While away on our weekend vacation, we stopped at an old bookstore on our way to Zions, (pictures of said bookstore included in the last post…because including pictures relevant to the topic at hand is, well, apparently not my style.)
Anyways, I can’t get enough of them. Old bookstores, that is. Really anything old. Antique shops, Vintage clothing stores, all that good stuff. It speaks to me. And so does the price. So of course, I dragged my husband, daughter, and in-laws into the store just to take a look around and low and behold, both my father in law and myself left with armfuls of biography’s and historical fictions and of course the ever necessary old-timey romance novels. Duh.
I’m reading one currently titled “The Man Who Knew Kennedy” by Vance Bourjaily. I’m only a couple of chapters in, but it’s pretty neat if I do say so myself.
I’ve got the rest of the evening and all of tomorrow to relax and catch up on some reading and writing and …. maybe I’ll get around to doing some dishes, maybe. But I’ve got a sickling on my hands and the poor little girl has slept most of the day away. So I’m here, gathering sweat as she leans into my side, listening to her snore and hum that pitiful sweet little “mommy-I-don’t-feel-good” sound.
It really makes me happy.