOacYJOwyCEz73Y-F7YmuknH3WzAIWigzRu_L8WPBN7sBteTynPLAdeZ3X7w-eWMyUjWFQ6VUqKqTguLsXM6uX71PJWlRSTJf4/s400/vacation+dude.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337521566691515730" /></a>Dude! Where are you going on vacation?<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHqfO_rqSscQGAP-VUAqtUm9eJHq9XT7GzPLFdzPaaJdfGopv9J70qoNqTzVqOqnR5t7aOC5FdskJdfIRCtSFAB3To8TXxSUS9UF-HSBZlT0JNhhiJWKh0jrhLak8TJg0PWjU1512vzkCa/s1600-h/minn.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 245px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHqfO_rqSscQGAP-VUAqtUm9eJHq9XT7GzPLFdzPaaJdfGopv9J70qoNqTzVqOqnR5t7aOC5FdskJdfIRCtSFAB3To8TXxSUS9UF-HSBZlT0JNhhiJWKh0jrhLak8TJg0PWjU1512vzkCa/s400/minn.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337521562332383570" /></a>Say hello to Al Franken while you're there.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmam6qyClYSiz9PRHNxn1OManenAcW1A1kb9Wksia6aoabCfk5YskaRXFnTDTqVFeSj8l5tmFEGdiefIpl5HSJvsv3rUCFs9grPDIgAfO4jPk_xqDJeCCxwHIwo2EM7dmsT2TlA1Xgonx7/s1600-h/bermu.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 204px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmam6qyClYSiz9PRHNxn1OManenAcW1A1kb9Wksia6aoabCfk5YskaRXFnTDTqVFeSj8l5tmFEGdiefIpl5HSJvsv3rUCFs9grPDIgAfO4jPk_xqDJeCCxwHIwo2EM7dmsT2TlA1Xgonx7/s400/bermu.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337521552752213058" /></a>Can absorb cares.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmdiKMYbF0yY4ZbvOAc-NWQIWG_y7U9ueqyFX-AQuOFMVlrXJOtFWpB2PMZg_B8Hk7SDZjqeU3_qs7XJozkvdsbUfq7i43MYIV32FTeT3CzKHrSZvYeH8N_D1lV4eSKypBpH0xEgFUoBIg/s1600-h/kent.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 247px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmdiKMYbF0yY4ZbvOAc-NWQIWG_y7U9ueqyFX-AQuOFMVlrXJOtFWpB2PMZg_B8Hk7SDZjqeU3_qs7XJozkvdsbUfq7i43MYIV32FTeT3CzKHrSZvYeH8N_D1lV4eSKypBpH0xEgFUoBIg/s400/kent.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337521541856237618" /></a>Dressed up for you!<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS3aQEg-UUrJTcM08vpm3eGEGcVeC2tTAalQvFc7kM2J9dW0TmLSyuvOZL9Vvith0vonmLYbKiyGxmUavQDS27Vkq6Bh91Kt1-R-9X4VTvSU4atC3b-U8EgUJr6vwxiLUTy68EH9AwrG-A/s1600-h/tenn.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 312px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS3aQEg-UUrJTcM08vpm3eGEGcVeC2tTAalQvFc7kM2J9dW0TmLSyuvOZL9Vvith0vonmLYbKiyGxmUavQDS27Vkq6Bh91Kt1-R-9X4VTvSU4atC3b-U8EgUJr6vwxiLUTy68EH9AwrG-A/s400/tenn.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337521541606859954" /></a>The most interesting state.Avid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-17594648254907470862009-05-13T09:00:00.003-04:002009-05-13T17:20:40.351-04:00Reading Chris Walken's Thoughts<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHOGDrl4mtUQT3kJi5Yztj5yWXpH5LRncfMuY1i9Ih90ljHpGYB8_wHkgl23FzRKI9D6p3motWAKF9gbcg9AMQC7DB3kG0qH6su6KUAgKy6UOZqF36Jhl50EXscW0gPaIo4hruKJkCPZnr/s1600-h/photo+by+yang.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 308px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHOGDrl4mtUQT3kJi5Yztj5yWXpH5LRncfMuY1i9Ih90ljHpGYB8_wHkgl23FzRKI9D6p3motWAKF9gbcg9AMQC7DB3kG0qH6su6KUAgKy6UOZqF36Jhl50EXscW0gPaIo4hruKJkCPZnr/s400/photo+by+yang.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335293135707409234" /></a>I think he's marvelous. (photo by Yang)<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4lbI3xpzuUHlNkDGTYSgl1IsPhGLgFEITHHZ7XkRl-hdMHte7jmNC6hWDfn2Vzk_EJ6NaWLaP92Acgaiq8XRbwzAiuMVD3_q59ANpfwfar-XmTEHfsMYGdB4l0dm6wM8eaKD7tos-z7G9/s1600-h/Chris+1.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4lbI3xpzuUHlNkDGTYSgl1IsPhGLgFEITHHZ7XkRl-hdMHte7jmNC6hWDfn2Vzk_EJ6NaWLaP92Acgaiq8XRbwzAiuMVD3_q59ANpfwfar-XmTEHfsMYGdB4l0dm6wM8eaKD7tos-z7G9/s400/Chris+1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335292960340239810" /></a>The cat inspired the question mark?<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEMQeTEs-9r9voXP4hlJy-P-DZjY8Pmrt7eb92pWxhIzKbrXbjhhj9ZxZX6ETbb-loY2XG9qHPfdpz_fEe7n7FybTdEJDzOLIvj916z_TDzuPUEb8RMvdo3DL9nwj98hdt-1n_7s5opxV5/s1600-h/chris+2.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEMQeTEs-9r9voXP4hlJy-P-DZjY8Pmrt7eb92pWxhIzKbrXbjhhj9ZxZX6ETbb-loY2XG9qHPfdpz_fEe7n7FybTdEJDzOLIvj916z_TDzuPUEb8RMvdo3DL9nwj98hdt-1n_7s5opxV5/s400/chris+2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335292827477276930" /></a>I can't take zoos at all either. Depressing no matter how fine they are. ( Cat hairs on this post are courtesy of Eddy.)<br /><br /><br />Chris Walken is one of my favorite actors --ever. <span style="font-style:italic;">ever</span>. He's up there with Marlon Brando and Gary Cooper in my favorite list. He's my favorite thing in the movie Annie Hall (it's a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BGPcSd7DDLk">small scene</a> but wonderful)Avid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-90384364275214119342009-05-05T01:50:00.000-04:002009-05-05T13:53:54.403-04:00Poor Unread Books!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9mH9UdZCRn0K40JqpdLSWKNK-hxaFuxZjIVTTtT8NWN-H41pOpcVWar3HDLsuzigemkARfA5xl8UUf7J6HJNM1sU3au48sfVKlC_LQSsZ5Ue_5mMoj6a5dACF17A_yA5v5F99y6yGiF5p/s1600-h/L1480762.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9mH9UdZCRn0K40JqpdLSWKNK-hxaFuxZjIVTTtT8NWN-H41pOpcVWar3HDLsuzigemkARfA5xl8UUf7J6HJNM1sU3au48sfVKlC_LQSsZ5Ue_5mMoj6a5dACF17A_yA5v5F99y6yGiF5p/s400/L1480762.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332030719612533970" /></a>Just one small group of books on the endangered shelf.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm071cyxX9Ouf1lTStiT3XXUt6h4EFL1uaKkO0I9OEHI-Vly6-iWNEffRSsG4pL5L1BybUny7DHN3Il3XNe4j72PHVfUjV-Pi_zNMzufYNIUhaVjIu-xOihNZWXwF0V7D1frnOM5wVVotc/s1600-h/L1480760.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 271px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm071cyxX9Ouf1lTStiT3XXUt6h4EFL1uaKkO0I9OEHI-Vly6-iWNEffRSsG4pL5L1BybUny7DHN3Il3XNe4j72PHVfUjV-Pi_zNMzufYNIUhaVjIu-xOihNZWXwF0V7D1frnOM5wVVotc/s400/L1480760.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332028200577927618" /></a>Some gems can be considered losers... this explains why our local thrift shop gets withdrawn books that got loads of great reviews from <span style="font-style:italic;">The Guardian</span> and <span style="font-style:italic;">Kirkus</span>, and are like ... unread! Very sad.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs6eRrotJPxDA2cxJvlWboJtcoRsVjzB_d_ycbLn5Nz8Ogi78VmveOoCv3MbYB1buQ2hTflcV54f7ZN6e7Nlu8gJPDMdIySwVqTgeL3juNZlz9jzLd8iBzc1RnQ5kV8ca06JTR7sYfEyeW/s1600-h/L1480770.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs6eRrotJPxDA2cxJvlWboJtcoRsVjzB_d_ycbLn5Nz8Ogi78VmveOoCv3MbYB1buQ2hTflcV54f7ZN6e7Nlu8gJPDMdIySwVqTgeL3juNZlz9jzLd8iBzc1RnQ5kV8ca06JTR7sYfEyeW/s400/L1480770.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332028191823475298" /></a>Blimey! I read bits of this in the library and thought... Geeez! Obviously inspired by Jane Austen, but a bit <span style="font-style:italic;">too much</span>~ Filled with run-on sentences that are packed with information. <br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwNEKx4h-WkygbvRirRixuOOrDPtGq5IVZBXLTuqPjoB7-8oEtMFtyk299igop4isn2Zd9OEM0M5JntIuYfIdxR8NDL5QH8k6wV1Vksm9OfKDhTY2qqXblfpSEl6lbge3wRbXDKrwf0dZ_/s1600-h/L1480771.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwNEKx4h-WkygbvRirRixuOOrDPtGq5IVZBXLTuqPjoB7-8oEtMFtyk299igop4isn2Zd9OEM0M5JntIuYfIdxR8NDL5QH8k6wV1Vksm9OfKDhTY2qqXblfpSEl6lbge3wRbXDKrwf0dZ_/s400/L1480771.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332028183401567538" /></a>This person wrote a number of books too, is she familiar to anyone? I'd rather re-read Jane than spend time on this one. Now I feel bad for saying that, and should give it a go.Avid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-63122120188348129322009-04-28T08:33:00.007-04:002009-04-28T09:23:49.876-04:00Bookstores, Blurbs, Beginnings<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA71iSZDpP1Ci6TVhdIr7CFCr9lIl6TqGnIF2TnUxQHsiVW1jY0yHaWcM74Eu8CzvpbWATRCBnrYI8p7ZiFfGONQMATD8sfuc93rPdHDpMYlGUUIYGKBGylSPSMocscJqpvYnsZOt043kD/s1600-h/if+you+lived.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 272px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA71iSZDpP1Ci6TVhdIr7CFCr9lIl6TqGnIF2TnUxQHsiVW1jY0yHaWcM74Eu8CzvpbWATRCBnrYI8p7ZiFfGONQMATD8sfuc93rPdHDpMYlGUUIYGKBGylSPSMocscJqpvYnsZOt043kD/s400/if+you+lived.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329720511339256626" /></a>I was at a bookstore and saw these "If You Lived..." books. If you lived in Colonial times... or if you lived back when Martin Luther King was still alive. Makes you think. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ZrkGK5yTNvk6zo9cCtReeorXVJhgzloiDvu4XLbi7e66wN-AZ20_DyutiYIZpyCGSpVbiTcahQiKU19ftMnUrqwHXMdhnNXZYMibLA3Nmb59q27LXPMwUYigsJ2NQMEJank7fcwvnt6k/s1600-h/big+raffle.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 296px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ZrkGK5yTNvk6zo9cCtReeorXVJhgzloiDvu4XLbi7e66wN-AZ20_DyutiYIZpyCGSpVbiTcahQiKU19ftMnUrqwHXMdhnNXZYMibLA3Nmb59q27LXPMwUYigsJ2NQMEJank7fcwvnt6k/s400/big+raffle.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329720507367019042" /></a>I finished all of the books I was reading sort of all at once. It felt that way. Now I started 3 new books, <span style="font-style:italic;">Mr. Pip</span> by Lloyd Jones, <span style="font-style:italic;">The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency </span>by Alexander McCall Smith, and <span style="font-style:italic;">An Old Fashioned Girl </span>by Louisa May Alcott. I'm finding less time to read, I'm on the road more, so I was smart enough to get all three books on Kindle where I can keep them all in one place. (In the past weeks I was carrying a lot of books around, or it felt like I was, I would forget I left <span style="font-style:italic;">Stargazey</span> in the car, and would hike someplace and have to read something else, and I was worried about losing or damaging a library book since all the ones I checked out were in pristine condition.)