Binging on Books

Oh my...I wonder how one can add "ing" to binge without it becoming a word that could rhymes with "singing". Oh well, it's May and I have already begun my hibernation with books. I think it is a holdover from childhood when I spent my summers reading everything I could get my hands on....the advantage of growing up with no TV. Imagination ran amuck through story after story building images in my mind of what characters looked like, where they lived, what they ate and what they were doing with themselves between the pages. And I'm still doing it.



I'm into great mysteries now and just finished Lee Childs latest, 61 Hours, and of course, I have fallen once again in love tall, rugged, handsome and carefree (no luggage) Jack Reacher. And OMG, do I have to wait for the next novel to find out what happened to him? I'll try to be patient!



I am working my way through Atherton's Aunt Dimity series to hold off diving into Larsson's posthumous The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest. I guess my fascination with what was behind closed doors was a result of all the Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys series. I loved Nancy and her convertible and was sure I would grow up to be a detective in spite of my dad's prodding toward law. That didn't last long but the imagination has been a partner ever since. I fooled them all and became a potter, painter and writer. Who woulda thunk!

Tea party in the house of magic

And then we had tea and cupcakes. Susan hosted a tea party for me as a birthday present. It was lovely and always fun to be in Susan's magical house surrounded by her fabulous art work. And Sarah Palin wasn't even invited, thank God. Flowers and hats were the order of the day along with giggles and laughter.
And the fun continued as Barbara, Ann and I went on to Archway Gallery for its monthly reading. Barbara read two of her wonderful poems and I read from a previous blog about trying to be the Super Wife and host office parties. I hadn't planned to read it but was glad I had it with me as a young woman read a very dark poem about mid 20th century housewives that described them very differently from my experience or of those I knew. Shit, I was one of those wives and don't remember seducing anyone from a convertible...what did I miss?
But I do remember being in on the beginning of the feminist movement and discussing Betty Friedan and The Feminine Mystique over the bridge table with the Rice University Graduate Wives Club. Yeah, I even played bridge, sort of. And was it Phyliss Schaffley who fought it all so valiantly? Who was it that told us to meet our husbands at the door wrapped only in Saran wrap? I do admit to being sold the idea of Super Wife/Mom by the Ladies Home Journal and wanting polished floors and scrubbed children but at some point it grew tiresome, really tiresome and boring and I began to step out of the box. And guess what...nobody died, the children grew up and I'm still married to the same guy. And my life has been and still is far from boring.
So now it is fun to play dress up, wear a hat, eat cupcakes and drink tea like the ladies our mothers probably hoped we would be if only for an afternoon.

And life goes on...

Tomorrow I go to a book signing for a wonderful friend whom I met on her blog several years ago.  She is a wonderful writer and a young mother who moved to my neck of the woods a couple of years ago.  She writes with astonishing honesty and integrity about the joys and frustrations of being a mother of two beautiful little girls, moving across the country, and adapting to a new culture.  So her new book, Dirty Laundry and Leaps of Faith, a collection of her wonderful blogs, is out in print and I get to join in the celebration.
    And hopefully get inspired to get my writing together into a chap book.  Tonight I read again in Houston at Archway Gallery which is always a good read.  And I invite the muse to come sit on my shoulder and help me decide what to read and maybe become a little more committed to blogging once again.