Animals - especially dogs

In Memoriam: Holly, 2012-2026

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A few days ago, the last canine member of our family died. Holly, who lived with our daughter Shannon and her husband Mike, was fourteen, and although that is a long life for a dog, it wasn’t long enough for the humans who loved her. But that is the way of things for dogs as well as cats. They leave us too soon.

We met Holly fourteen years ago, on December 25. About ten weeks old, Holly, already spayed, had come from the South right in time for Christmas. Naturally, Holly was very subdued. Who wouldn’t be, under the circumstances? Shannon and Mike brought her to our house for the day, and Holly slept on the couch. As we opened presents, we didn’t hear a peep from her.

What a calm puppy, we all thought. Turns out, we were wrong. As soon as Holly settled in and realized she was safe and sound in a loving home, she went from being a calm puppy to, as Shannon called her, Hurricane Holly.

Oh, Holly was a lively one, full of energy well into her adult years. Fortunately, Shannon and Mike lived in South Portland and had many options for wooded trails where Holly could run and burn off some of her energy.

Holly had what you might call a “big personality.” With Holly, life was never dull. Smart and observant, she always knew what was going on, especially when it came to food or coffee, even. Once, during COVID, when we met Shannon and Mike in a park in Kennebunk for a picnic, we heard a loud slurping sound, only to discover that Holly was lapping Clif’s coffee, conveniently at her level in a cup holder in his folding chair.

Holly was a regal alpha dog, as the picture at the top of this post indicates. When we took her for a walk and met other dogs, Holly held her head high and barely glanced at them. On the other hand, Somara, her adopted sister, normally gentle and laid-back, would growl and bark, her ruff bristling.

While alpha dogs (and cats) can be a handful, they are also loyal and protective. They are always on your side, no matter what, and I had no doubt that Holly would defend us to her death if the situation demanded it. Fortunately, it never came to that. But once, when a dog rushed across the street and started barking at Mike, Holly jumped between Mike and the dog “in complete protection mode,” as Shannon described it. Fortunately, the other dog backed down, and there was no fight.

But what tickled me most about Holly was her expressive face. Really, I have never seen such range on a dog. She had what we called her “Billy Idol” sneer, where she raised one corner of her mouth when something struck her the wrong way. At other times, Holly’s ears swiveled, and her eyes widened and narrowed. We always knew what she was thinking.

In the picture below, Holly encountered bees in the bee balm in my garden, and the look on her face cracked me up.

Farewell, Holly! You were the dog of dogs, and how we miss you.

 

 

 

News

The Wave of all Waves

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Holy cats! Last night’s elections went beyond my wildest dreams. I expected Democrats to take the House—which indeed they did—but I wasn’t sure about the Senate. Well, Democrats took the Senate all right, winning in unlikely places such as  South Carolina, Texas, and Kansas. Kansas! The last time Kansas elected a Democratic Senator was in 1932.

Darline Graham, defeated. Ken Paxton, defeated. Roger Marshall, defeated. Astonishingly, in Maine, Susan Collins, defeated. And so many more.

I stayed up until 2 a.m., watching the election results on CNN. But somehow I don’t feel tired. Instead, I’m smiling. To borrow from President Obama…all fired up and ready to go.

Now, the hard work begins. So much in this country is out of whack—including but not limited to housing prices, college, the cost of health care. With Trump as president for two more years, there is a limit to what a Democratic House and Senate can do. But it’s a hopeful start to what has been a long, dark time for this country.

Supposedly, Winston Churchill observed, “Americans can always be trusted to do the right thing, once all other possibilities have been exhausted.” 

Even if he never said this, it’s an acute observation. Twice, Trump was elected to run this country, and the second time has been a real doozy.

But finally, finally, last night, voters did the right thing.

Celebrate, Fall, Movies

That Russet Time of Year: The Celebrations Continue, the Election Cometh

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In Maine, the blaze of October is over, and we have come to the more modest tones of November, that russet time of year. While I revel in the bright bursts of red, orange, and yellow, I also cherish the more subdued colors of November, which, of course, lead to the stark landscape of winter. All places, warm and cold, have their beauty, but I am grateful to live in a part of the country that has four distinct seasons. I look forward to all of them, even winter, cold, dazzling,  and austere.

I don’t have to go very far to find the russets of November. All I have to do is look out the kitchen window to my backyard.