<br /><br />I found two more novels at the thrift shop: <span style="font-style:italic;">The Concrete Pillow</span> a mystery by Ronald Tierney and <span style="font-style:italic;">Coast to Coast </span>by Frederic Raphael ... and I almost passed on <span style="font-style:italic;">Coast to Coast</span> until I saw a blurb on the back: <br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"Bleakly enjoyable, and filled with some really terrifically hateful conversations</span>." ~ The Guardian<br /><br /> You don't see that kind of blurb everyday. <br /><br />Once I got the book home I saw that the the author also wrote some screenplays and this book is sort of a companion to his 1967 dialogue for the Audrey Hepburn film "Two for the Road" - a film I like a lot. I haven't started on this novel yet. I can juggle many books, but not too comfortably if I start them all at the same time. <br /><br />It's weird enough to be <span style="font-style:italic;">at the beginning</span> of 3 books, without starting 2 more. I usually stagger things so this doesn't happen. Summer slows me way down too, lots of activity and pleasant distractions. Winter is my prime reading time.<br />One of the reasons I started the blog was I noticed I was reading a lot less last summer. I'm glad for the Virtual Book Club, too.Avid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-82242281639260978902009-04-23T11:04:00.007-04:002009-04-23T11:54:09.932-04:00Messy Reading<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7GzHNvPbP5Fzb9bWkvUAaszI8gr1U2QOziZ1JDa7wqdu1IkrmJrqlWxuWuGDOY1nV3RSLkzTxWDIP2d0WwycsqPA_gDefcElqKczkvI6urkosbiWjOn7F71K5lOR8Sbz9Glm8WXeVdPR2/s1600-h/PG.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 293px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7GzHNvPbP5Fzb9bWkvUAaszI8gr1U2QOziZ1JDa7wqdu1IkrmJrqlWxuWuGDOY1nV3RSLkzTxWDIP2d0WwycsqPA_gDefcElqKczkvI6urkosbiWjOn7F71K5lOR8Sbz9Glm8WXeVdPR2/s400/PG.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327904821914015058" /></a>I got a postcard with a picture of P.G. Wodehouse on it, so I made a little shrine to reading - the candle was too bright so a put a bottle in front of it. I really enjoyed the banana book and the Sedaris essays. Coal is interesting too (half done with that one.) I haven't started the Edith Wharton novel yet, but it's hard to leave a library empty handed. I have a mess of books to finish and am currently reading one I found in a dusty pile at a thrift shop. "I am Mary Dunne" a novel by Brian Moore. (1966.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXNDh7dyTLHYFEGhKt6PJYOS7RJ_vGKzM-I9hYG88Ie1Lqbp3ptqdfQaixRp3MPbIqKWKjeAUzrsKNVeFHvCMFK1cZPswk-CR4-UrpykVEAlO0o73XO7Y3M81m4CZx3HTavohvw3CG2kM4/s1600-h/typo+.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 271px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXNDh7dyTLHYFEGhKt6PJYOS7RJ_vGKzM-I9hYG88Ie1Lqbp3ptqdfQaixRp3MPbIqKWKjeAUzrsKNVeFHvCMFK1cZPswk-CR4-UrpykVEAlO0o73XO7Y3M81m4CZx3HTavohvw3CG2kM4/s400/typo+.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327904815417288754" /></a>I found a typo in my copy of Stargazey... can you see it?<br />Typos used to really bug me when I was a teen, now I just shrug them off.<span style="font-style:italic;"> I don't care.</span> In my early twenties, I caught a typo ( one that everyone missed and it cost the company much $$$$$$$. ) I came back from vacation, glanced at a series of ads I'd had nothing to do with, and saw the same typo in the body copy of each one. I said "Er, in this sentence it says <span style="font-style:italic;">Pam</span> Am Airlines instead of Pan Am!" To make matters worse / funnier, the head of the copy department was a woman named <span style="font-style:italic;">Pam</span>. Ultimately, she was responsible. A dozen of her people had proofed that ad, and she had too. Proofing is not that easy. <br />That was the turning point for me, I began to think typos were funny little gremlins and was no longer outraged by them. <br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsyeKBaUgLEfpKtm4ylioz6w9L8ZQWXtLPGjC7MbIuGlII3lhlzpDNyho-_1e9oWc2yZqJxKqW307e9323ZSZaYRov3sSzFogQzMYBm3nyZsSM3qsNPW6AapDgTuskIsK3xSnY3IL0XgFz/s1600-h/butter+dish.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsyeKBaUgLEfpKtm4ylioz6w9L8ZQWXtLPGjC7MbIuGlII3lhlzpDNyho-_1e9oWc2yZqJxKqW307e9323ZSZaYRov3sSzFogQzMYBm3nyZsSM3qsNPW6AapDgTuskIsK3xSnY3IL0XgFz/s400/butter+dish.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327904813084107698" /></a><br />I prefer to read about crazed spring cleaning days rather than actually having one myself. Thankfully I'm married to a person who finds those super obsessively neat women boring. We like neatness, but we also like pillows and hairy pets and book piles and people hanging out. My neighbor is obsessively neat and just thinks the world of her sanitized self. It is kind of VERY uncomfortable over there, but then I'm sure she disapproves of my casual approach to cleaning and defense of certain germs.Avid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-63200994197061796372009-04-20T09:43:00.010-04:002009-04-20T10:26:59.447-04:00Reading Others<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikDAKjakPbDUPixP38s5zlqzXbL0jU3sC32FGqZ6fJg1BFJHnI4YejmSi4WWYFdlmuXyk3S3wBNP42qo8d01u0jsCx9rVK7e8jnfw1wL3n6URlhDJYF0E-pB8pMm2wPcek2Q5TFd_d9zba/s1600-h/L1420527.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikDAKjakPbDUPixP38s5zlqzXbL0jU3sC32FGqZ6fJg1BFJHnI4YejmSi4WWYFdlmuXyk3S3wBNP42qo8d01u0jsCx9rVK7e8jnfw1wL3n6URlhDJYF0E-pB8pMm2wPcek2Q5TFd_d9zba/s400/L1420527.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326773585174021826" /></a>Read this most interesting book on <span style="font-style:italic;">Kindness</span>. Seems like I'm surrounded by opportunities. People are always misunderstanding others - it seems we cut people little slack anymore. I learned that whining and ranting are extremely popular nowadays, and that they are kind of dead ends if overdone. Revenge is a very scary dead end. I once asked an acquaintance what he would do with a million dollars and he said "<span style="font-style:italic;">First off, I'd have my enemies dealt with</span>!" Yikes. And he was serious. Am I old fashioned for not having any enemies? Is someone out there eyeing <span style="font-style:italic;">me</span> as their enemy? Does someone perceive me as a self centered, rude, unkind jerk? Am I just a couple of blue funks away from being denounced?<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJPdSbQ5Ct07YA6Wo8b_DRFljep4THnogMr7K1eTYZGUjmiIkqRwCasnZnRY69AqDOjtw3nLvR8lHWtSHx8GkWarRAutkh1I9vMvAkiEJR6W_lHDeGdanVJGowW6aAj2VcvCotEHRgjfgP/s1600-h/L1370597.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 191px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJPdSbQ5Ct07YA6Wo8b_DRFljep4THnogMr7K1eTYZGUjmiIkqRwCasnZnRY69AqDOjtw3nLvR8lHWtSHx8GkWarRAutkh1I9vMvAkiEJR6W_lHDeGdanVJGowW6aAj2VcvCotEHRgjfgP/s400/L1370597.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326772060099084354" /></a>Things I never knew about O'Connor. (From The Financial Times Book Section.)<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVhqYZco-CWp1aj11TvLDRL66s4R9dNRTBKUHyk8Kwl7qohPikMFotW1pzMy8nflQGF0QWbvSF3S0mrgzP1SwWX47vjoJHjzNncwFQ4kiTlmxPQwZoB4V8wmqdNvhdIpudcRwTKfUUusTw/s1600-h/L1420531.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVhqYZco-CWp1aj11TvLDRL66s4R9dNRTBKUHyk8Kwl7qohPikMFotW1pzMy8nflQGF0QWbvSF3S0mrgzP1SwWX47vjoJHjzNncwFQ4kiTlmxPQwZoB4V8wmqdNvhdIpudcRwTKfUUusTw/s400/L1420531.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326772059496074786" /></a>It was an eye opening book. Just when you think you have some subject figured out... you realize you don't at all.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz-XcI9OYHHF_kSB9g3kRkp1wKTbbsp3-r9lwL9U2A3Q4jZ9nn9Xk0-snD9sj5do0Vy7z-tXa6RIHtW99JNwNaZ7bZn6TPDmnwdur-Jcgpu1gCvkObzkTnpz7j_ld0IAaCRZuJui5oJVip/s1600-h/L1370605.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 233px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz-XcI9OYHHF_kSB9g3kRkp1wKTbbsp3-r9lwL9U2A3Q4jZ9nn9Xk0-snD9sj5do0Vy7z-tXa6RIHtW99JNwNaZ7bZn6TPDmnwdur-Jcgpu1gCvkObzkTnpz7j_ld0IAaCRZuJui5oJVip/s400/L1370605.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326772053570655346" /></a>Ants in America<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8n679yyJZBvq7zn9VFdlpVMqhNFPwQagJWvdCn9Eoq0SIVzppNuAF93z4ZMHqFtqHSGarc37RTus_xqJawqTss6rRITLaCRUTOi5uIkIZsF7HRWM8RKRvuWoRPKWyo7dsZduDosLlL-je/s1600-h/L1450066.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8n679yyJZBvq7zn9VFdlpVMqhNFPwQagJWvdCn9Eoq0SIVzppNuAF93z4ZMHqFtqHSGarc37RTus_xqJawqTss6rRITLaCRUTOi5uIkIZsF7HRWM8RKRvuWoRPKWyo7dsZduDosLlL-je/s400/L1450066.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326772049078956514" /></a>The Library has one small sex shelf, but not an entire sex section. Shouldn't there be a whole room full of books on the subject? A lot of people out there doing it ~ they may need books!<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJvsDUxA2gVslnxMUn6Imrx6UKfZWvIFvXVFTt9t6khALry6pZ40Kz3EaC3vZRPjX1pju4f48JzjJKmK07qMnz7hTKVg3Ujlst4Vo8Gp1xI-vV37pCrEb5S_uRqIM9DirKO2o-7mjQMgUN/s1600-h/L1370553.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJvsDUxA2gVslnxMUn6Imrx6UKfZWvIFvXVFTt9t6khALry6pZ40Kz3EaC3vZRPjX1pju4f48JzjJKmK07qMnz7hTKVg3Ujlst4Vo8Gp1xI-vV37pCrEb5S_uRqIM9DirKO2o-7mjQMgUN/s400/L1370553.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326772041635126978" /></a>The Old Paris Review Interviews are interesting.Avid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-73418786240391873952009-04-15T17:01:00.002-04:002009-04-15T20:20:45.231-04:00Almost Thursday Reading<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGHvn0TawBLPPd3j15_FdxSFEishBXBZACU9drrWM0dRUarpFkOJno6sWeA5nsiGbBPr_MAqqwlydxRKYa8d1twUFtze24yU39UtTTyiYMmMFMiz29Jg5ipwX50i3vqYwD1Kij10pnr3pb/s1600-h/growth.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 293px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGHvn0TawBLPPd3j15_FdxSFEishBXBZACU9drrWM0dRUarpFkOJno6sWeA5nsiGbBPr_MAqqwlydxRKYa8d1twUFtze24yU39UtTTyiYMmMFMiz29Jg5ipwX50i3vqYwD1Kij10pnr3pb/s400/growth.