That would be nice, wouldn't it? If I could take my thoughts out and put them on my bookshelf? Then I wouldn't have to run for a scrap of paper or my phone to jot something down before it evaporated into thin air or, worse, before I complete the thought and watch it pop off of my brain cog like a perfect shiny bubble, wiggling through the air the way big new bubbles do, only to see it popped when a certain someone asks something along the lines of, "Why does the honey taste like honey?"
(That's where all my blog posts go these days. Pop!)
I'm participating in Anne Bogel's What's On Your Bookshelves? linkup today. I'm competing for the last-to-link-up award.We're supposed to list some of our favorites, but I just wrote the other day about some of that.
A friend came into our house the other day and asked a simple question but one that I've very rarely heard. Eyeing our newly pared-down but still heavy collection, she wondered, "Have you read all of these?" No. No, we haven't come close. And I haven't read a whole lot of anything in the last couple of years. I have read all but two of the above. Guess which!
I resisted the urge to curate these photos, carefully rearrange the books, remove that one with the embarassing title which I haven't read anyway. It's a small-ish and random sample. A lot of the books are my husband's or at least came magically from Army-land through him. I used to wonder about the amount of stuff, especially books, he brought back from Afghanistan with him--people send a lot of stuff downrange. I wondered if it should have been left for others. But FOB Tillman is gone now, handed back to the dusty, floodproone, soon-to-be-frosty wilds of the borderlands. So I suppose that, sooner or later, someone had to take it. I never thought til now that the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan had directly affected by living room bookshelves. I just noticed that you can't read the title for one of the books above: The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time (read it twice).
Our shelves are a joint venure: of birdwatching and warfighting, of politics and fairies.
The bucket below is where we keep the beer that won't fit in the fridge. I thought you should know that.
We have kids' books, I promise. Lovely ones, But they're piled down low behind the toys and haphazardly restocked as I frantically throw them back toward their places every evening. (Oz likes to step on anything that's on the floor. So he booby traps the house for himself: flings the kids' books around then purposefully steps on them, and his feet go flying out from under him.)
Monocle: Our monthly dose of hedonism.
Italian and Japanese and British-Americanishness.
I'm out of time, so I'll just leave these here with no more comment. It feels like the contents of my purse spread out, or that time the mover so helpfully unpacked my underwear for me.