everyone reads on the subways.
everyone that can, at least.
even parents read to their kids!
and sometimes i read to philip!
that's it, cell phones or books
and i chose neither for the first six to eight weeks we were here
mostly because i just didn't have a book.
i haven't talked too much on here about the
lack of a plethora
we brought (or didn't bring) with us,
but i still can't believe i haven't worn holes through all the socks i have
stretched my jeans out too terribly.
i didn't have a book!
and then one day,
i was walking to the train,
and lo/behold there was a book table set up.
with little irish people behind it.
because it was the weekend before St. Patrick's Day
was giving away books
GIVING AWAY BOOKS
about Irish things.
they asked only that you took one.
BOOKS BOOKS BOOKS.
i asked the lady what her favorite was,
and she didn't have an answer,
so i picked up a memoir.
i always love memoirs.
is one of the most awful/most beautiful books you might ever read.
one book in a series
this is the real tale of a baby/girl/child
growing up poor as heck in ireland in the depression ages.
she suffers a lot of things
mostly - an abusive step dad and being smarter than him.
he uses it to his advantage, often beating her and making her work for the family
while he sits on his ass and eats all the food.
i hugged philip and asked to be held.
i recounted tale after tale after tale in the book
completely appalled and abashed that this happened/happens/is happening.
I highly recommend it.
I'd ABSOLUTELY read the rest of the books in the series,
and i'm happy that this is the one book that kicked me back into my reading habits.