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324942665492534866" /></a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">" I do not know how to express the admiration I feel for this wonderful book without seeming to be extravagant. I am usually not lavish with my praise, but indeed the book impresses me as among the very greatest novels I have ever read. It is wholly beautiful; it is saturated with wisdom and humor and tenderness." ~ H.G. Wells</span><br /><br /><br />Poor Contemptible Knut Hamsen (born Knud Pedersen in 1859 ) He wins a Nobel Prize in 1920, has written a couple of great books (Hunger, The Growth of the Soil) and then at about seventy years of age begins to act out in both violent and demented ways. In his eighties, frail and nearly deaf, he meets with Adolf Hitler and sees Hitler as a really nice guy. He sends his Nobel Prize to Goebbels as a gift, and angry Norwegians burn Hamsen's books. I read a bit of a biography of Hamsen and had to put it down--it was too depressing. Clearly he had become unhinged and paranoid in his golden years, but people didn't see it as mental illness back then. He was simply a traitor. I didn't know about Hamsen's craziness until I'd read and enjoyed three of his novels. My Norwegian friends tell me he was a great writer who suffered from early onset dementia and appeared to be both lucid and angry at times. Others argue he simply took on a whole new personality, believed himself to be reborn, and was quite sane. Max Von Sydow, who played Hamsen in a film said that the writer was both naive and pitiable. He had isolated himself and lost touch long before he became a contemptible fellow. <br /><br />I hope I die before my brain crumbles and I do something really terribly horribly stupid.<br /><br /> I still can't believe he gave Goebbels his Nobel Prize for Literature... that just freaks me out. <br /><br />~~~~~<br /><br /><br />The Appalachian Trail book: This is just a guidebook to tramping through... not that I would ever want to walk the entire trail. I'm happy enough to spend little bits of time on it here and there ~ so far I've walked a few dozen miles of it in Pennsylvania and New York. (not counting the miles of it I've traveled over & over again in New York.) <br /><br /> I haven't kept track, and I'm <span style="font-style:italic;">not</span> always up for a hurried scramble either, although I have hiked with groups that do that, and will definitely hike with them again. I prefer to stop and observe a lot of little things, but sometimes with the group it's more about how many miles you can go in eight hours or so, especially when some of the people have to get home by a certain time. I'm a little less enthusiastic about crawling and climbing through places nicknamed <span style="font-style:italic;">the squeezer</span> or <span style="font-style:italic;">the agony</span> than I was when I was a kid, but then what I consider a <span style="font-style:italic;">thrill</span> has changed a bit since I was ten years old. <br /><br />I take a book with me, since some hiking groups like an hour long lunch stop / rest period. I usually take a novel.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8UyQSIS9BOLDqdcRiZyG0BLHB8qPs6d_zD3zg5Q1V4GfWJsDd0664Bg9_CscSlnTiU66NEk0iXd6NVwooUPR_TAVHOMEQv3ogEEW7hN6Ees2PaeLqgwuDSUawj28Y8YAKiIObpoE2A0RW/s1600-h/must+read.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 302px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8UyQSIS9BOLDqdcRiZyG0BLHB8qPs6d_zD3zg5Q1V4GfWJsDd0664Bg9_CscSlnTiU66NEk0iXd6NVwooUPR_TAVHOMEQv3ogEEW7hN6Ees2PaeLqgwuDSUawj28Y8YAKiIObpoE2A0RW/s400/must+read.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324942413792894786" /></a> This film is coming to my town and I hope to see it. A kind of domestic horror movie -- an eerie call from beyond the grave. Creepy.<br /><br /><br /><br />Note:<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">To find out who wrote the description of New Orleans in the last post, I discovered through another blogger that all you had to do was google the first line! It was a page from Bob Dylan's memoir. <br /></span>Avid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-43675709297538261582009-04-08T07:50:00.017-04:002009-04-08T15:50:12.630-04:00Places in Reading<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpdJgmq3mCJj9-ozVcnIGlZva9S2P1i0aBNh3YbxPp6MWMdgG3MUgnB7A2J6iY3kvfcT9RPped70I2davHRMxWWKyZHGLt8DAIRF4cl2A8jYIvbGi-sKCh417TPfsNNGWVcXANc-ZrJDEV/s1600-h/front.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 270px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpdJgmq3mCJj9-ozVcnIGlZva9S2P1i0aBNh3YbxPp6MWMdgG3MUgnB7A2J6iY3kvfcT9RPped70I2davHRMxWWKyZHGLt8DAIRF4cl2A8jYIvbGi-sKCh417TPfsNNGWVcXANc-ZrJDEV/s400/front.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322290184090880882" /></a>I go through definite phases in my reading, where I might read several books sequentially. I went through a travel book phase once ~ mainly books on France. France is an endlessly fascinating place. But I also enjoy reading about places like Antarctica.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixdLlprWDgHcSoCSpBmmOFLqVYJdceRLqjX14_xcKsBbIHPqLIfkYS4q3JlN_zHqS61kUDz-nSZ3tgIDqfA3GnbMJzQs16LH-vkdYC_8DbXHiJE3XxNS3SSzTSL5QLRrbYeXH5xhk_Ly82/s1600-h/a+var.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 296px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixdLlprWDgHcSoCSpBmmOFLqVYJdceRLqjX14_xcKsBbIHPqLIfkYS4q3JlN_zHqS61kUDz-nSZ3tgIDqfA3GnbMJzQs16LH-vkdYC_8DbXHiJE3XxNS3SSzTSL5QLRrbYeXH5xhk_Ly82/s400/a+var.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322293107664887346" /></a>But there's always something else going on ~ even as a kid, I would read a variety of things. I pretty much indulge in this type of reading every week. A classic, a memoir, something spiritual, a big adventure story, a fun book, a food book, a <span style="font-style:italic;">how to </span>book, some sort of travel guide, plus assorted newspapers and magazines. Once I've gotten a good start into each book and decided, yes, this is something I want to spend time with, then I know I'll finish the book. I could read them one at a time, much in the same way I can sit in one place and watch a half-dozen episodes of the Twilight Zone back to back when they have the marathon on television. I keep my place in each book, and when I settle back into it, I usually re-read a page or two to get back into the flow. <br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4CWLnEDy2N3brQDJZbARVDbvkcKJNv80VrFMJpT72efmjIj0sntolAy8yHGT6C9VXX2DV6uouiowLVNeVQTDKeZy6g7Y_dLbFmUY_-YosXGR6OJo0lyNab0rLHWnG9SN1FLPNxhZcygaV/s1600-h/back+.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 233px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4CWLnEDy2N3brQDJZbARVDbvkcKJNv80VrFMJpT72efmjIj0sntolAy8yHGT6C9VXX2DV6uouiowLVNeVQTDKeZy6g7Y_dLbFmUY_-YosXGR6OJo0lyNab0rLHWnG9SN1FLPNxhZcygaV/s400/back+.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322290342538126658" /></a>I've read the back of the postcard many times over the years, and always wonder what the Underhills are studying. I usually end up guessing art history, or picture them in chef togs. I just don't know what those Underhills are up to. They give no clue. But the postcard reminds me of a E.M. Forster type of novel in which Underhills have some exciting and some unfortunate adventures in Paris, which leads to some great and sudden change in Mrs. Underhill. It's 1928 and the Underhills don't know that they'll lose their fortune in the upcoming stock market crash. They meet Gertrude Stein and Mr. Underhill strikes up a friendship with Picasso that goes very sour. Mr. Underhill will sigh a lot <span style="font-style:italic;">and wish they'd never come to this place!</span> He will perhaps return to Maryland alone.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiif4uEloZYstBjCZ-i4THdNL7AN2HD0it-lf88nug9lmuQq7lX7hT4_0KtAeyZZB_7w4IH5E8Tha8q0Zz6mnD5kKJKMpStX7peScqsIdtF-t634SvorztTx0PrQI3SAIVGPlgYVvaraveD/s1600-h/L1330877.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 298px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiif4uEloZYstBjCZ-i4THdNL7AN2HD0it-lf88nug9lmuQq7lX7hT4_0KtAeyZZB_7w4IH5E8Tha8q0Zz6mnD5kKJKMpStX7peScqsIdtF-t634SvorztTx0PrQI3SAIVGPlgYVvaraveD/s400/L1330877.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322287046496788178" /></a>I always like it when a memoir includes descriptions of a place. Can you guess who wrote it?<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNcakQIkEdjlRU01hdWB6qvwCe5vkYhltJvM42Q3B3ERXqAyrzNRtR85w3zbVE1JGyEHQPxNKcAIBrKFVMPOOt1eBxbr64bhzLbqbj8uiIfpJOm4FCblB0_BGKRKB__Cogqlt1JMoYtISv/s1600-h/a+nice+cupp.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 295px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNcakQIkEdjlRU01hdWB6qvwCe5vkYhltJvM42Q3B3ERXqAyrzNRtR85w3zbVE1JGyEHQPxNKcAIBrKFVMPOOt1eBxbr64bhzLbqbj8uiIfpJOm4FCblB0_BGKRKB__Cogqlt1JMoYtISv/s400/a+nice+cupp.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322293102213929666" /></a>The best place to read this book is at a table with a nice cuppa and a biscuit or cookie. I'm overly familiar with the biscuits listed in the book, as well as many other kinds of tea biscuits, cakes, and cookies. I have a number of favorites, but like with books, need to taste them all in the span of a year. The book is perfect for the biscuit enthusiast, and there is a cake/bread/cracker/cookie/biscuit Venn diagram ~ <span style="font-style:italic;">always fun to add to the confusion with a Venn diagram.</span> There's also a chapter on dunking, which brought back memories of some fabulous dunks of yesteryear, and made me wonder why I stopped dunking. But the book reminded me ~ bottom sludge and breakage were factors. <br /><br />A slice of cake, a piece of toast, or a biscuit with your tea or coffee is grand. Add a book, and it's heavenly.Avid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-73566250125369953222009-04-02T09:48:00.003-04:002009-04-02T10:15:09.069-04:00Do You Read ...Outdoors?