I went to the library on my way from teaching this afternoon on a whim. I'm at the end of A Wrinkle in Time and the rest of the series is somewhere in boxes in the garage. I figured I could pick up the books there. I was wrong. What kind of library doesn't have Madeleine L'Engle books? Mine. In a big city. Go figure. No worries, though, I have a list of books I've been wanting to check out - authors or titles that I've picked up on other blogs, magazine reviews, etc. I'll just open my purse and...Of course the list wasn't in my purse. I have a ticket stub from the Chargers playoff loss to the Jets in January, I have an expired CVS coupon that I needed to use yesterday (oh! that's where that was), I have a brochure from a new pet kennel and daycare that someone gave to me at an adoption event last month, I have a business card from the tooth fairy, I have benedryl and sudafed and vitamins and ibuprofen, but no list of books. Naturally, I feel pressured to remember the names and I can't. It's like I'm suddenly back in high school and I've been studying for weeks for an exam. I'm overprepared and excited for it. Bring it ON! Only I get the test in front of me and my mind goes blank. That happens to me in libraries and bookstores frequently. I couldn't recall a single author or title. I spent almost an hour going book by book trying to recognize a few. I've been over my list a hundred times (well, maybe not quite that many, but several times at least) surely looking at them will jog my memory. Not. A. One. I came home with four that look promising but none of which were even remotely on my list. I'll just crack one open tonight and hope for the best. Sometimes I find great treasures this way. My life becomes too full of lists and I find that the true adventures, the measure of myself is really off the lists.
I've thrown open the windows, put Lily in the yard for some sun, lit my inspiration candle (Balsim Fir at the moment), turned on Soundscapes and am about to dive into my rewrite. A bird has built her nest in bush in the yard right next to Lily's favorite spot. Lily is oblivious to the poor things cries of panic and dives at her posterior. She sleeps on. She's actually protecting them. The neighbors mischievious cats won't come into the yard when Lily is out there so they are safe from harm. I keep trying to get a picture of the bird as it dives at Lily. My poor monster. She's just clueless when it comes to most things. That's part of the sweetness that is Lily, though.
Happy Monday, everyone! And happy writing this week! As Jolie says - Make It Shine.
(On a side note: My copy of Wrinkle in Time is so old that it cost me $3.25. Remember when paperbacks were that cheap? I was in the 5th grade.)
One of the (many) things I loved about living in London was the library. I could search for some obscure title thinking 'of course they won't have it' and there it would be, multiple copies. There was a reservation fee but for 30p per book I suppose I can't really complain!
ReplyDeleteI know what you mean about to read lists; mine is a little long to be anything but a digital catalogue of bookmarks though. When I go to the bricks and mortar library I tend to just browse whatever section I'm feeling that day. At the moment that would be travel writing, history/historical fiction and writing craft books.
Good luck with shining up the novel!
- Sophia.
A Wrinkle in Time is one of my sentimental favorite books. It was one of those books from my childhood that I read over and over, under a weeping willow tree.
ReplyDeleteI can't believe your library didn't have L'Engle's books. What a crime.