Sorry for the scarcity of posts this week, ye loyal readers. In addition to it being a migraine week, I've had a crick in my back and neck and not a lot of sleep. Maybe I'll manage a major catch-up post or two this weekend.
Three point six percent of the registered voters in Charlotte could be bothered to vote Tuesday, a record low. We had about 85 show up at our precinct. It was such a slow day that even the workers who bring a book but never open them actually made some progress. There was a Ruth Rendell, a Nicholas Sparks, a Reader's Digest Condensed Book, a Harlequin, and a book by the guy who shouts on Mad Money.
I read Stewart O'Nan's The Good Wife, then skipped about in the Smiley.
A bang, not a whimper
Two months into L.'s retirement, and I'm finished with the stockpiling of books. No more book purchases! Or at least, no purcha...
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(See also Musee des Beaux Arts ) As far as mental anguish goes, the old painters were no fools. They understood how the mind, the freakiest ...
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Lou wondered where his information would go when he died. Would filaments of learning plant patterns on earth? Would his brain train the sin...
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