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEPL4Ik5kFF77mMDnC4nUNJNhMatFo2wg1IoTGFOoVeuTAJIFPfj0jXhgH04I_4Ga996W9CtynFF5GC0yQQ5VkUyzMThZ3UbEKqXR08prCuA8su8fjQUKX8zvX7edpdd2TyhPfHsI7MgkB/s1600-h/growing.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEPL4Ik5kFF77mMDnC4nUNJNhMatFo2wg1IoTGFOoVeuTAJIFPfj0jXhgH04I_4Ga996W9CtynFF5GC0yQQ5VkUyzMThZ3UbEKqXR08prCuA8su8fjQUKX8zvX7edpdd2TyhPfHsI7MgkB/s400/growing.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320092283736772978" /></a>The WPA guide to NYC has been a great read... and it's filled with maps and illustrations too. The wonderful thing about this Works Progress Administration Guide is that it can still be used, all these years later. The old neighborhood has hardly changed. Bodegas and newsstands may move, change owners... but generally my old neighborhood ...the landscape... looks just the same as it did way back when.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiykpiWamSxgkoHVCuRLGkexA2yz2s74NbNGIPGKaS3RPJiofhQ0_Or-Bc67LCZUE4OC4W8ZA9wcqrodPsuqCJJGrxcDLa4U6j8pukc9Ef195oDIWr9zOM7pkMbFOF4yVvTWzvKBh6z8NN3/s1600-h/Book+on+street.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiykpiWamSxgkoHVCuRLGkexA2yz2s74NbNGIPGKaS3RPJiofhQ0_Or-Bc67LCZUE4OC4W8ZA9wcqrodPsuqCJJGrxcDLa4U6j8pukc9Ef195oDIWr9zOM7pkMbFOF4yVvTWzvKBh6z8NN3/s400/Book+on+street.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320092279699044194" /></a>Met a man on the street ~ sitting on a bench, reading. He said the book he was reading was very good. He said he didn't want to be photographed <span style="font-style:italic;">reading outdoors</span>, because he is against looking like a person who would be reading on the street. He said he didn't normally read on the street, but usually read inside a Starbucks. <br /><br />"I don't want to project that image" he said.<br /><br /> I was confused. He explained that people look <span style="font-style:italic;">homeless</span> when they read on the street. <br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6iVBME7D_5e2J3s1ojI-622nEsaZuaBldmCHdy6z7I-ZSBMoI0qZ2bXlpLvR4ipxpeoVOZo5sN6G-UOHoPDOmWe0_S5wCYxc8TLcxh2blLmFrNPhO5EiYjc_Bc5AIbLTAjBneD6LioKrJ/s1600-h/new+fict.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6iVBME7D_5e2J3s1ojI-622nEsaZuaBldmCHdy6z7I-ZSBMoI0qZ2bXlpLvR4ipxpeoVOZo5sN6G-UOHoPDOmWe0_S5wCYxc8TLcxh2blLmFrNPhO5EiYjc_Bc5AIbLTAjBneD6LioKrJ/s400/new+fict.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320092274420580818" /></a>I haven't been reading a lot of new fiction since I've been putting loads of free classic books onto my Kindle. Re-reading some very excellent Daniel Defoe (<span style="font-style:italic;">Moll Flanders and Robinson Crusoe</span>.) I find if I take my Kindle everywhere, I end up getting a lot of reading done. Much more than if I lug around a selection of books. (Which I used to do.) I no longer have to carry a huge handbag or tote to hold all of my books. I'm back to reading as much as I want wherever I want, but not much new fiction. <br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYewL176skewXBLxQDWTej26LNEsjJ9MEQ8y-48RCyEVutgl1DCYnW5OwA3UsjaJ35Bo6KKrYcGcy8T7kN6VCak6mrcLwGfVtjtKo1bBDf3TMTp5sUlFA57_MfhPto9gT2Ot8FcDVv5vTr/s1600-h/austen+%26+woolf.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 288px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYewL176skewXBLxQDWTej26LNEsjJ9MEQ8y-48RCyEVutgl1DCYnW5OwA3UsjaJ35Bo6KKrYcGcy8T7kN6VCak6mrcLwGfVtjtKo1bBDf3TMTp5sUlFA57_MfhPto9gT2Ot8FcDVv5vTr/s400/austen+%26+woolf.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320092269096169618" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcZie9HRIPcvIUKkdyVw9F0OkWzsvchp1KixILZoSwSo3OXUaqYG1TzxGRayqRAQ7imz5hAILFVTdFIrJ4TiAqYNuUoJY1KpjGhUpyOMzYTaTdU5YGjQflNMPdQF25FBoGSujDBmTvRABK/s1600-h/L1350850.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 245px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcZie9HRIPcvIUKkdyVw9F0OkWzsvchp1KixILZoSwSo3OXUaqYG1TzxGRayqRAQ7imz5hAILFVTdFIrJ4TiAqYNuUoJY1KpjGhUpyOMzYTaTdU5YGjQflNMPdQF25FBoGSujDBmTvRABK/s400/L1350850.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320092264863839538" /></a><br /><br />I've started to read Stargazey too, so far so good!Avid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-26117684330380273662009-03-29T14:50:00.004-04:002009-03-29T15:12:25.853-04:00A Little Ray of Sunshine<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq3IqhXzvIJqrLWOVUNIMsaVCutIutaa9ooUFsUp-ri6hL3Sf5Yt0ujDqC5fxbccKR2itaZDXJP8rzbMPtkYrcopWexkzuSd2FS6ATftjHAHI8UN7D-6pIm2Ev3st0ydfpIUN3B14qBTwK/s1600-h/books+going+places.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq3IqhXzvIJqrLWOVUNIMsaVCutIutaa9ooUFsUp-ri6hL3Sf5Yt0ujDqC5fxbccKR2itaZDXJP8rzbMPtkYrcopWexkzuSd2FS6ATftjHAHI8UN7D-6pIm2Ev3st0ydfpIUN3B14qBTwK/s400/books+going+places.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318684541172062434" /></a>I've been reading up a storm, and mostly away from home ... so blogging has been difficult. Someone recommended <span style="font-style:italic;">A Little Ray of Sunshine</span> by Lani Diane Rich, which they called a smart, funny <span style="font-style:italic;">chick-litty</span> type of book. I haven't checked it out yet. Chick Lit usually lets me down, but I've been told this one won't.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnc5LC6NL4oIo1I5xcuFWavoGC_IboeQokffrO90jWCH4IdkOmoIOGtU2M8wYofmRzAGxuTWYmQ1kZT3svr2p3hxBzsbgWQjMDTunVGd1cgGD71OqB-FcYvL_Kr5tUej3QWiJvvDPNdMAF/s1600-h/hanh.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 225px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnc5LC6NL4oIo1I5xcuFWavoGC_IboeQokffrO90jWCH4IdkOmoIOGtU2M8wYofmRzAGxuTWYmQ1kZT3svr2p3hxBzsbgWQjMDTunVGd1cgGD71OqB-FcYvL_Kr5tUej3QWiJvvDPNdMAF/s400/hanh.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318684539126322466" /></a>I've been reading a huge mix of things and am enjoying re-reading <span style="font-style:italic;">The Wind in the Willows</span> which is marvelous. <br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf53tEK78SxKOI5ImVLOlb5J4Hyc0BFSfTGSZ4gcRg3pR0MqSH9La1UR1lUv51GGhyphenhyphenEE0BAkKSofR2Zjcwx5sHpsXpZj74-Zzt-tWZ80KBKhP7FSJOVZTYd-GCRgnhZF-cWIrTbC81TpDQ/s1600-h/amer+absinth.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf53tEK78SxKOI5ImVLOlb5J4Hyc0BFSfTGSZ4gcRg3pR0MqSH9La1UR1lUv51GGhyphenhyphenEE0BAkKSofR2Zjcwx5sHpsXpZj74-Zzt-tWZ80KBKhP7FSJOVZTYd-GCRgnhZF-cWIrTbC81TpDQ/s400/amer+absinth.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318684533190914322" /></a>Reading labels. This one was interesting, but American Absinthe? Really? <br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI32CeeU0LnpSSySEYxSP72rPCV0mFuU_Fyl0FLwLl12wew2IJhh21TMM-2gzxQGouFvKg7ZY5y109yqC1Nr4MYquXdDjzLpj4zrmXidnUblqb4FsHMOola5aKg8HMRfjmtxbd0LLVbhAl/s1600-h/cruelty.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 365px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI32CeeU0LnpSSySEYxSP72rPCV0mFuU_Fyl0FLwLl12wew2IJhh21TMM-2gzxQGouFvKg7ZY5y109yqC1Nr4MYquXdDjzLpj4zrmXidnUblqb4FsHMOola5aKg8HMRfjmtxbd0LLVbhAl/s400/cruelty.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318684547762105698" /></a>Interesting article on cruelty. It reminds me of a short story I read where this kind nurse (who imagines she has monumental healing and mystical powers) often feels depleted after being so wonderful, and to regain some energy (or her edge) does little cruel things to people that she usually fawns over. It gave her a little kick, like a sip of champagne to cause a little pain. I wish I could find the short story anthology it was in. It was a weird story, and twisted.Avid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-51472121163176994322009-03-24T13:47:00.001-04:002009-03-24T13:53:06.852-04:00Stuff and Nonsense<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWzJfpF9rKc69BBXrsr3j84c7WFI3naAOoDMHTcE8ydq4hnswHM_m4y10KYYBj5piasjwxL4s21snot1bCqWByFSl7RBCnDHAdy-pMwgSeiYjoeYjhWEUk7z-4iYzlbBmG0fXfQt0sJGlJ/s1600-h/booklets.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWzJfpF9rKc69BBXrsr3j84c7WFI3naAOoDMHTcE8ydq4hnswHM_m4y10KYYBj5piasjwxL4s21snot1bCqWByFSl7RBCnDHAdy-pMwgSeiYjoeYjhWEUk7z-4iYzlbBmG0fXfQt0sJGlJ/s400/booklets.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316813433081083618" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVlIG0bGRA4eBoGJjaJVZtqw7tYOAZcXJE73KNTxDr8x8savH8nDCzLEj67VhqMczm-Y7gBBVfc47jDRkIDJvlz5kEKpflkCELYDblTC1xzWi5xgyTNH0USSI0J6lCP31WDtvtD8cPk27p/s1600-h/chair.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVlIG0bGRA4eBoGJjaJVZtqw7tYOAZcXJE73KNTxDr8x8savH8nDCzLEj67VhqMczm-Y7gBBVfc47jDRkIDJvlz5kEKpflkCELYDblTC1xzWi5xgyTNH0USSI0J6lCP31WDtvtD8cPk27p/s400/chair.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316813428398180514" /></a>A Jamaican deli near my home has added this chair. I'm tempted to sit and read there.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBwSap_871Ls5CTWYg0y1distiLzXHe9qaU6yBmSwZitltprikWAe0kyBfqFoZgffN6ykKJkbnUWfVywepNhyphenhyphenYSDbhFeU7JR5tDnPcARkU68IFbXeOvv7YfgCP6X2IDXZqt8A1mcr4fhv4/s1600-h/L1380298.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBwSap_871Ls5CTWYg0y1distiLzXHe9qaU6yBmSwZitltprikWAe0kyBfqFoZgffN6ykKJkbnUWfVywepNhyphenhyphenYSDbhFeU7JR5tDnPcARkU68IFbXeOvv7YfgCP6X2IDXZqt8A1mcr4fhv4/s400/L1380298.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316813417534545378" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuc1znqEetZqNSdYwNcC4hdPuJGML6AAbeF91ZOWdS1yK7-sD4SNPXuUMxdxlW8smQKwipFfuhp7D8xtJitDZIylIwhpAVxlvSwaEXyvBxXKynbexlyvgylxRB7089bYHAc-b7Rs9F03P4/s1600-h/L1320701.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 205px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuc1znqEetZqNSdYwNcC4hdPuJGML6AAbeF91ZOWdS1yK7-sD4SNPXuUMxdxlW8smQKwipFfuhp7D8xtJitDZIylIwhpAVxlvSwaEXyvBxXKynbexlyvgylxRB7089bYHAc-b7Rs9F03P4/s400/L1320701.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316813413343479298" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXZ-pdaAr1ikdij2_I7khy9c9HFvjxgxrj1t7-tsHYU5F-NLlf8EfEdC2RwXFZIl-MmUQT0PPRGekI8GZaqlmuZl80pEZgQZWpqOozV4Y9lTgH-wvYgxRDvotCdzpSIbk98SboPz8KW9R7/s1600-h/L1320698.