Category Archives: Slice of Life

Too Much of a Good Thing

I’ve been away from the blog for a while. Not because I have nothing to say. Simply because I haven’t been reading YA. 

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Heart Full of Story

My alarm cheerfully–maybe too cheerfully–signaled the start of a new day, and I slapped the snooze. Grabbing my phone, I began the daily scroll through news and notifications. Nothing like getting the blood pressure spiked before getting out of bed. Only today, what caused my alarm was not the latest shenanigans in DC or the recent COVID numbers, it was that my phone was at 10%.

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A slice of Manderly

There’s nothing I enjoy more on a long weekend than digging into a book. So when Saturday morning dawned, I wandered into the family room with a copy of Rebecca by Daphne DuMaurier, grabbed my favorite wool throw, and cuddled up on the sofa to read.

As I read the famous first sentence, “Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again,” I found I  was in a place both familiar and completely foreign. I had never read Rebecca, but it had been on my tbr for a long, long time. And one can’t study literature without knowing that first line. It’s as known as the opening lines to Pride and Prejudice or A Tale of Two Cities. And so my journey to Manderly began.

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Chipping Away–A reading slice of life

My home office is on the second floor of my house. There are two unused bedrooms and a full bath upstairs. In a word, it is the perfect retreat for work and writing. It’s not a great space for reading, but it does hold many of my books.

The north wall of the office contains four ladder style bookshelves–two sets next to the closet door, two sets next to the window, and a sofa table/bookshelf combo in the middle. The bookshelves are overflowing with books. And definitely don’t contain all of the books I have–not even close.

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Slice of (Reading) Life

Nothing is better than Christmas break. The days are full of a lot of time reading in jammies on the couch. Tuesday, December 29 was one of those days. I snuggled up on the couch, the sun streamed through the bow window, there was a wool throw over my lap, and the dog was cuddled up against my side. Christmas carols played through the speakers. And most importantly, I was reading a book that had thoroughly absorbed my imagination: The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett.

The day promised to be great.

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