Bibliomama

I've been having a bit of trouble maintaining a good reading focus lately. I'm not sure whether it's perimenopause or too much electronics use or - most likely - a combination of both. When I'm reading on my ipad, not only do Twitter and Facebook notifications float across my screen, but if I think of something I wanted to know or if something I read touches off a string of associations - and when doesn't it? - it's way too easy to click away and look up the name or phrase or reference I'm thinking of. Further, if I force myself NOT to look it up right then, the likelihood that I will remember it later is very low. So I could stop and just make a note to look it up later, but then I'd still be interrupting my reading. You see my dilemma. Sometimes this kind of fuzziness leads to me starting multiple books in search of something that will hold my attention better, but I don't think that's actually the case this time. I usually read in the rough ...

Every time I think about blogging, I have to ask myself, what the hell am I doing? Why do I consistently find ways to avoid something that's really good for me, something that I do fairly well, something that I can literally do sitting on my ass in my kitchen, something that can easily take under half an hour?  The preceding question could fairly equally be applied to playing the piano (big piece of furniture one room over, somehow turns invisible when I walk past) and exercising (not the sitting on my ass part, but you get me.). I would almost certainly feel better if I did these things far more regularly. Why do I not do them? Do I hate myself?  Anyways. To just lay out a little of the stuff whirling around in my mind lately. Painting the main floor walls. When we moved in here, I was determined that we weren't going to have walls that were builder's white. I wanted colour, deeply saturated, more than one. We painted the family room a medium blue, the kitchen a sun...