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 173px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXZ-pdaAr1ikdij2_I7khy9c9HFvjxgxrj1t7-tsHYU5F-NLlf8EfEdC2RwXFZIl-MmUQT0PPRGekI8GZaqlmuZl80pEZgQZWpqOozV4Y9lTgH-wvYgxRDvotCdzpSIbk98SboPz8KW9R7/s400/L1320698.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316813405708796530" /></a>Avid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-42229152968061411262009-03-22T08:17:00.003-04:002009-03-22T08:22:02.593-04:00My Current Reading<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtxBetIazkXpNLB6VAOv2-uhP9J7h4KVCZ-jMvUuhTE6ovFjHo-C3sHR2RJBttNglVEEB00_DSZIgvB6jE7yom0tEOulfxiX6kexzHE76s7R_mNVwvB4N_8GzuocIrXVuboS0cggQ_3lXJ/s1600-h/books.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 292px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtxBetIazkXpNLB6VAOv2-uhP9J7h4KVCZ-jMvUuhTE6ovFjHo-C3sHR2RJBttNglVEEB00_DSZIgvB6jE7yom0tEOulfxiX6kexzHE76s7R_mNVwvB4N_8GzuocIrXVuboS0cggQ_3lXJ/s400/books.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315985364008226690" /></a>I'll be hiking a lot more this spring and summer since I joined a couple of outdoorsy groups. This is part of my reading material. I doubt if a bear would actually eat me--a bear would probably just eat my arm and maybe part of my face. Still, I wouldn't care for that.Avid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-36523006678379015112009-03-18T10:43:00.003-04:002009-03-18T18:50:55.963-04:00Diagrams and Charts<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlq0128zO3_2eV8s8eYI3UxEvy2DA-E6p3oGfzzdEzeKeO5Cfvn7PbbLizqPYvOO77PjQKSRVeynIVYXZ2iaP05GTL96KL5TdybDKCkmn0k8xlbMAlqUMo01p3iVws5VXCAEYOiOhXMmba/s1600-h/diagram.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlq0128zO3_2eV8s8eYI3UxEvy2DA-E6p3oGfzzdEzeKeO5Cfvn7PbbLizqPYvOO77PjQKSRVeynIVYXZ2iaP05GTL96KL5TdybDKCkmn0k8xlbMAlqUMo01p3iVws5VXCAEYOiOhXMmba/s400/diagram.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305684550755377138" /></a>I drew this diagram to help me understand why I don't read much in these three areas anymore. The central red area (area #1.) represents an author G.K. Chesterton, new to me, but his writing got me thinking... In the past I wouldn't have included mystery in my diagram, and I would have had a simple venn diagram of sci fi and fantasy. Not all fantasy includes sci fi though.<br /><br /><br />G.K. Chesterton’s the Man Who Was Thursday( a Nightmare) is a wild mystery story filled with strange yet entertaining twists. The story begins in the Saffron Park neighborhood of London. The hero of the story, Gabriel Syme rebells against the status quo and refuses to be zany. He speaks out as a normal person. Being a regular guy, the crazy world he lives in seems even more surreal. As I read the book, the thought popped into my head -- <span style="font-style:italic;">Vonnegut must have liked Chesterton </span>-- then my mind wandered to Douglas Adams, Tolkien ... so I began assembling a list of other authors that might appeal to Chesterton fans. I had put Orwell down, but later did a little online research and discovered that while Orwell read everything that Chesterton wrote, he had declared that G.K. was the worst sort of anti-semite. (Orwell defended his friend P.G. Wodehouse when Wodehouse was accused of playing footsie with Nazis.) <br /><br />More research showed other people creating what looked like sky maps of authors. One author in the center of the reading universe with others hanging in the blue space around him. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi4fKjUlRJb2Aw-f9v5oBB0PVhg-g6mE_rpUxT3ZVjJgRhT5BFBfP2foURlv5UnQnvvuNNEjK-tviMMseUsiClwQeJLohir3gxvA6m9ZObVvh_ceNxEp9-5a6b1S4rEvz6dRqWKTXDvBmm/s1600-h/L1360928.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 288px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi4fKjUlRJb2Aw-f9v5oBB0PVhg-g6mE_rpUxT3ZVjJgRhT5BFBfP2foURlv5UnQnvvuNNEjK-tviMMseUsiClwQeJLohir3gxvA6m9ZObVvh_ceNxEp9-5a6b1S4rEvz6dRqWKTXDvBmm/s400/L1360928.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304999017743106578" /></a> My primitive chart was going OK until I decided 1. to add Poppy Z. Brite (which lead somehow to adding Kafka ) and 2. I didn't know enough mystery authors to make the chart work. I started this chart awhile back and now I can't figure out how it works.<span style="font-style:italic;"> Should have made notes.</span><br /><br /><br />My charts lead me to other subcategories. I'm reading a good <span style="font-style:italic;">Forensic Mystery</span> by Kathy Reichs now. The chart could grow and grow... subcategories abound. I researched Vonnegut, who seemed to say no other author had influenced him, but great socialist leaders did. That didn't sound right to me, since Kurt was a great reader of fiction as a child and young adult, so... how can you not be influenced by the creativity in stories you devour? Maybe he was misquoted. <br /><br />I was in line once at a post office near Dag Hammarskjold Plaza in NYC, reading a paperback-- <span style="font-style:italic;">The Moonstone</span> by Wilkie Collins. I heard people whispering behind me somewhere. It was a long inefficient line, so typical. I thought I heard a writer's name being whispered, and some book titles. I finally turned a little to see what the strange muttering and whispering was about. Directly behind me, looking really exhausted, was Kurt Vonnegut, holding a large box. Too dumbfounded to speak to him, I just smiled-- there was eye contact, but I couldn't think of anything to say. My thought might have been <span style="font-style:italic;">Me Friend, Me not talk about you as if you not here.</span> I looked beyond him to the jerks whispering about him in line. Maybe I should have offered to let him go ahead of me, but I didn't think of that. I turned back and stayed facing forward as people in front of me turned and gawked at him. <span style="font-style:italic;">Who is He?</span> someone asked in a loud whisper. <br />Now I was sorry I had turned and looked at him. He was in this long line with people and no one said "Hi Kurt" or anything, they just mumbled stuff, and explained who he was to others standing in line. It felt awful to me, and I'm sure it had some kind of depressing affect on him. The line was stalled, we had maybe a dozen people ahead of us and a half dozen behind us. The slowest postal worker ever was doing something in slow motion behind the counter. Outside it was a brilliant breezy spring day, lots of daffodils in planters, budding trees along the avenues. Inside it was overheated and airless. We stood and waited.Avid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-72659707842160615972009-03-12T01:07:00.002-04:002009-03-12T01:10:39.948-04:00The New Animal<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEIFLBMnSU_VQRyUXAhRBcdmsWR4XJCpXHsdj4YvqtKU6h0VwJAxyPlvG-wbXoBGG7l2M4F2cu_SAVDkyjnOMGMJbAEBNptSrvDyl6kt03NWSnym8d2hqP1N-WYfcOATY7GE9Cyqs7LfeW/s1600-h/a+wonder+1.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 312px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEIFLBMnSU_VQRyUXAhRBcdmsWR4XJCpXHsdj4YvqtKU6h0VwJAxyPlvG-wbXoBGG7l2M4F2cu_SAVDkyjnOMGMJbAEBNptSrvDyl6kt03NWSnym8d2hqP1N-WYfcOATY7GE9Cyqs7LfeW/s400/a+wonder+1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312163782242367218" /></a>When I was a kid we had the <span style="font-style:italic;">How and Why</span> books. Flimsy and inexpensive, they were pretty much replaced by the <span style="font-style:italic;">Eyewitness</span> series.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijgwFnJ_5Z2YeSuR-FeyHMmlZg7h0O-R2wucHFS2zcBl82jGEQUsWHkv2TZywlr6MNCuQNrMvKepS5EAZ1qgTaWFmW4-neJnfyuiVSTVBbAmtRlYEf2GXRfjO86Evx5uNVgx_rqBVLgV1J/s1600-h/an+improvemt.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 191px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijgwFnJ_5Z2YeSuR-FeyHMmlZg7h0O-R2wucHFS2zcBl82jGEQUsWHkv2TZywlr6MNCuQNrMvKepS5EAZ1qgTaWFmW4-neJnfyuiVSTVBbAmtRlYEf2GXRfjO86Evx5uNVgx_rqBVLgV1J/s400/an+improvemt.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312163773728700066" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgvLAhVPvQ1fn9BrV_2s5Hauoa1Xus3NjTRD49P10xnjxmttqDfROBns_2lzdJnn9QxM7uFAO0TmNnRMkFisOVBcvdX2cktTM-VWzspnWeSLXbYOtl0sV44UIRxxwYRHwCbrM5iCWyo9lu/s1600-h/animal.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgvLAhVPvQ1fn9BrV_2s5Hauoa1Xus3NjTRD49P10xnjxmttqDfROBns_2lzdJnn9QxM7uFAO0TmNnRMkFisOVBcvdX2cktTM-VWzspnWeSLXbYOtl0sV44UIRxxwYRHwCbrM5iCWyo9lu/s400/animal.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312163766342361922" /></a>Avid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-29209849043477485462009-03-10T00:00:00.002-04:002009-03-10T00:22:09.783-04:00What are Words For?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTX1oncSeTai6Ixs6a5Nf-0Efx83ZTGfaHj8-BkoiVZ8-akx0ZlL7u04E6vUZYijwuQv__08yughg8pDRTgMzRzXq2F5P_NV7Q34TquC9I6Rg4ttU1IGmdQlQqwEx2f8y-8uj_uT4v51UT/s1600-h/ahead.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 296px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTX1oncSeTai6Ixs6a5Nf-0Efx83ZTGfaHj8-BkoiVZ8-akx0ZlL7u04E6vUZYijwuQv__08yughg8pDRTgMzRzXq2F5P_NV7Q34TquC9I6Rg4ttU1IGmdQlQqwEx2f8y-8uj_uT4v51UT/s400/ahead.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311320797659489426" /></a><br /><br />" <span style="font-style:italic;">Poppycock</span>! <span style="font-style:italic;">Balderdash</span> I say! <span style="font-style:italic;">Bugduggery</span> I say! I think a good swear word, creatively placed shows mastery of the English language." ~ Craig Ferguson <br /><br /><br />I have to agree.<br /><br />Once when I was visiting Donegal, I was telling a male cousin about this tourist from Manchester who'd been in town and trying for days to get me to visit his hotel room. I had said no & had been <span style="font-style:italic;">very rude</span>, but every day he'd pop up wherever I was and try to chat me up. Finally the guy told me he'd had a vasectomy. I told him if he didn't leave me alone I'd pick up a chair and bash his F-ing skull open with it. He scurried off and never bothered me again. Apparently he was offended.