Posted by Loulou on Jun 12, 2015 | 4 comments

Now I know that isn’t a literal thing—that people who like to read are not actually worms as in the garden variety, but I guess when someone is really getting into a book, it feels as if he/she is ‘worming’ one’s way into the plot, characters, and prose and hence the name.

I read over mama’s shoulder all the time, especially if a kitty is mentioned in the book, but mama’s recent read, Chickens Eat Pasta, by Clare Pedrick, was fun for me because I liked the image of chickens in a farmyard pulling at what look like worms (!) and finding out that it was spaghetti! Those same chickens met their fate later when a character in the book, her hair full of feathers, deftly dispatches one or two for Sunday dinner. And the tale of love in an Umbrian village goes on…

Mama reads a lot. Right now she’s reading Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandell, a weird and wonderful tale of survivors of a deadly flu that practically wipes out mankind (make that peoplekind). It’s not mama’s usual cup of tea, but it’s riveting and worth a look even if mama is on the last pages and still can’t figure out what’s going on. Even that can be fun sometimes, too.

For example, I never know what’s going on, really, but I have an inkling and so keep trying to find out just what IS going on and that makes life exciting for me. And when I DO find out just what is going on, I’ll let you know…

I’m thinking of writing about what’s going on. Note the blank page.

Right now, I’m pretty sure that summer is going on and it’s HOT as Hades and that means catching some cool zzzzzzzs. I’ll read later…

I’m thinking about chickens, you guys, not sleeping!