Now that we've moved, we're back to no TV, so I have nothing to do but a. watch Florian B. Bunny, our resident bunny in the backyard, wash his face with his little paws or b. improve my mind through extensive reading.
I promised myself I wasn't going to read anymore WWII books, as that is all anyone seems to write. Then I read the Book Thief anyway and enjoyed it. So I promised myself again no more WWII books, but today I checked out The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, whose title I couldn't resist, but which is, alas, a WWII book. To make up for it, I also checked out Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close for book club, which is at least about a modern-day disaster, 9/11. But it is, alas, set in New York. Why must all books be set in WWII or New York? They are both equally depressing. If anyone knows of any good Western books (Nebraska to Cali, but NO L.A.), let me know.
On a lighter note, I uploaded some of my Moab pictures for your viewing plesasure, here.
And check out what a very perceptive man has to say here (warning, shamless self-promotion...well, I feel a little shame).