I like the CS Lewis book, although this particular copy smells, but not necessarily in a delightful old-book-smelling way? It's not that old, first of all. It's more like it once lived in an unfortunate-scented house and can't shake off that part of its past. It rambliness reminds me of the philosophy books I read in college, except a little more casual, for as non-casual as CS Lewis is - even though I swear he insists he isn't. Okay, CS Lewis. We all know you had elbow patches on your suit jackets. And I know this book was given originally as a talk, and then he futzed with the manuscript before publishing to make it sound a certain way - either more like a person talking, or not, but anyway - if I imagine it as spoken, it's a lot easier to get through. Otherwise you're trying to wrap your mind around his ideas like he is Descartes arguing about his existence, or something.
That being said, I haven't even gotten to his thoughts on Christianity. We're still laboring over society. I mean discussing. Casually. With our elbow patches on.
There was this car accident in town last week that I heard about through my neighbor - not necessarily noteworthy, except that it was in an odd stretch of road and especially, um, gruesome? Like the nurse that works with my neighbor's husband couldn't shake it off that day, even though she sees death all the time.
Frankenstorm blew through, or is still blowing through, effectively killing off fall before its time. Bye, pretty leaves. I'll miss you. But nothing else major happened outside a
There is an epic chili slow-cooking in the kitchen, which will be rad this evening after hurrying-up-and-waiting to pick up K.Lo, taking her to the doctor, waiting some more, procuring meds, etc.
Also, you don't by chance have DoW as a shareable audio file? Because I could see maybe not loathing it if I listened to it. That worked for another book I wanted to love, once.
May your weeks fill up with more Things to Look Forward To, because those are the good things, the golden things. xxoo
pen
1 comment:
My grandma told us about a tree down the street from her where a girl fell asleep or lost control or something and crashed and died. Obviously, I didn't know the girl, and we're hardly ever on that street, but it did still seem a little spooky.
(If I remember correctly, school friends painted a big white heart on the tree, but that distressed the mother, so it was repainted brown.)
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