Reading

This photo has nothing to do with this post, but see that blurry lacy shrug Baby is wearing? Something I made her last week.

I love to read to the girls at night. Even when I'm mad at them. I take it real seriously; I get grumpy if they aren't paying full attention.  Real grumpy. Back in the Little House on the Prairie days, it wasn't unusual for me to spend an hour at night, just reading. And I insisted on their full attention.

Well, we finished that series and baby came along and, well, I don't always read for that long at night, but we've made it through quite a few really good books since Fall, including:

Something Wicked This Way Comes - Ray Bradbury
Goblin Secrets - William Alexander
Poppy  - Avi

And now, we're on The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making. So far it's been a great read.

But for as much as I read to the girls, I almost never read to myself for pleasure, not at home. I save all my reading time for the train, which leads me to the point of this post.

I have just finished a wonderfully sad and funny and intelligent historical novel called A Moment in the Sun, by John Sayles. It was one of those books that had me laughing out loud and crying real soft and making all sorts of funny faces on the train. And it was 1000 pages long. That's a lot of train rides.

What are you reading these days?