Reading

I'm scared because I'm blogging. I've sat down many times to do this but here's the deal..I'm a reader not a writer. It appears that my bookgroup cohorts secretly wait until I leave and then hold writing group without me. But I'm proud to say I LOVE to READ. I'm the kid who won all the library contests held in the summer...not because I was incredibly gifted at guessing how many beans were in the jar but because I was there ALL THE TIME. I'm the college student who had a library card to every public library in every town I resided in no matter how short the duration (Holte, Denmark for 4 months...I read all 21 books available in English). I'm the new mom reading "Operating Instructions" for the 3rd time while nursing her newborn son at 3 a.m. on a cold January night. And I'm the mom who gasps with delight while taking her son to the libary because I'm constantly running into old friends...Ramona, the Great Brain, Blueberries for Sal, The Poky Little Puppy...

Books have always been a constant in my life and to share them again with my son or for the first time with my bookgroup makes the experience that much more meaningful. I love books...just don't expect me to write anything amazing!

Blog Minded

I am torn by my desire to write, the sheer force of not being motivated to write, and the fear of dominating our book group blogging space. We (said book group) are treading into unknown territory, looking over the edge, dipping our toes in and scrunching our faces at the temperature of the water. I am aware and sensitive to the fact that my New York-loud-mouthed opinions are often not that interesting, and that my desire for our blog to be a successful representation and history for our group…may be mine alone. So I’m wading in, with my pasty winter skin exposed, wishing I had kept my resolution to finally put the book down and get some damn exercise. Actually, I didn’t make that resolution, but I do wish I had shaved my legs.

Leaving the Museum

Reading The Passion of Artimisia on the heals of The Lost Painting was a great idea. We were able to continue our journey through a portion of art history, guided effortlessly by Wendi. Artimisia was strong, determined and courageous in a time when women were viewed as weak and unimportant. How could we not be inspired by her story...

Our next stop...Prague.