Now is the time to get serious about cleaning the leaves. Early snowstorms are not unusual, and my goal has always been to get the leaves raked, blown, and chopped by the week of Thanksgiving, when thoughts will turn to cooking for our little feast.

Fortunately, even with creaky knees, I don’t mind yard work. It’s a pleasure to be out in the crisp weather, surrounded by the nutty smell of fallen leaves.

More Birthday Brouhaha

Readers might be forgiven for wondering if Dee, Clif, and I ever settle down to our various jobs. We do, we do, I assure you. But Dee decided to take her birthday week off, and with zero hesitation, we followed suit.

This gave us an excuse to have cocktails during the week—something we seldom do—eat fries, and go to even more movies than usual.

Here, in photographs, is a chronicle of last week.

Hand-cut fries at one of our favorite places in Waterville, Front and Main.

At Buen Apetito, another favorite place inWaterville, Clif toasts Dee on her actual birthday.

At Maine Film Center, we went to see the excellent The Only Living Pickpocket in New York, with a stellar performance by John Turturro.

The movie theaters are on the second floor, and as we walked down the hallway to get popcorn, I spotted a woman reading in the little park next to the Film Center.

As we waited for our movie, we sat next to jolly but quiet companions.

We bookended the week with another trip to Front and Main for a final round of celebratory cocktails.

We sat by the window where we could watch dusk come to Waterville, my fair city, the place where I was born.

The last movie we saw was the new Sense and Sensibility, which unfortunately I cannot recommend, even though the acting was very good. From goofy costumes to Marianne’s stringy, dirty hair to two dance scenes that looked like they came from a farce, the movie was a mess. At one point, Elinor wears a vest. A vest? What next? A fleece jacket? A pair of Sloggers?

Ah, well. Not all movies can be as good as The Only Living Pickpocket in New York.

The Election

The big day is tomorrow, and it feels a little like waiting for the results of a biopsy, which I have had the experience of doing when I was diagnosed with breast cancer sixteen years ago. Will the election results be benign or malignant? Tomorrow we will at least get a sense of the prognosis, even though we might not get returns from some states for a week or more.

Most likely, Clif, Dee, and I will be up late Tuesday night, watching either PBS or CNN.

Is the U.S. population really so cankered that it will not turn the country from the destructive path it is on?

Stay tuned.

 

 

 

 

 

 

News

Doing Good: Pizza, Beer, and the Last Birthday of the Season

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On Saturday, we headed south to Freeport, Maine—to Maine Beer Company—where we met our daughter Shannon and her husband Mike to celebrate our eldest daughter Dee’s birthday. This has become one of our favorite places. High-quality beer for the beer lovers—Clif and Mike—and really good pizza for the rest of us—Dee, Shannon, and me. (Rest assured, Clif and Mike like pizza too.)

But the best thing about Maine Beer Company isn’t just that they serve excellent beer and pizza, but also that they do good.

Here is what greets customers when they drive into the parking lot. And note the other solar panels on the building in the background.

Then there is this:

Maine Beer Company pays its staff a decent wage, and instead of leaving a tip, customers are encouraged to leave a charitable donation. Which we always do.

Now, I want to make it clear that not every business we go to operates like this. Most are just average businesses that operate the usual way. But how nice to find a place like Maine Beer Company, which is a cut above the average in every way.

We also like the casual, friendly vibe.

And Finny, the skeleton of a finback whale who died of natural causes. (Click here to read Finny’s sad story.) Although Finny died far too young, her elegant skeleton reminds us of the beauty of these sea creatures and, I hope, encourages us to respect lives beyond our own.

Finally, of course, there’s the food.

The crowning glory of the outing was this tree in downtown Freeport, where we went for tea and pastries after we had our pizza.

All in all, a beautiful October day in every way. Happy birthday, eldest daughter!

Other Matters

My Book

My upcoming novel, Darcy Dansereau and the Missing Children, is at the printers for a proof copy, which I should get in a week or so. Then the hard work really begins as I go over it to check for typos. I must admit, this is my least favorite part of the process, but it’s necessary, and I take it seriously. Once the proof copy arrives, I’ll be taking another short break. But I’ll also be announcing a contest. So stay tuned.

The Election and What I do to Calm Down

All around the country, November 3 is Election Day. It is not a year for electing a president—alas, we still have two more years of Trump—but nonetheless it’s a consequential election. Senators, Representatives, and Governors will be chosen. It’s a chance to stem the far-right tide that has flooded this country.

