It’s been a rough go in the reading department lately. I have been in a protracted mood where I have started way too many books and feel a little frantic and nothing going in is meeting my need for peace and beautiful words. Except for Harry of course. Telfer and I are almost done with Azkaban per our Harry Potter Homework 2013 edition (in which we have a reading schedule to finish all of Harry Potter by Christmas).
The other bright spot is Delia Ephron’s collection of essays, Sister, Mother, Dog, Husband, etc. A couple of the essays deal with her sister Nora’s death and I love reading someone actively working out their feelings – grief, anger, frustration – through writing about it. It is so comforting and well, productive. And then I know how to articulate how I feel. I think I have little imagination in the end. Back to the Ephrons. One of the essays was excerpted in the New York Times but is so much denser and packs a bigger punch in the book. And then there’s Nora who lurks behind every corner of this collection. Haven’t read much of Nora Ephron? Start with her novel Heartburn and the New Yorker essay about her apartment in the Apthorp. I love.
In other news, I realized yesterday that this month marks *nine* years of blogging semi-regularly. I have been blogging since before it was cool and now, post-cool.
Here’s our very first post.
Andrea Y. Griffith 