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Call Me Laura…

Yesterday, I took a trip to Walnut Grove. I was a modern day Laura Ingalls, blazing through the Polar Vortex or Snowpocalypse 2014 or whatever it was that made Indianapolis slightly colder than Antartica. Bundled against the temperature, we used candles and oil lamps to help heat our home because our furnace couldn’t beat the cold drafts coming through our doors and icing up our window frames like a freezer badly in need of defrosting. We scrounged for food. We only went outside when necessary.  And most importantly (and most pioneer-like), we were without internet. Or cable.  *gasp*

Continue reading “Call Me Laura…”

Books · Reading

What I’m reading right now…

Thanks to my Kindle Fire, which I love more than most of my other possessions put together, I tear through books these days.  Between the thousands of free books available on Amazon and the fact that our library is tied into the Overdrive system that lets me check out 12 books at a time, I am in book (and magazine) heaven.  The Kindle owns me.  I’ve read some pretty fantastic books lately so I figured I would start posting entries about the great books I’m reading.

For my first “What I’m reading right now” entry, here’s my current book:

 

An excerpt that basically feels like I wrote it myself:

“And, oh my God: I wanted to live in one room with my whole family and have a pathetic corncob doll all my own.  I wanted to wear a calico sunbonnet – or rather, I wanted to not wear a calico sunbonnet, the way Laura did, letting it hang down her back by its ties.  I wanted to do chores because of those books.  Carry water, churn butter, make headcheese.  I wanted dead rabbits brought home for supper.  I wanted to go out into the backyard and just, I don’t know, grab stuff off trees, or uproot things from the ground, and bring it all inside in a basket and have my parents say, ‘My land! What a harvest!'”

 

A lifelong love affair with everything having to do with Little House on the Prairie, as well as a vow when made when I was 18 to marry my very own Almanzo Wilder (which only happened if you consider the very urban African-American man I married to be Almanzo-like (he’s not)), makes this book the perfect late summer evening read.