Measuring Time.

Living with a child is a constant reminder of your own ever increasing age.  I can't believe how big he is getting.  I just finished mopping up both bathrooms.  Left momentarily unattended JAC flooded our upstairs bathroom.  The water seeped through the floor and in turn flooded the basement bathroom as well.  This added more sopping wet towels to my never ending mountain of laundry.

Last night I completed the chore I have been avoiding for almost four years.  I cleaned out under my bed.  Let me stop hear for a public service announcement.  Do not store stuff under your bed.  It is a horrible idea.  Your husband will walk in and find you covered in dust, hair, and clumps of dust bunnies while you attempt to retrieve lost items using your kitchen broom.  It was disgusting and really embarrassing.

While there were some really disturbing items under the bed most of the junk was my ever growing collection of books.  Books seem to mate and multiply in my house.  As I cleaned and sorted each book I couldn't help but grow a bit sentimental.  My life's course over the last four years could be charted through book titles.

Our books will not be making the trip to Kathmandu.  I have placed them in platoons of like titles as they await new homes.  There is the colossal stack of parenting books which span the gambit of acceptable parenting the behavior.  I own Positive Discipline, Dare to Discipline, Train Up Your Child, and a great Dog Training book I used to train JAC.  This just names a few.

I have a group of travel type writing from Michener to Theroux.  I like to read those books late at night when Jess was off working in worlds far away.  Speaking of worlds far away, I have a small collection of books about Afghanistan. Can I entice anyone to read Ghost Wars, or The Sewing Circles of Herat?

I have a pile of bible studies and books on theology.  I have controversial books like Blue Like Jazz and lesser known titles like Experiencing God.  Of course the largest pile contains my collections of novels.  There are some really great novels.  These are the books that transported me on bad days.  How could you read A River Runs Through Through It and not wish to live in Missoula?  Of course there are some terrible novels that made me wish for my money back.  Water For Elephants made me want to gag!

All of these books need a new home.  Stop by the Connelly house and I'll give you a stack.  Perhaps some day when you're covered in dust bunnies evaluating your life you will smile and think of a great book that thrilled or inspired you.