One of my coworkers loaned me three books by the same author, and I'm loving the first one! It's called What the Cat Dragged In by Gilbert Morris. I can't wait to finish this one and get on to the next!
Today is a crap day as far as migraines go, but I'm still going to tough it out and go to work. If I ever manage to get pregnant, I'll need the sick days.
Monday was Childbirth Class night, and Tim and I like to meet for dinner after class. I had a gift card for Christmas for the local book superstore, and it was burning a hole in my wallet. We chose a restaurant very close to said Book Emporium, and walked there after dinner. Ah, heaven. There's just something about a book store. I love books. Not just reading, but I love books. The weight, the smell, the texture of the pages. Old books, new books, leather-bound classics, book club pulpy pages, they all have their own appeal. And bookstores? Nothing else like them. Shelves and shelves of potential enjoyment. No one minds if you plop down on the floor and sit for an hour with a large history of England. I even enjoy watching other people do this. Last night, a woman sat in the Bible section and had several on the floor around her, comparing verses in versions. When I notice that my arms are aching from the stack I've acquired, I know it's time to start out the door. My $20 gift card barely put a dent in the total, but I don't regret our purchases. How can one put a price or limit on the thoughts and words of C.S. Lewis, Margaret Atwood, and Louis L'Amour (Tim's choice)? Also the new Thomas Harrison and a history of the Old West. And a pregnancy journal, something I hope I'll need in the very near future. I'm already half-way through Hannibal Rising. Now pardon me, as I go back to my books.