I am on pins and needles about this election. I obsessively listen to political podcasts and watch news shows. I hear the same thing over and over: it’s looking good for the Democrats. But I’ve heard this before, only for the country to get skunked by the far-right. And will Trump kick up a fuss if the election doesn’t go his way? Last time, we got January 6, an abomination that still gives me pain to think about.

To calm my nerves, I watch Escape to the Country on YouTube. Yes, it’s formulaic, but I find it oh so soothing. Plus, I love the beautiful countryside featured in England, Wales, Ireland, and Scotland. Another plus is that most of the time, the prospective homeowners don’t buy any of the houses they’re shown. So it feels like a real accomplishment when someone actually buys a house.

Here is a relatively recent episode. Not sure if a house is sold, but I’ll be watching tonight to find out.

Onward, ho!

 

 

 

Cats, Fall, Franco-American, News

Our Yard in Mid-October

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Last week was a yard-work kind of week. Spending time outside in October is no great strain, even if it involves blowing leaves, scrubbing pots, and bringing garden ornaments down cellar. In Maine, there is too much snow in the winter to leave most garden ornaments outside. I do leave a few of the staked ornaments out. Over the years, they have rusted and provide a nice contrast with snow.

In between work, I found time to admire the maple in our backyard.

Here is a close-up of this autumn glory.

But I also looked down and found this yellow fern.

Beauty above and beauty below.

Along with the beauty, there is also loss. A hard frost came and nipped the coleus.

But as my daughter Dee pointed out, the coleus brought color to our shady yard from June through October. And for this we are all grateful.

As we worked, Kai alternately napped and kept track of what we were doing. Here he is in napping mode. His perch allows him to survey the backyard. If you look closely, you can see the gazebo’s frame behind him.

Late Sunday afternoon, Clif suggested, “How about having a fire tonight?”

I thought about this for two seconds. “Great idea!”

The patio was covered in leaves, but it took me only five minutes or so to blow them off. Then it was a simple matter to set up the fire pit, chairs, and little tables, one of them makeshift—a bucket lid on an upturned plant pot. Worked wicked good, as we would say in Maine.

“How about some popcorn for a snack?” I asked.

Clif nodded. “And hot chocolate.”

Perfect for a chilly late afternoon.

We stayed out until the sky was dark and the moon rose and the solar lights came on.

A finest kind of way to end one week and begin another.

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Reading

I am the creative nonfiction editor for Résonance, an electronic literary journal “that seeks to encourage…creative works by established and emerging writers, primarily…about the Franco-American communities of the United States.” (From the mid-1800s to the early 1900s,  roughly a million French Canadians emigrated to the United States, my ancestors among them. My family name is Meunier.)

The journal is published annually, and Volume 8 is now available. And what a fantastic issue it is, if I do say so myself. In the creative non-fiction section, the varied pieces show the range of what it is to be Franco-American, and the writing takes us not only across our country but around the world in unexpected ways. The journal also features an interview, book reviews, fiction, and poetry. Please take a look, if you have the time.

Over the next several weeks, I’ll highlight specific essays. Today, it’s “Trader Joe and Trader Vic: French Canadians, Otherness, and the Taste of Difference” by Leslie Choquette and Jay Gitlin. In “Trader Joe and Trader Vic,” Choquette and Gitlin explore the history of these two businesses and the founders’ Franco-American heritage. It’s a lively, informative piece that certainly taught me something I didn’t know, and I’m Franco-American.

Enjoy!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Books, Fall, News

Back for a Bit

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For now, my part is finished for the proof copy of my soon-to-be-published book, Darcy Dansereau and the Missing Children. I’ve written the blurb, a brief bio, and a dedication to a childhood friend. Until I have the actual proof copy in hand, there’s not much to do on Darcy. So back to blogging, and I’ll also resume work on book six, Iris Starmoss, Elf Detective.  As the saying goes, no rest for the wicked. However, when I get the proof copy, I will need to take another break.

Luckily, I have a kitty assistant to help me write. She is a stern judge who hates the passive voice.

Along with getting the proof copy ready, I have been working on fall chores as the leaves come down, down, down. At least once a week, I use the leaf blower to clean the driveway. This will be an ongoing chore until all the leaves have fallen.

Yesterday, I helped Clif take down the roof and sides of the gazebo. Now only the skeleton remains, along with happy memories of summer nights spent on the patio.

