Everyday I write the book

All of this talk about books (Visit Emily and Not So Simple) has me thinking about my own obsession with reading and literature.

When I was very, very small, my mother, a teacher extraordinaire, took index cards and wrote object words on them and taped them to items in the house. For instance, she wrote a card with the word "door" was appropriately placed on the "door" to my bedroom. I think I even had one on me that said "shirt".

So, it was no surprise that I started reading at an early age. I loved to be read to. I loved making up my own stories and I loved books.

I read voraciously as a child. (I told you that the nerd seed was planted early.) I tore through Beverly Cleary books. I read all of the Judy Blume works. I was enthralled by Laura Ingalls Wilder.

When I entered the fourth grade the greatest thing happened. In an effort to turn kids onto reading, the Reading is Fundamental (RIF) program was begun. The catch of this program was that for every three designated books you read, you earned a free one.

Needless to say each day I trotted home in my blue crocheted poncho carrying yet another book. I think my parents were pleased at first, but eventually we had quite a library going. Keep in mind that teachers' kids always get books for Christmases and birthdays. I still have most of those books, although may travelled to school with my teaching mother and were alas read to death. However, a few of my favorites are still tucked away on my bookshelf and I can't wait to read them to Princess S. I think I will start with "The Little Girl Book" and follow-up with "Don't Be Scared". They were staples in my life and I want her to enjoy them too.

I still read every chance I get and I cannot part with a book I have read myself. As a matter of fact, I have a very hard time letting go of any of my books. When we downsized in January, I was able to get rid of clothes, furniture and household junk easily, but had a difficult time when it came to books. I knew it would be a tight fit, but most of them made the trip with me (and the cats.)

At our house, there are books here, books there, books everywhere. I know I will never read them all, but it's a wonderful feeling to look and see all of the creativity, all of the thoughts of numerous authors, all of the hard work of those writers surrounding me. I often catch myself just gazing through all of our books, just looking at their covers and bindings. (Cynical has quite a selection of his own.)

Several years ago for Christmas Cynical gave me the entire collection of Ingalls Wilder books and I cried. I literally wept. . . not only because it was perhaps the most thoughful gift I have ever received, but because it reminded me of snuggling into my bed, late at night as I read them. It reminded me how I had wished and dreamed for the entire collection all my own, but only had one remaining volume. It reminded me that I love to read.

If I could have one wish, it would be to write and publish a novel. I would love to think that my own words would be out there, surrounded by the great words of other writers.

Queen of Cool got bit by the reading bug and is an avid and fast reader. I fear I can't compete with her speed, but I do enjoy know that someone else out there enjoys a good book as much as I do.

I'm going to dig out some of my favorite books and maybe post a photo or two here, just to remember them for myself and to bore you further. I think there is some interesting "artwork" on the inside covers of a few, done by yours truly.