October 6, 2005

• Okay, so I’m not really reading Minerva.
  I did read it last week, though. It’s my favorite Regency novel, even
  though I can’t “officially” recommend it due to the
  questionable-morality scence at the end (although not graphic in any
  way). 

  Shouldn’t I be grading timed essays for my AP class? Yes, and I will
  get back to it right after I post. Blogging is an awful lot like
  writing letters for me, something I love to do.  I don’t think I
  would use it as an emotional outreach, but it is an interesting thought
  posed by kid6896.  I think that the sum total of all my writing
  when I die will be contained in letters to friends, talks I’ve given,
  and comments on essays.  I was thinking this morning of all the
  things I enjoy, and if I could pick only one of them to continue doing,
  which one would it be? I decided that I’d allow myself three things
  instead of one: reading, writing letters, and taking walks.  I’ve
  often thought, “If I were ever put in a concentration camp (not likely,
  I realize), what would I miss the most?” I think of this quite often
  when I slide into a bubble bath with a novel and a bowl of Jax cheese
  twists or chocolate by my side. What would it be for you? What would
  you miss? What three activites would you want on your list?

  To answer a question in my comments–why didn’t I have my tooth pulled
  instead of crowned–the dentist seemed to think that my bite would be
  messed up, which is ironic considering how much my jaw cracks and how
  much my bite was affected by the crown. Go figure.

  Tonight, Libby has a buddy for a sleepover (Sarah B. for those who know
  her.). They are giggling in the basement listening to the new Wow 2006
  CD my mom got Libby for her birthday and are playing American Girl
  dolls. I like nice friends. (And now, let’s all sing along with
  Barney…)

  Our whole family seems to have some sort of odd ailment which has no
  other symptom than fatigue. Of course, it might not be a virus, but a
  lifestyle. Still, it is odd that it hit almost all of us at the same
  time.

  Nathan is off archery hunting for the next few days. When I think about
  hunting, I feel very sad for the animal, but I try not to think about
  it. When I think about hamburger too much, I don’t feel the same way,
  because those cows weren’t happily running wild.  I guess I’m
  secretly a bleeding heart. Maybe I’m just squeamish.

  • 9:32 pm
  • 4 Comments