I have emptied and scrubbed most of my outdoor pots. The coleuses are the last of the potted plants, and I’ll get to them soon. Then, I’ll bring in the outdoor ornaments. We have too much snow to leave them out year-round. Following the advice of my blogging friend Jason, who died a few years ago, I don’t cut back the plants in the fall. Instead, I wait until spring. I have done this for several years, and the plants do just fine.

In between fall chores, I have found time to take a couple of autumn pictures.

A leaf on our front porch,

and color in the woods behind our house.

We are nearly halfway through October, and I wish I could implore this beautiful month to slow down, to not go by so fast. But October moves in her own time and, of course, won’t listen to me.

So I’ll take time each day to enjoy the blaze of red, orange, and yellow; the golden glow of the slanted sun; and the crisp but not cold air.

Oh, October!

 

Cats, Celebrate, Food, News

Success! Plus, Gotcha Day and a Short Break

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Success

On Saturday, the weather gods were kind to us. The day was sunny, and the temperature was relatively mild—in the mid-60s. Off to southern Maine we went to join Shannon and Mike at Stonewall Kitchen and have lunch at their cafe.

Stonewall is such a pretty place.

And while the day was a bit chilly, we wore jackets and were able to eat outside.

I chose my favorite—grilled brie with fig jam and homemade chips on the side.

And a whoopie pie for dessert.

As always, we had a wonderful time talking and catching up. Because of our schedules, Covid, and the weather, the last time we got together was in June for Father’s Day. We, of course, text regularly, but it’s not the same as meeting in person and having a good chinwag, as our friends across the pond might put it.

All too soon it was time to head home—south for Shannon and Mike, north for me, Dee, and Clif. And with the trees glowing in their fall finery, what a beautiful drive it was.

Next birthday: Dee’s at the end of October.

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Gotcha Day

Sunday, October 4 was Gotcha Day for our two cats, Fern and Kai. Hard to believe it’s been a whole year since we adopted them. They have settled very nicely into our routine, and I can’t imagine the household without them. So many cats are given up to shelters, lots of kittens and lots of adult cats. (Kai and Fern were two when they came to live with us.) Poor creatures, totally at the mercy of humans, who are not always merciful. For folks who love cats (and dogs), adopting one or two from a shelter and giving them a good home is such an act of kindness.

Anyway, here Fern and Kai will stay until they cross the rainbow bridge. Happy gotcha day, Fern and Kai! So glad you are with us.

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A Short Break

In November, my fifth book, Darcy Dansereau and the Missing Children, will be published. My first four books revolved around a mysterious place called the Great Library, involving good librarians and bad librarians. Darcy Dansereau takes place closer to home, in Waterville, Maine. There is some magic—I can’t seem to write a story without it—but it’s primarily a slice-of-life novel, a coming-of-age story,  a portrait of an artist as a young girl. (This is a gentle nudge for those who don’t read fantasy. You just might like this one.) As the title suggests, the book is also a mystery involving missing children that Darcy and her friends must solve.

Here is a rough draft of the cover. It still needs some work. Either the leaves on the trees must go, or the white on the sidewalk, which looks like snow, must go. I think maybe my name should be moved to the right of Darcy. Anyway, Clif is working on it. But the image below gives a basic idea of what the cover will look like.

Over the next month or so, there will be a lot of work getting the book ready, and this entails many fiddly things. Therefore, I’ll be taking a break for a few weeks to get the book ready for publication.

When I come back, there will be a giveaway contest for the book, and I’ll send it to the winner anywhere in the world, from Maine to South Africa.

See you in a few weeks!

 

 

Celebrate, Food, Movies

What a Difference 300 Miles Makes

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On Saturday, we were supposed to get together with Shannon and Mike to celebrate birthdays—mine and Clif’s—at Stonewall Kitchen in York, Maine. But you know what they say about the best-laid plans. A nor’easter—in September!—roared up the Eastern Seaboard. It slammed the coast, as nor’easters always do, and Shannon and Mike, who live in the Boston area 300 miles to the south, quite sensibly canceled. A good thing, too. Winds reached 60 miles per hour; poles and wires were knocked down, along with an occasional tree. And, unsurprisingly, there was flooding.

But in central Maine, where we live, we barely got a sprinkle. (In fact, we would have liked more rain.) We decided that even though we couldn’t celebrate with Mike and Shannon, which was disappointing, we could do a little something on our own on Saturday.

