Lissa

13. Under the Lilacs, Louisa May Alcott
14. Jack and Jill, Louisa May Alcott
15. Blue Shoes and Happiness, Alexander McCall Smith

I have a half-dozen non-fiction volumes that I’ve been working my way through for the last month: thought-provoking stuff about sustainability, humanity, and other earthly philosophy. I’ve read sections of three and will likely not finish them, not because the books are lacking, but because my impetus was to learn more regarding an on-going, blog-and-news-source-based conversation. I don’t need to read them in entirety to continue the conversation, which is the more important part. The other three have been on my list for some time, and are currently resting in a stack on my bedside table, in varying states of “done-ness.” I’m impressed and happy with all, but I wish that the combination of ongoing conversation, intense work-stress, and my general sense of tiredness wasn’t hampering my willing ness to spend hours with each one.

Instead, I’m “escaping” with simple, slim, enjoyable fiction. There are some gentle nuggets of truth shared in the books I have been reading, and the thoughts that each have inspired about simple living, educational theory, and mindfulness are appreciated.

All reading that inspires thoughtfulness is good reading, but I wish I could feel a little less self-conscious about the titles on my “done” list.

I had a fabulous time in Manhattan last weekend; Miles and I approached the museums with less of a “must get through a list” attitude than I usually suffer. The travel was pleasant, meeting in Grand Central was easy (and beautiful—I’d forgotten how lovely the station is), the long walk uptown was enjoyable. We only got to the Museum of Natural History (we’re planning a return trip to capture the Met), but spent a good four hours traipsing through the exhibits, taking photographs, and discussing the subjects. Miles was a delightful travel partner; his science background made him an ideal tour-guide, and I confess to taking shameful advantage of his expertise to satisfy my curiosity about everything we saw.

My only regret is not having more time; a more leisurely stroll back downtown, with time to sit and enjoy a cup of tea in a cozy shop would have been a crowing delight. Since we’re planning a “next time,” I can take that into consideration.

Next Saturday, February 2nd, I’m heading in to New York City for a day of pure pleasure; meeting a friend at Grand Central, walking uptown to the Museum of Natural history, finding a light, easy place to have lunch, wandering the Met until our brains are overloaded with beauty. Sights, sounds, smells, thoughts, conversation—it should be wonderful.