Of Birthdays, Books, And Fun

After a few weekends in a row of scheduled things, these last two days have been fantastic. Maybe I’m bragging, but I want to share this, anyway. You don’t have to read it. Feel free to walk away. Close the tab.

No? Still here? Then no bitching allowed.

Saturday was unexpectedly beautiful. Weather-wise and otherwise. Got together with one of my best friends, and we had a million things to talk about. She is also an amazing photographer and gave me an excuse to dress up and jump around in a corset. Good times.

Saturday also became the third non-writing day this year. And I am quite okay with that fact. (I feel like I have to announce those — to keep myself honest, but also because I’m so damn proud of them. I don’t get it, either.)

I had the chance to re-read Tamora Pierce’s Immortals quartet, as I’ve wanted to do for over a year, because I finally found my copy in the boxes of crap I’ve had stored in my grandmother’s basement who-knows-how long. It’s strange for me to realize all the time I don’t have for reading any more. After this weekend, I’m averaging four books a month; I used to more than double that number without really trying.

I also used to work in a bookstore. Part-time. That helped.

And my sister turned 30 today. I called her and told her she was old. Not to worry: she’ll remind me of this next year, when my turn comes along. And if our older sisters ever find out, they will exact their own revenge.

(Note: In case it isn’t glaringly obvious, 30 is not actually ‘old’ unless you’re a kid, in high school or younger.)

I still have a couple more hours left to my weekend, and those I will spend writing. There’s a new notebook to break in, after all.

Tell me something good about your weekend!

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