tonight 7 of my dear pals are coming over for book club.
the 8 of us have been gathering in each others homes,
once a month for over 10 years now.
we've read some pretty great books-
and we've also tryed some really worthless ones.
i decided about 5 years in that if i was
reading a book club suggestion and
didn't care for it i wasn't going
to spend any more of my precious reading time
soldiering though it because i ALWAYS
have a stack of books i can't wait to get my
grubby little hands on. i'm reading this month's
selection (WILD by cheryl strayed) on
a friends kindle...do you have one? i think it's
on my christmas wish list!
i used to think i would write a book someday.
now i'm thinking maybe more of a short story~
or an article for a magazine... my life's work may actually just be a poem~
don't laugh, i can write really funny poems, just ask maggie!
i'm running out of time and should start on it though don't you think?
would it justify me retiring from my job? don't writers need long quiet days to
just sit by the sea and ponder?