If you were one of the dozens of people who walked past my dining room window this morning (I really ought to start putting on more of a show), you might have been struck by a veritable picture of domesticity.  You may have seen me dart from sewing machine to baking muffins to pinning quilt pieces into a pattern.  I have measured and I have stitched and I have tested for doneness with a toothpick.  (We have reaped and we have sowed… except the spring version.)

I finished Inkheart.  I liked it.  Maybe my problem is with the translation?  The language never felt quite right…but I may be influenced by KNOWING it’s in translation.  Maybe I wouldn’t have noticed if I’d been oblivious.  The characters, though, were delicious.

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