Nothing doing

Another book I read this summer is The House At Pooh Corner by A. A. Milne. Want to know my favorite part?
"Where are we going?" said Pooh, hurrying after him, and wondering whether it was to be an Explore or a What-shall-I-do-about-you-know-what.
"Nowhere," said Christopher Robin.
So they began going there, and after they had walked a little way Christopher Robin said:
"What do you like doing best in the world, Pooh?"
"Well," said Pooh, "what I like best-----" and then he had to stop and think...
"... what I like doing best is Nothing."
"How do you do Nothing?" asked Pooh, after he had wondered for a long time.
"Well, its when people call out at you just as you're going off to do it, What are you going to do, Christopher Robin, and you say, Oh, nothing, and then you go and do it."
"Oh, I see," said Pooh.
"This is a nothing sort of thing that we're doing now."
"Oh, I see," said Pooh again.
"It mean just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear, and not bothering."
"Oh!" said Pooh.
They walked on, thinking of This and That, and by-and-by they came to an enchanted place... Sitting there they could see the whole world spread out until it reached the sky, and whatever there was all the world over was with them... And by-and-by Christopher Robin came to an end of the things and was silent, and he sat there looking out over the world, and wishing it wouldn't stop. ...
Then, suddenly again, Christopher Robin, who was still looking at the world, with his chin in his hands, called out "Pooh!"
"Yes?" said Pooh.
"When I'm--when----Pooh!"
"Yes, Christopher Robin?"
"I'm not going to do Nothing any more."
"Never again?"
"Well, not so much. They don't let you."
"Pooh waited for him to go on, but he was silent again.
"Yes, Christopher Robin?" said Pooh helpfully.
"Pooh, when I'm--you know--when I'm not doing Nothing, will you come up here sometimes?" ...

"I promise," he said.

From God all blessings flow. I gave myself a terrible haircut today but I am, nevertheless, excited about life and excited in the Lord. I live with 6 wonderful women who desire their Creator. And my Momma and Papa love me incredibly. Does life get better? Even having a boyfriend (hah) couldn't make me any happier right now.

Here are the books I have read this summer (and fall), somewhat chronologically:

1. Anthem by Ayn Rand *" (sort of a condensed version of Atlas Shrugged)
2. Narcissus and Goldmund by Herman Hesse ***
3. The Problem of Pain by C.S. Lewis (my third reading) **** (this is a nonfiction Masterpiece)
4. The Life and Times of Grigori Rasputin by Alex DeJonge ** (interesting subject, poor author)
5. Gone With the Wind by Maragert Mitchell **** (but I'm still aching to know if Scarlet ever gets him back)
6. Candide by Voltaire *** (I don't know my French, Latin, or classic philosophy well enough to fully appreciate him)
7. Stalky & Co. by Rudyard Kipling ***
8. The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis ***

I tried reading the Spongebob books I got last year but I couldn't make it through chapter2.

Next on the docket: Catch 22, Dr. Jekyl & Mr. Hyde, Dorothy Sayers, Beowoulf...

sprawl-a-tropolis

Welcom to Southern California, the car-infested sprawlatropolis where public transportation is a nonsequitor. The LA Times, for example, has THREE sections, yes three SECTIONS of "CARS," and I recently heard a statistic on NPR that the average speed of L.A. roads is 15 mph. Each night our residence has no less than 6 vehicles legitimately parked on the crowded driveway. I, on the other hand, inhabit the garage.

I revel in it. Garage life challenges my innovating homemaker instinct and justifies all those years of packrattiness. Trash and poles and string and fabric scraps will transform into closets and walls and a darling bedroom that even a hobo would envy. Somehow I feel cooler than all the people who live in houses and apartments. It's shameless, I know.