So off we went to Wei-Li Restaurant in Auburn, about a half hour from where we live, and well out of the Nor’easter’s path. Wei-Li is one of the best—if not the best— Chinese restaurants in the area, and it is our number one choice for special occasions. Somehow, the food tasted better than usual, and while we were sorry not to get together with Mike and Shannon, we certainly enjoyed our meal.

Sunday was Clif’s actual birthday, his 75th, and naturally, we had to do a little something on that day, too. To start with, I cooked Clif a Sunday-morning brunch,

In the afternoon, we went to the cinema to see a re-release of the 2019 Avengers: Endgame. (It is the sequel to Avengers: Infinity War.)

Endgame, featuring the superhero team the Avengers, is surprisingly deep for a Marvel Comics movie and as relevant as ever. In brief: The powerful Thanos (Josh Brolin), an Eternal, decides the universe is out of balance, and to fix this, with the help of the Infinity Stones, he wipes out half the population of every habitable planet, including, of course, Earth, the focus of the movie.

In Infinity War, Thanos achieved his goal, and in Endgame, there is worldwide mourning on Earth as family members grieve the disappearance of loved ones who instantly vanished. Endgame explores the grief in a moving, unrushed way, and the movie is long on feelings and short on battle scenes, which is just fine with me.

As I watched Endgame, it occurred to me that this movie is a rebuke to people who long for an apocalypse, a good cleansing of humanity. In real life, there are more of these people than you might think, both on the far right and the far left. Some of them are very rich indeed and in positions of great power. I suppose when such people yearn for this great cleansing of humanity, they imagine their families and loved ones will be spared. It won’t be their mothers, daughters, sons, and fathers who will be crushed and hurt. Oh, no. They will be safe in underground bunkers or on faraway islands or in space. Because they are the deserving chosen ones, they will be spared.

Endgame makes it perfectly clear what havoc this kind of thinking—hubris really— wreaks. It is up to the Avengers, among them Iron Man, Captain America, and the Hulk, to try to reverse Thanos’s damage.

Alas, in real life, we are short of Avengers, and the people opposing the proponents of various apocalypses seem outmatched and outspent. We can only hope that those who love this planet and want a more humane outcome will prevail.

After such a deep, dark movie, you might think our spirits would have been too low for more celebration. But you would be wrong.

Not ready to call it a day, we went to Margaritas in Augusta for drinks and snacks and had a good time discussing the movie.

Here is the birthday boy. I know I might be biased, but I think Clif still looks pretty darn cute at 75.

Happy birthday, Clif!

Addendum: We plan to get together with Shannon and Mike on Saturday, October 3. Fingers crossed there are no bad storms to skunk our plans.

 

Books, Fall, Flowers

Tapping on Autumn’s Shoulder

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In the Northern Hemisphere, we are one day away from the Autumnal Equinox—September 22. While I love this crisp time of year, I am always a little sorry to see a season end. (And, yes, I feel the same way about winter, too.) This summer, while too dry, was lovely nonetheless, with days that weren’t too hot or humid. At least most of the time. It actually felt like an old-fashioned Maine summer, the ones I remember from my childhood. So farewell, Summer! While I hope 2027 has more rain, I hope we have the same lovely temperatures.

Yesterday, I took some pictures of our yard and road to chronicle the changing season.

The coleuses are still thriving and will continue to do so until a hard frost nips them.

But I have stopped deadheading the flowers, and now that summer is coming to an end, they are free to be their rangy, spiky selves.

The begonias are doing well, too, and provide a welcome burst of color by the front door.

As for the gardens…well, we are heading toward late September, and as always, the plants are pretty much done blooming for the year. The picture below gives readers a pretty good idea of what the gardens look like. (Oh, the phlox was so beautiful this summer!) Readers can also see the progress on the house. The new siding is up, and the window frame is patched. Next comes the painting.

While the gardens are in decline, the trees, with just a tinge of color,  are beginning to gear up for their autumn glory. I went to the end of our driveway and took this picture of our road. Still a lot of green, but there is a slight blush of color.

And in our driveway, a little color, too, a preview of what will come when the leaves coat the driveway in a thick carpet. Then we turn to our trusty leaf blower—electric, of course—to help clear the driveway.

But that’s a couple of weeks away.

