My life is an
Open Book,
Baby
No questions
Unanswered
No avenues
Unexplored
No fears
Unfaced
No wishes
Unimplored.
The cover
Unimpressive,
The Foreword
Undeserved,
The typeface
Uninspired,
The story
Unreserved.
Come read me
Unabashed
Learn my secrets
Unrehashed.
Written in response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Your Life, The Book.
Circling in the waves,
Caught up in an
Eddy,
Reeling from
the done,
The finished,
The read.
Now what?
Am I supposed
to forget
Those I grew to love,
to fear,
to hate?
Where do they go
When I turn the
Final page,
When we part ways?
I finished book two in a three-part series yesterday. Rushing to shop in my Kindle bookstore I was dismayed to discover that book three won’t be available until March. Of 2016. I’d cry if I thought it would do me any good.
The point is, I broke my Cardinal rule of reading: Thou shalt not begin a book series until at least three books are available to purchase.
Three is a great number because many series end there. If I waited until every book in a series had been written and made available to the reading public I might not ever have gotten to read the Game of Thrones series. As it is I’ll probably die before knowing what happens to John Snow, et. al.
Thank heaven for Facebook, though. After posting a plea for good book suggestions my feed was pleasantly inundated with not just good, but great recommendations, including that of a novel, The Adventure of the Yrsa written by a friend under the pseudonym, Lillian Sullivan.
My cup runneth over!
Peace, People.
Yesterday I drove 50 miles northeast of Tallahassee to administer tests to tiny tots in Madison, Florida. On my way home I stopped in Monticello, Florida, for lunch.
I’ve passed through Monticello before. It’s a quiet little community centered around a lovely courthouse (pictured above). I have a fondness for courthouses. In my hometown of Floydada, Texas, the courthouse (pictured below) once housed the library where I enjoyed much of my well-spent youth.
I understand that the library has been moved from the marble-halled courthouse. That just makes me sad. I loved climbing the stairs to the third floor, running my hands lovingly along the bannister until I reached the pinnacle where my precious books were waiting for me.
Was it the place that made me revere books, or the books that made me love the place? Heaven knows the Floyd County Courthouse wasn’t beautiful like the one in Monticello, FL, but it was heaven to me.
Peace, people!
Side note: there are 16 towns named Monticello in the U.S., but just one Floydada.
Praying for Eyebrowz 