During church this morning, I made a list of books I want (or am obligated) to read in the upcoming month. Among others I'm excited to read the novels two of my sons gave me for Christmas--a mystery by Donna Leon (FRIENDS IN HIGH PLACES) and a new novel called THE GUERNSEY LITERARY AND POTATO PEEL PIE SOCEITY. I have to confess that I'm put off by the title--sounds a leetle too Anne-of-Green-Gable-ish for my tastes. But people really love it, and I love that my boy gave it to me on the recommendation of the fabulous Margaret Neville who works at the King's English bookstore.
It excites me to make a reading list for myself because I need to take myself in hand and STOP reading The Star, which seems to be featuring a lot of nearly nude perky pictures of Jennifer Aniston these days. Poor Jennifer Aniston. She's doing the thing Meg Ryan did right before she turned 40, i.e. ripping off her clothes and telling folks how she never felt happier or sexier. It all feels kinda desperate and sad to me.
But probably I'm just jealous.