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Reading

I had planned to keep a monthly book log, but as I thought about my birthday challenge—70 books by 70—it seemed better to list them by the week. That way, I can go into them with a little depth without having readers’ eyes glaze over from too much information.

Book 1 of my 70 by 70 challenge

John of John by Douglas Stuart

Warning: Minor Spoilers

John-Calum (Cal) has graduated from art school, but unable to find a job, he couch-surfs at his friends’ homes and steals food from them when they are away. Therefore, when Cal’s difficult father, John, summons Cal home to Harris, an island in the Outer Hebrides, Cal only hesitates briefly. When John tells Cal that his grandmother is sick, this clinches the deal.

So home Cal goes, to his angry, sometimes abusive father, his beloved grandmother, Ella, and the tight religious community—Free Presbytarian—he left behind for the sinful big city.

Cal’s father is a lay preacher, sheep farmer, and weaver with a true feel for color and texture. He is also gay, a fact he hides from almost everyone, including his son. Cal is gay, too, and he also hides this from his father and most of the island community. This tension—a closeted father and son—drives the story, dialing up the emotional temperature of the book.

I became totally immersed in the world Stuart created—the austere beauty of the island as well as the family turmoil—and I read avidly late into the night to find out how the conflicts would play out.

But I do have two major criticisms.

First, religion is initially up front in John of John and of great importance. But as the story progresses, religion is pushed to the back burner to make way for Cal’s and John’s issues. The minister is never more than a one-dimensional figure, and while the church is featured from time to time and even causes a violent confrontation between Cal and John, it just doesn’t get the time it should in this story. After the chains-in-the-playground incident—put there to stop kids from playing on Sunday—I wanted much more about the Free Presbyterians, a group I had never heard of until I read this book.

Second, John is a violent, angry father who still beats his twenty-two-year-old son. Yet it felt as though the reader was supposed to root for John’s search for self-actualization in the book’s concluding chapters. While I had some sympathy for John and his conflicts, I found I couldn’t cheer him on as he tries to come to terms with his sexuality. Stuart made him too hard and too abusive. In short, John is a real canker.

But I was with Cal—sometimes selfish, sometimes good-hearted— all the way, even when he made bad choices. And it was this sympathy that kept me reading.

Books, Celebrate, Movies

Sixty-nine on the Fifteenth

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Tuesday, September 15, was my 69th birthday. Regular readers will know that our motto for birthdays and other special days is to celebrate early, celebrate often with simple pleasures. And that is exactly what we did for my birthday.

On Saturday, we went to Buen Apetito, one of our favorite restaurants in Waterville. We always start with margaritas, chips, and salsa before we move on to our meals. With its tasty food and lovely service, Buen Apetito is a pleasure for any occasion, special or not.

Yesterday, my actual birthday, was filled with many simple pleasures. Dee, Clif, and I took the day off, and Clif cooked us a delicious brunch.

After brunch, I went outside to take some pictures of the September garden.

In the afternoon, we—surprise, surprise!—went to a movie, The Uprising, starring, among others, Andrew Garfield. The Uprising is about the 1381 Peasants’ Revolt in England. Taxed beyond endurance and demoralized by the Bubonic Plague, Garfield, who plays Ploughman, helps lead the peasants to London to petition a very young and weaselly Richard II to relieve their burden. I will say no more about the plot except to note that Richard II gets what’s coming to him about twenty years later, when his cousin Henry Bolingbroke becomes Henry IV. (This is not featured in the movie, but as a Shakespeare fan, I am very familiar with “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”) Until a completely unbelievable, made-up ending, The Uprising is a good movie, stirring and brutal and more than a little applicable to modern times.

After the movie, we picked up pastries from Barnes & Noble and headed to our favorite place of all, our own backyard, where we had drinks, snacks, and dessert.

I had a very good day indeed and will celebrate yet again when we meet Shannon and Mike at the end of the month for more birthday brouhaha.

Celebrate early, celebrate often!

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Reading

A Challenge: 70 by 70

I decided to challenge myself by setting a goal of reading 70 books by my 70th birthday. As I read between 50 and 60 books a year, this will be a bit of a push for me. However, I feel as though I am up to the challenge.

I am currently reading John of John by Douglas Stuart, and this will be the first book of my challenge. (John of John, along with The Things We Never Say by Elizabeth Strout, is long-listed for the 2026 Booker Prize. I’m not sure whether I will read the whole list, but I plan to add one or two more from it.)

 

 

 

 

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