<br /><br />But my cousin was horrified by the fact that this man had tried to lure me with the vasectomy remark. Indeed, it was a new low in trying to pick up a woman, <span style="font-style:italic;">but.</span>.. had I whipped out my F word too soon, I would have never gotten to hear the word <span style="font-style:italic;">vasectomy</span> while on holiday, or the word my cousin uttered in while in shock.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Cousin</span>: He said THAT? What a<span style="font-style:italic;"> Bletherumskite</span>!!!!<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Me</span>: What???<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Cousin</span>: Nothing, em, I meant to say he was... indecent!<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Me</span>: No-- what did you just say... leather-um-what???<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Cousin</span>: Nothing, <span style="font-style:italic;">nothing</span> it's a terrible word, just slipped out, sorry, sorry...<br /><br />It took me awhile to figure out he'd said <span style="font-style:italic;">Bletherumskite</span> which was considered a truly filthy word in his home growing up. It's a word with several meanings, one being the lowest scummiest type of lying scoundrel there is. <span style="font-style:italic;">Much Worse</span> than bastard, which everyone in town used with carefree abandon -- like when they were looking for something. "Well, I'm off to work --where's my bastard coat?" or "My bastard keys have gone missing again!" I once heard an old woman who'd been menaced and then stung by a wasp say: "I've no quarrel with bees, they're furry and they contribute -- but wasps are bastards!" <br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyfj7w08mSNO4mZwdxqmpi4SbqHzAS8QmdgL3AHHrSePv3cM93sYlsDnAixo0K2tTfDBLyX2KCONBO3LVdpQQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /><br /><br />"The whole concept of the swear word is strange to me. You create words that are naughty to say and then you don't let yourself say them. It's pointless, it's like, alright, there's a collection of letters, put them together and that's the word that <span style="font-style:italic;">we must never say</span>... What the hell is that? It's completely stupid and pointless." ~ Craig Ferguson<br /><br /><br />Imagine certain novels with no swear words. Wambaugh's latest is loaded with them --it would be unrealistic if he had tough cops and rough gang members swaggering through the pages being careful not to use a bad word.Avid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-83075506195558013402009-03-09T00:03:00.004-04:002009-03-09T15:33:19.567-04:00Thrift Store Books<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7bDuvazh8oUjUNKpQXjdXzWZyUJ5FZR27zWRwpwT_izKdLzVGxz4_gK-udsLERbJpgy12volECKefHRi96qCPf86fbXy64wDq6LV_McCYH_N7NM888i_-ArfXNUcx7qww5jbByNrq4jcA/s1600-h/Come+Ye+Thankful.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7bDuvazh8oUjUNKpQXjdXzWZyUJ5FZR27zWRwpwT_izKdLzVGxz4_gK-udsLERbJpgy12volECKefHRi96qCPf86fbXy64wDq6LV_McCYH_N7NM888i_-ArfXNUcx7qww5jbByNrq4jcA/s400/Come+Ye+Thankful.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310925744599641698" /></a>I like looking through the books, always surprised at the things I find. Want to take many books home with me, but limit myself to spending a dollar or less. Sadly, if I'm on foot I will pass up a huge volume of something I want, only to go back and find it gone. (Now I know to just buy it if I <span style="font-style:italic;">really</span> want it, and leave it at a friend's office directly across the street from the store.) In the case of the old hymnal above, a photo was enough--but if I found a hymnal in really bad shape in the trash, I might take it for collage purposes. recycle, right? <br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi39hrKbDbSaS-Ci-0TXl1SzPDhKoX_9hlMNAaUrBOCvnQ5MZpec1yq8Lq-50J0zVYiJVcsc2HB0EOFPXf5G75YW-yvUEKr7bZ5-pGjAYmdhMpfEsgNGuySk4z3p1flQJHaeNCJfGBwIwFS/s1600-h/A+vist+to+thrift.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 232px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi39hrKbDbSaS-Ci-0TXl1SzPDhKoX_9hlMNAaUrBOCvnQ5MZpec1yq8Lq-50J0zVYiJVcsc2HB0EOFPXf5G75YW-yvUEKr7bZ5-pGjAYmdhMpfEsgNGuySk4z3p1flQJHaeNCJfGBwIwFS/s400/A+vist+to+thrift.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310925739817524754" /></a>I have not read any of the books pictured above.<br /><br />Another blogger sent me a news item that revealed that many British peeps pretend to have read certain smartypants books to impress others; <span style="font-style:italic;">1984</span> by George Orwell topped the list I think.<br /><br /> I'm embarrassed to reveal that I've read <span style="font-style:italic;">Down and Out in Paris and London</span> by Orwell three times in the past twenty years. I'm never embarrassed to reveal that although I gave it a half-hearted try years ago, I could not get into reading <span style="font-style:italic;">1984.</span> I don't feel bad.<br /><br />If a bunch of smartypantsers were discussing 1984 at a cocktail party, (the British ones all pretending they read it...) I could just enjoy listening in, and if asked anything, I could mention some of his other works and/or simply say I haven't read <span style="font-style:italic;">Nineteen Eighty Four</span> ... (maybe adding a <span style="font-style:italic;">yet</span> as if I was planning to, or maybe ask why I <span style="font-style:italic;">should</span> read it --but so far I've never been to a party where it was brought up.) <br /><br />In the thrift store, I did find a good book by Ignazio Silone (who has been compared to Orwell, so that's something, right?) and find it highly readable so far--(more on Silone once I've finished the book )-- <span style="font-style:italic;">Bread and Wine</span>. <br /><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw5yP-OdgXLxKfVDvfaODRK47m_hogIDO5v5R2nyiyCTdLqoRqEPyDh9a2gDSXvb5sSaaTOIj2unHtJJdbYgg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />A quick film of my visit to the thrift store, with the easy listening station they play supplying the soundtrack.Avid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-77053743712352095112009-03-08T01:30:00.005-05:002009-03-08T01:52:30.540-05:00Remembering Christopher Nolan<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5SctG_roVL8TJx491pk4Twwt3KzT8AMBI6bGl1fE1dZAJksIG6jcfhyLedKKZ2kzE2ygurUZLPxpY4o03GhSlnXo0nie-nyYeGb4wzrKDkJK2qm9PFNOFFQAjLoZ1jD4S2qx1y_jEZ_hy/s1600-h/Chris+Nolan.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 270px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5SctG_roVL8TJx491pk4Twwt3KzT8AMBI6bGl1fE1dZAJksIG6jcfhyLedKKZ2kzE2ygurUZLPxpY4o03GhSlnXo0nie-nyYeGb4wzrKDkJK2qm9PFNOFFQAjLoZ1jD4S2qx1y_jEZ_hy/s400/Chris+Nolan.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310704122216248850" /></a><br /><br />Christopher Nolan (poet, novelist, author of the memoir "<span style="font-style:italic;">Under the Eye of the Clock</span>") died in a Dublin hospital a few weeks ago. Nolan was paralyzed, but as he said, <span style="font-style:italic;">he became liberated</span> when he was able to type on a keyboard thanks to special technology.<br /><br />His mother described his early works:<br />“He wrote of a family visit to a cave that was illuminated by electric lights: He said it was ‘<span style="font-style:italic;">a lovely, fairy-like effect to the work of nature,’</span> ” she told the Associated Press in a 1987 interview. “It was just that turn of phrase,” she said. “I thought, that’s unusual for a child of eleven.” ~ Bernadette Nolan<br /><br />His father Joseph, a part-time farmer and psychiatric nurse, read his son poetry and passages from James Joyce’s “Ulysses.” Christy, as his family called him, took to writing early: He published “Dam-Burst of Dreams,” a collection of poetry, at 15. Even then, critics compared it to Joyce. <br /><br /><br />His novel, <span style="font-style:italic;">The Banyan Tree</span> might be a good read for the Virtual Book Club sometime this year.<br /><br /><br />.Avid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-61821811015509802842009-03-06T06:35:00.001-05:002009-03-06T08:26:21.967-05:00Reading Haiku<span style="font-style:italic;">Glorious the moon <br />therefore our thanks, dark clouds <br />come to rest our necks. ~ Basho<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG2qn7NnOUKAEuU0Fwfyb3CSCWe62uycfMgkcviwFUrje8_aHmgRa3xley7e-_s4nPXzv0XQp74vL40AxcZe6Me6zj8P7UQEl9RMc5YEwGwR0kbhC4RjFi-xmG38Z4GZTIC8qsY_T3enkZ/s1600-h/dark.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 304px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG2qn7NnOUKAEuU0Fwfyb3CSCWe62uycfMgkcviwFUrje8_aHmgRa3xley7e-_s4nPXzv0XQp74vL40AxcZe6Me6zj8P7UQEl9RMc5YEwGwR0kbhC4RjFi-xmG38Z4GZTIC8qsY_T3enkZ/s400/dark.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309857738422828082" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Nightfall,<br />too dark to read the page<br />too cold. ~ Jack Kerouac </span><br /> <br />Many years ago someone gave me a book called <span style="font-style:italic;">Pomes All Sizes</span> by Jack Kerouac. Kerouac embraced non-traditional haiku, not worrying at all about how many syllables to count. Once I stopped counting I saw a lot more haiku floating around in the world. <br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYi7VEkK5lL4y7fc8CbZAkORQPZ8Y2ADGiic_o-n1W9zYqRJfjeJMNzI2jJZcrooaT9Nw_61ob7BOphS5utZGk3QsJPHlblL-2xVFNg_mQApHMQHVU5bYmFA7afblSR71QpGh0ChwFoGym/s1600-h/Irish+Times+Open+Haiku.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 184px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYi7VEkK5lL4y7fc8CbZAkORQPZ8Y2ADGiic_o-n1W9zYqRJfjeJMNzI2jJZcrooaT9Nw_61ob7BOphS5utZGk3QsJPHlblL-2xVFNg_mQApHMQHVU5bYmFA7afblSR71QpGh0ChwFoGym/s400/Irish+Times+Open+Haiku.