Trips to the library are now forbidden for me. And no, it's not for excessive fines. I outgrew that years ago, and besides, our local library has a 12-day grace period.

Ah, but it is on that thirteenth day that they hammer you with a $3 fine. PER BOOK.

Evil people.

Of course, with the advent of online library services, I can simply renew my books online in my jammies, if I so choose. So there is simply no excuse for late books.

No, dear reader, I am not permitted to go to the library because I have amassed too many books here that I need to read. Every so often I find a gem of a book at Costco, which must be purchased, but then gathers dust on my over-stuffed bookcase. Trips to our favorite local antique store always finds me adding on to my collection. I have learned to stay away from eBay; else I would be swimming in cross-stitch paraphrenalia and books.

I buy a wide assortment of books. I have been known to read historical romance, while my die-hard favorite is, and always shall be, science fiction by the Grand Master himself, Robert A. Heinlein. I have non-fiction, albeit only a few titles, as well as historical fiction and modern-day bestsellers.

When Kurt and I flew to Tucson for the holidays, I realized once I got to the airport that I had forgotten my current read in the bedroom. (I read every night before bed. It's way better than a sleeping pill.) So he said I could go to the bookstore -- bad idea. I showed moderation and only purchased one book: The Birth of Venus by Sarah Dunant. Oh, what a most fabulous book. I have been on a historical fiction bent lately, which is what drew me to the book. But I am not sorry I paid the full list price ($15) for it. It was a heavenly read.

I read another book, which made such a small impression on me that I don't recall what it was.

Then came the book I finished last night: Oldest Living Confederate Widow Tells All by Allan Gurganus. Oh, my word. I keep thinking I have more left to go in the book, not because it left me hanging, but because for me it was so good that I want to keep going. The customer reviews on Amazon.com aren't too keen on this book, finding it long and drawn out, but I disagree. Granted, it is an 800 page book, but those 800 pages just seemed to fly by for me. I was completely engrossed by this book, but I did not see the ending coming. That threw me for a loop that I'm still reeling from.

So now I am on to The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency by Alexander McCall Smith, which I just can't seem to get into. I need to give it more time since I've barely started, but after such a vibrant book as Confederate Widow, it just seems flat.

Here is where my taste generally takes a right turn from popular opinion. I've been suckered into reading Oprah's Book Club books, but in general I can't stand them. I never was able to finish We Were the Mulvaneys, even though I paid good money for it. I know what I like, and I like fast-moving, vibrant prose. I really don't care if the plot is perfectly seemless, or if things happen that wouldn't in real life. If I wanted a book about real life, I would read non-fiction. I don't read a book to critique it. And honestly, what most book critics think are fabulous books I think are complete shit.

I am saving Eats Shoots and Leaves by Lynne Truss for when Kurt returns. My friend Jacob read the book and said it was hilarious. He ended up reading parts of the book to his other half, which is what I want to do with Kurt. Of course, by the time I crawl into bed and read, he's passed out asleep, but maybe I'll manage to read while he's still awake. That book I'm really looking forward to.

Anyhow.

I've had to take the bumper out of Grace's crib. This afternoon I went in to get her from her nap, and she'd turned herself horizontal and managed to pull the bumper over her face. Since I'd really rather my daughter not suffocate to death, I took it out. It's weird to look over at her and be able to see her. I'm so used to only being able to see her legs when she sleeps with them up in the air. Plus her crib looks so naked now.

When her grandma was here helping me survive the first few weeks of motherhood, she bought Grace a lovey from Carter's. It's pink (obviously), and I think the head is that of a lamb. Marty thinks it's a bunny. Anyhow, the one side is so plush and soft, and the other is satin. The head is a rattle as well. Grace just loves the thing, and she already seems to enjoy sleeping with it. She keeps it snuggled in the crook of her arm most of the night.

Kurt returns Tuesday!! And there was much rejoicing!