I have no idea what I want for Christmas. I know what I am buying everyone. I have lists and lists for that. I've even gotten a lot of the shopping done. I love to give.
I guess that says a lot...I am content with what I have...
I wish my house had more character, wide moldings, built in book cases, window seats, radiators...
I wish I were a knitter. I love yarn. I love all of the colors and the textures. I love the bamboo needles. I love knit scarves and hats and mittens.... I buy the yarn, the needles, the patterns...and I never find the time to knit.
I used to do needlework when I watched TV. Now I watch an hour of TV a week...and spend the rest of my time reading.
Maybe I should read less and knit more.
Nah.
I am currently in love with Jennifer Weiner. I had read "Best Friends Forever" with a book club a year and a half ago...and just thought it was so-so. Recently, I read "Fly Away Home" and now I am obsessed..."Little Earthquakes", "In Her Shoes", etc. I love reading authors!
Author's voices are comforting to me. I think of them fondly, the way I think of friends. Sometimes I yearn for Elizabeth Berg's voice, or a visit with Jodi Picoult; I look forward to the winter releases of Barbara Delinsky and Kristin Hannah. And every once in a while, I just need to pick up Laura Ingalls Wilder, or Norma Klein.
A recently read "A Wrinkle in Time" by Madeleine L'Engle, a book I remember fondly. I borrowed it from my Naunie's library when I was staying there for a week over the summer when I was 11 or 12, and I read it laying in the big, lumpy bed or on the aluminum lawn chair under the big tree in her backyard. So funny, that when I think of "Anne of Green Gables" or "Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm" I also think of sitting in the redwood chairs under the pine trees in my parents' backyard.