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309852431441183122" /></a>Every morning (except Sunday) I get <span style="font-style:italic;">The Irish Times</span> delivered to me in bed. As I decide whether or not to get up or fall back asleep, I riffle through the sections of the paper. Yesterday morning I saw this haiku in the science section. Maybe it's not really a haiku, but to me it is, and it stuck in my head all day, in a nice way. <span style="font-style:italic;">Moonlet</span> is not a word you see every day. Newspapers, I've discovered, are filled with unintentional haikus. <br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkL6xa8T_7-GhTayYZYrmLxF9mrT_C2Dhw-BP3lcj71GUACO_SerfoNPaIr8riJWR7FGqSy-dWe2wORi_xFR3YMqbGBsnMSiOhsV9ijcQxei3Au7z6DkkqQrDdi-9LvYvIJDHsCF42b6Gw/s1600-h/L127birds0261.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkL6xa8T_7-GhTayYZYrmLxF9mrT_C2Dhw-BP3lcj71GUACO_SerfoNPaIr8riJWR7FGqSy-dWe2wORi_xFR3YMqbGBsnMSiOhsV9ijcQxei3Au7z6DkkqQrDdi-9LvYvIJDHsCF42b6Gw/s400/L127birds0261.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309857738909987698" /></a>Address label on an old LIFE Magazine.<br /><br />Her name and address<br />Dingle, birds, green witch, nutmeg<br />my thoughts fly to her ~ Avid ReaderAvid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-32503509674243629472009-03-05T07:32:00.001-05:002009-03-05T07:59:06.346-05:00The Glass Family<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDnv5A0F31AcUIZNYl2KfJRGnFV-N-XUOuolPKvYG_7tRRYxSndA-DSEWy2OitnfDQ_OwiJyYp3fOW3nBSocZqYhmWiqyUocXaHA8xM9TF0RGMsth6_QVhdVfNaykFo25NEMWJX5B4p4bK/s1600-h/glass.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDnv5A0F31AcUIZNYl2KfJRGnFV-N-XUOuolPKvYG_7tRRYxSndA-DSEWy2OitnfDQ_OwiJyYp3fOW3nBSocZqYhmWiqyUocXaHA8xM9TF0RGMsth6_QVhdVfNaykFo25NEMWJX5B4p4bK/s400/glass.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309687333904865730" /></a><br /><br />Buddy Glass, of course, is only my pen name. My <span style="font-style:italic;">real</span> name is Major George Fielding Anti-Climax. ~ J.D. SalingerAvid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-41173740424791428262009-03-03T00:31:00.006-05:002009-03-03T01:10:20.568-05:00Bits<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRSMdaxt9i0rFjCxitT-pZOhc2MEbw0JphGVEhTAH_NyVUZ99lbBDKeMwljfw-MUGb7Pb4Xda7H9BZH4DpnFYOE1R8CGW-S5vYVzyjghmvebVKvbAP4Y0jKIeBoQ_QKH1A44yA-H0NfKrx/s1600-h/alice.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 60px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRSMdaxt9i0rFjCxitT-pZOhc2MEbw0JphGVEhTAH_NyVUZ99lbBDKeMwljfw-MUGb7Pb4Xda7H9BZH4DpnFYOE1R8CGW-S5vYVzyjghmvebVKvbAP4Y0jKIeBoQ_QKH1A44yA-H0NfKrx/s200/alice.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308838088896748322" /></a>As much as I like the fortunes, I'd like to see bits like this inside cookies. <br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiybuAahXcgaZpRzHdTG_UuS0NXBEjnAAjPQDhUT7sl3dSkJcAT6D-tIgf2CByOx9HHu5ecHNfQDbVig3680SpXSu1-_6rHScDY36eQ2sKA2ONGOQ16m6FQ40FgfoP9OyaWnyE5L5MTnm6u/s1600-h/L1370590.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 235px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiybuAahXcgaZpRzHdTG_UuS0NXBEjnAAjPQDhUT7sl3dSkJcAT6D-tIgf2CByOx9HHu5ecHNfQDbVig3680SpXSu1-_6rHScDY36eQ2sKA2ONGOQ16m6FQ40FgfoP9OyaWnyE5L5MTnm6u/s320/L1370590.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308832744633529874" /></a>This is my new <span style="font-style:italic;">Lucky Hat</span>. A nice present sent to me by a friend. <span style="font-style:italic;">Thank You</span> although you do not read this blog (or even know it exists.) <br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYD7CkV5yYkixDY0XtTARaQiDtoVGkTdK4htctnIU_sJeMClt677MqU7aJ994PPv5kq9ZqMfsQ419lEH2-fF8trpd5xeqIbYt5_eGC0Susps72kEEtvaBmbF7e1ySiXPoW12VEgM78WgWM/s1600-h/london.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 188px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYD7CkV5yYkixDY0XtTARaQiDtoVGkTdK4htctnIU_sJeMClt677MqU7aJ994PPv5kq9ZqMfsQ419lEH2-fF8trpd5xeqIbYt5_eGC0Susps72kEEtvaBmbF7e1ySiXPoW12VEgM78WgWM/s200/london.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308832582619262290" /></a>I've been reading books on walking--there are many books on walking it turns out and one leads to another, now I have a pile of books on walking to read and one is filled with local <span style="font-style:italic;">walking maps</span> making me anxious to get started. <br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0SJmNX8fRw5vfO3dJNY7ogkazo-2oU8uE6as6hBni68zW34hBywtbUWdJPpJfehBm6sHnZhz1DN9BmOK0evxX_fGC1o9SpaKYss4A7Pv8gXy83wms98iwYuQ6txUxUgrGrsLCft3J1aIw/s1600-h/L1370396.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0SJmNX8fRw5vfO3dJNY7ogkazo-2oU8uE6as6hBni68zW34hBywtbUWdJPpJfehBm6sHnZhz1DN9BmOK0evxX_fGC1o9SpaKYss4A7Pv8gXy83wms98iwYuQ6txUxUgrGrsLCft3J1aIw/s400/L1370396.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308832416270847730" /></a>I am beginning a quest to visit & photograph 48 different libraries this year. I have a list, and some are pretty far away ~ ( one is in Port Jervis, NY.) I quested over to a couple of libraries just down the road on Saturday. This was one of them. It had nice chairs. I sat down for awhile. <br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLZKa5TwFrJpSdkmp4OTCq3zdMZAqVtPxe66anUh86FCC8iEp7WUlNjnIPSiEuPUOP9WD0hl683n4z1OJ2q60TcQDkXrCgtGHVy110xM4MT0VSQrqryRKdYyq3UYB3nGJUsmNO5fRP2lB7/s1600-h/donaldson.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 394px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLZKa5TwFrJpSdkmp4OTCq3zdMZAqVtPxe66anUh86FCC8iEp7WUlNjnIPSiEuPUOP9WD0hl683n4z1OJ2q60TcQDkXrCgtGHVy110xM4MT0VSQrqryRKdYyq3UYB3nGJUsmNO5fRP2lB7/s400/donaldson.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308832417720175074" /></a>I always like to read these little Q and A things.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit4spQMB-eoyKun59OqvMnY3BOMIGAgXbczIJsvLidF8odHHPK-N66zwWIxPsDuErIhYNuq6lIlL3Ti1GHOHRn0vmqVckOmLBTiErdq0XZqoG-qXKngVgrgOLI9JyoE2qJDR-UVV0CZzQy/s1600-h/comic.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 276px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit4spQMB-eoyKun59OqvMnY3BOMIGAgXbczIJsvLidF8odHHPK-N66zwWIxPsDuErIhYNuq6lIlL3Ti1GHOHRn0vmqVckOmLBTiErdq0XZqoG-qXKngVgrgOLI9JyoE2qJDR-UVV0CZzQy/s400/comic.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308832419637172562" /></a>I'm hoping to find this during my quest. I can take a book out of any one of 48 libraries and return it to my local library. I actually envy the guys who drive around returning the books. I plan to find out the schedules so I can interview and photograph one of these people.Avid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-46075738892352312712009-03-02T00:00:00.000-05:002009-03-02T00:00:00.556-05:00YA YA YA<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_zm8OJ4ZjdycNtvXpX2skErOJJtXKU68XHoJWUS8NayQMSUPuyuHR61AIpRYq3xvFco-t2taBqeGv6lLOAoRq7t9NBM2Q1frmkjD2IT1aF90iuPaP3R7J9JDhuvZVEicVaaaBHBJhd38C/s1600-h/Adult+Young+adult.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 349px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_zm8OJ4ZjdycNtvXpX2skErOJJtXKU68XHoJWUS8NayQMSUPuyuHR61AIpRYq3xvFco-t2taBqeGv6lLOAoRq7t9NBM2Q1frmkjD2IT1aF90iuPaP3R7J9JDhuvZVEicVaaaBHBJhd38C/s400/Adult+Young+adult.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308336306174678258" /></a>The cover illustration cracked me up a little. Or the crack did. But just a little.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5_ZfkHDyFZKkzIZzOzOaTA8o-sHgeHmfQGqV8dET_TuI93evOUcocM5c5MWJTNFEFq_hzGPRWrT3hpJUEUxGcpox9mV7KD7QF7kRdRBRIfvMT2bZ8-yCxSvSafTbK2PUW0xNSNvyKI0MI/s1600-h/Books+Ya+Ya.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5_ZfkHDyFZKkzIZzOzOaTA8o-sHgeHmfQGqV8dET_TuI93evOUcocM5c5MWJTNFEFq_hzGPRWrT3hpJUEUxGcpox9mV7KD7QF7kRdRBRIfvMT2bZ8-yCxSvSafTbK2PUW0xNSNvyKI0MI/s400/Books+Ya+Ya.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308336145293728690" /></a>In the YA room of a library <br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih6DIjZB49mjxHkMW_UBPhse3024uhHxgDN4604g79e58ywfMcSrbeH2Q-jrl3SZrbzFJ-RP2BovJwNI_O4B6NoZzMaeGtuiqUd_EX89F9wPLsR2yGDN86eWTMBaVo7eysUWUmARNPxe5y/s1600-h/teensreadtoo.com.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih6DIjZB49mjxHkMW_UBPhse3024uhHxgDN4604g79e58ywfMcSrbeH2Q-jrl3SZrbzFJ-RP2BovJwNI_O4B6NoZzMaeGtuiqUd_EX89F9wPLsR2yGDN86eWTMBaVo7eysUWUmARNPxe5y/s400/teensreadtoo.com.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308336138585655458" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.teensreadtoo.com/">Teensreadtoo.com</a> is an interesting site to visit.Avid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-65534006867458631592009-03-01T11:44:00.003-05:002009-03-01T14:47:21.868-05:00Weekend Update<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja60q1qnqeQA7vkgnVXrwYbL-zpwpkhynDyrkrvi1AZXpDiJAr7TltS9qP5z3vxsqvmnsIN710Cw1n9H6JMudrOYqWdMgQSrecEDxPUOM30X9jYYGhUV3vXSLuVId8xWBxOEnXdK57tG1v/s1600-h/Henry+Comic+.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 307px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja60q1qnqeQA7vkgnVXrwYbL-zpwpkhynDyrkrvi1AZXpDiJAr7TltS9qP5z3vxsqvmnsIN710Cw1n9H6JMudrOYqWdMgQSrecEDxPUOM30X9jYYGhUV3vXSLuVId8xWBxOEnXdK57tG1v/s400/Henry+Comic+.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308293191851904242" /></a>As it turns out, Henry was a comic strip--I have no memory of this strip, just the Henry children's books. Henry was mute except for the very rare word or sound. Found this picture on a Carl Anderson site. Anderson created Henry. <br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZqNL96em-lN-MRypmsaj1msiIe16_drw6lV12mBjkACkMYtFCEY2jykILN9ML4qMXEhR3Jw1I0pNxC0lNSS76s4XBaPD8adKuOLWDcjokm1eCIbVHo-VTWOJbMYrPbbu9Yzd3cX9e9FYe/s1600-h/grimes+.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZqNL96em-lN-MRypmsaj1msiIe16_drw6lV12mBjkACkMYtFCEY2jykILN9ML4qMXEhR3Jw1I0pNxC0lNSS76s4XBaPD8adKuOLWDcjokm1eCIbVHo-VTWOJbMYrPbbu9Yzd3cX9e9FYe/s400/grimes+.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308293201408591058" /></a>I started reading "Biting Moon" by Martha Grimes. <br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRbC8ZHdftS0ZtXpCoMtQQN9Ar39kPVa-l1jem93UGphRnHXgT4cfF822GzehRJxx50M_1G3t0IeDbxCh1qI4SfrFQRzv69N5sjE6EvJBoFw-aYpVVdAMSdytNusMDwbXtOjN2N4OW0tz5/s1600-h/library+this+weekend.