Books are Heavy

I will never own enough books. Pops, if you're reading this I know your eyes are rolling as he is the only person outside of this book loving bunch that has seen the boxes of books we have in the house, in the storage unit, the bookcases that are stacked beyond their capacity scattered in corners of our home. I love to read books, any books really. Even Dr Seuss. I can read them here or there. I can read them anywhere.

Except in the back seat of a low car. That would make me barf. Isn't that the worst? When you are in someone's car and feel nauseated and sweaty and just want to hang your head out the window and let the wind blow your flappy cheeks around like a dog does?

I'll get back on track...

Yesterday was a great book sale. Sam and I went and spent leisurely time looking at every title. Y'all know this is not true. The truth is I got him all excited about going, we skipped into the building together, he made his rounds in about 11 minutes and showed up at my side while I had just perused only .000052% of the books I wanted to look at. He patiently carried my book bags and acted excited on cue. He did this for nearly 2 hours. He is a good boy.

This morning he saw this picture on the front page of the paper:

That's us in the top left corner. He really liked this. I of course noticed that even though I am the size of an ant my butt looks huge. oi.

Jemm... thanks for the awards you gave me! I found this book yesterday and thought of you:

For those of you that perhaps aren't crazy for books I shall leave you with a picture of three rabbits.