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.