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 325px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRbC8ZHdftS0ZtXpCoMtQQN9Ar39kPVa-l1jem93UGphRnHXgT4cfF822GzehRJxx50M_1G3t0IeDbxCh1qI4SfrFQRzv69N5sjE6EvJBoFw-aYpVVdAMSdytNusMDwbXtOjN2N4OW0tz5/s400/library+this+weekend.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308294804812306210" /></a>Also from the library, a collection of poetry and <br />Writers at Work (second series of The Paris Review Interviews.) <br /><br />(<span style="font-style:italic;">I tried to look at two Louise Erdrich books, but was thwarted when some crud flaked off a page onto my hand.I can only hope this flaking crud dust was due to someone reading while eating and not something worse. Both novels had the same messed up pages. People should be extra careful with library books while slurping.</span>)<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZj9TQmC0uIdEYZpg8Qovor4ihO4Q0unnK6nld8nfPVjqibhqDULM096DpJFJlL9wxC2fhNMNyX3sRXszvSpo1KUU3GdMEm1Evh2q7okE8UOzrPYr7cXeLgvbpHx9GVz4FVAq3zAB-hhdT/s1600-h/K2.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZj9TQmC0uIdEYZpg8Qovor4ihO4Q0unnK6nld8nfPVjqibhqDULM096DpJFJlL9wxC2fhNMNyX3sRXszvSpo1KUU3GdMEm1Evh2q7okE8UOzrPYr7cXeLgvbpHx9GVz4FVAq3zAB-hhdT/s400/K2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308293195764003666" /></a>The Kindle 2 takes some getting used to, more options to play around with. I can only imagine a Kindle 3 will be out next year, and I'll probably want that version too. <br /><br />I read a review of Stephen King's novella <span style="font-style:italic;">UR</span>, and doubt if the reviewer actually read the story. He said King's character used a "Kindle-like device" in the story. But it's very clearly a Kindle. The guy orders it from Amazon and calls it a Kindle. The reviewer also got some facts about the story wrong-- sounds like he heard about the story from a friend of a friend. It was a short novella and a fun read, it got me thinking about how interesting a story can be when <span style="font-style:italic;">time</span> is a major element or a character. <br /><br />Last week I met two teens at the local cafe. One teen had a new iPod (He'd had several previous iPods) and the other said he was holding out for a Kindle. His birthday was coming up and he'd saved enough money for a good supply of Kindle books and half the cost of the reader itself He was hoping to get his parents to spring for the rest. I was surprised any teenaged boy would prefer a Kindle to an iPod, but this teen was a readaholic. I don't meet many teens like him, but I do meet kids who love reading much more often than I did 10 years ago. <span style="font-style:italic;">One of these days I might inherit a family iPod. I'm the only one in the family who doesn't have one. Since there are always new models coming out, I'm thinking I can snag a used one.</span><br /><br /><br /><br />Suntorp ~ How goes the Nietzsche?Avid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-67780556333618291632009-02-28T03:10:00.004-05:002009-02-28T03:10:00.787-05:00From a Little Golden Book<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK3dqbdbb2vwOkYbjfBYxdecjAepQApiPUnZ8-5bFGZhMryDMTtpr6hqTPJjtKJueMMuIPC8JUlWnDbpFqc4Jy3mEJrCMAHNImMrwDFP0XulfmRGq6baLFVE3S8ZdIyLoVJnqMM9PBGz_y/s1600-h/hedge+1.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK3dqbdbb2vwOkYbjfBYxdecjAepQApiPUnZ8-5bFGZhMryDMTtpr6hqTPJjtKJueMMuIPC8JUlWnDbpFqc4Jy3mEJrCMAHNImMrwDFP0XulfmRGq6baLFVE3S8ZdIyLoVJnqMM9PBGz_y/s400/hedge+1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307604204210926738" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipmftCFsRRiDo-zoR1pNi3s9qMIxEskX5hUSOGSk6ELPTnf36ssh5KC4PzlIl4pYH0mfIQLaGop2i1NW3I6mVMicMINTIGFn0cusn2zaK3GOIGkDp5per_rfsozLa7AtYkEk8B5NUdicww/s1600-h/hedgehog+2+app.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 316px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipmftCFsRRiDo-zoR1pNi3s9qMIxEskX5hUSOGSk6ELPTnf36ssh5KC4PzlIl4pYH0mfIQLaGop2i1NW3I6mVMicMINTIGFn0cusn2zaK3GOIGkDp5per_rfsozLa7AtYkEk8B5NUdicww/s400/hedgehog+2+app.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307604008966299570" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaDnTKmnfWR4IRCXNHVqT7nUraZGbGBdcQPVkzEWOco6OvYBgbcFTKzYZoMLjsmG32aphnxpSFYx1IQ6JYZl63Sjx80NgxL4VSXPgXRrzgp_uaT65tqfnr0o1plHELi7OY2FRNfBtC9z3v/s1600-h/hedge+3+present.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 359px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaDnTKmnfWR4IRCXNHVqT7nUraZGbGBdcQPVkzEWOco6OvYBgbcFTKzYZoMLjsmG32aphnxpSFYx1IQ6JYZl63Sjx80NgxL4VSXPgXRrzgp_uaT65tqfnr0o1plHELi7OY2FRNfBtC9z3v/s400/hedge+3+present.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307603442190117442" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFstS0oCva32bn5Y7PsK8JpdMKPc3t5_cBatoLpyUfU9O0EVyFLNsYRmcO4PYPRD378oLFUJQVpyG5levT2RYLosHTYKYPEiwRXKx6BGJOTu1V6jD03eNZR-qnXDwzzXa_jJYtRJrtYbFb/s1600-h/hedge+4+eat.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 296px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFstS0oCva32bn5Y7PsK8JpdMKPc3t5_cBatoLpyUfU9O0EVyFLNsYRmcO4PYPRD378oLFUJQVpyG5levT2RYLosHTYKYPEiwRXKx6BGJOTu1V6jD03eNZR-qnXDwzzXa_jJYtRJrtYbFb/s400/hedge+4+eat.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307603213902939938" /></a><br /><br /><br />This was one of my favorites as a kid. It was a hot muggy unbearable summer day and I had walked to the local drugstore with my older brother. He usually saw his sisters as nuisances, so I don't know how I got to tag along. He called us all "Sis" as if we had no individual names. When we got to the store, I went to look at the metal book display and asked for this book. He was flirting with the girl behind the counter, and agreed to buy me a book, but when he saw it was a Christmas book, he told me to choose something else. It was stupid to get a Christmas book in August, he said. I said I liked the snow in the book and refused to put it back. He argued, tried to foist a Henry book off on me -- <span style="font-style:italic;">*Henry was a kid with a giant bald head who was obsessed with lollipops--</span> (as if!) and finally gave up. He thought I was stupid,and I didn't care what he thought. I thought he had no imagination if he couldn't think about snow in August. <br /><br />*Later I looked at the Henry book and it wasn't horrible or anything--it just seemed so at the time.Avid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-33006179234028875582009-02-27T08:36:00.007-05:002009-02-27T11:12:52.119-05:00Reading Here<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTsi4-pqRAK6rv5eBdojkqrSt991SXQgsuZS6K5WKcChMeBe_vcAq98XBnM8wxUBzHjW-AbRDqEU-suhaHV6TJVR53-9AdHmWAb0z6iGIuEhykcecbUjfBN2eYnbs6aNE3jn5Y9vMchKMj/s1600-h/L1370171.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 301px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTsi4-pqRAK6rv5eBdojkqrSt991SXQgsuZS6K5WKcChMeBe_vcAq98XBnM8wxUBzHjW-AbRDqEU-suhaHV6TJVR53-9AdHmWAb0z6iGIuEhykcecbUjfBN2eYnbs6aNE3jn5Y9vMchKMj/s400/L1370171.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307508528160334738" /></a>Reading a <span style="font-style:italic;">Bestseller</span> here ... can you guess what book this page is from?<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix_v43JffEacaP1gU1PX6lMCad1PufY3hVwnq7D0lnF6R1o6lyKMu4KIW-PTYkkwXGy71WnvfnBJGcjmmq09Yrnhj61EdX03w63mvscJ2UYsi0aw5xe0GUCQ-6Db_kDYuc6Fpqt1L3WMda/s1600-h/pnk.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 285px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix_v43JffEacaP1gU1PX6lMCad1PufY3hVwnq7D0lnF6R1o6lyKMu4KIW-PTYkkwXGy71WnvfnBJGcjmmq09Yrnhj61EdX03w63mvscJ2UYsi0aw5xe0GUCQ-6Db_kDYuc6Fpqt1L3WMda/s400/pnk.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307507428625411042" /></a>Currently reading: a novella by Stephen King. English professor Wesley buys a Kindle, and gets a<span style="font-style:italic;"> pink</span> Kindle with special powers. Is this <span style="font-style:italic;">mutant Kindle</span> an evil device? We shall see... A fun read so far. In this story Obama is President and Mickey Rourke is up for an Oscar. I hope King keeps this up, because it's fun.<br /><br />The Kindle 2 arrived yesterday and is smugly superior to my Kindle. I'll post about it later.Avid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479372804252937102.post-34903406244361100592009-02-26T10:09:00.000-05:002009-02-26T13:42:06.719-05:00Books as Playthings<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzv98WMQTzlvtqAyes7ZqFFmQ37_TDADIkPvYXzAASh93LSSIQQkEETMNNtVDd8Qk9c3xbKP4agcUcB-3owd8CHjCxrsXCxFkJW2sym9yJp1mXon7YBQzSqVeRhBH18Sthi71N8nUqpwXD/s1600-h/it+is+a+book.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 362px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzv98WMQTzlvtqAyes7ZqFFmQ37_TDADIkPvYXzAASh93LSSIQQkEETMNNtVDd8Qk9c3xbKP4agcUcB-3owd8CHjCxrsXCxFkJW2sym9yJp1mXon7YBQzSqVeRhBH18Sthi71N8nUqpwXD/s400/it+is+a+book.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307173505072602162" /></a>Yes, it's a book, of sorts.<br /><br />I was given a pop-up book one Christmas, and at first it seemed fantastic, but it was more about the pop up than story-- interesting from a design standpoint but disappointing for a reader. Later when I took weekend jobs in bookstores I saw more and more <span style="font-style:italic;">toy books</span>. Books as playthings, Books with wheels in the shape of a truck. Books that had to be more than a book to be interesting to a kid, especially a kid who disliked books and loved toys. Growing up I met plenty of kids who disliked the library, didn't like to read, that's nothing new--some had reading difficulties, some just preferred sports or toys. My own kids gave any toy books that came into their lives a quick once over and never bothered with them again. No matter how I tried to engage them with the toy books, they wanted the <span style="font-style:italic;">no frills</span> real thing.Avid Readerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11941594574518793056noreply@blogger.com22