“Perseverance is not a long race; it is many short races one after the other.”*

Just finished Mary Kay Andrews’ Deep Dish. God, she writes fun books. Everything always turns out ok and the jerks always get what’s coming to them in a most satisfying manner. I only wish Andrews had included the recipe for the shrimp salad.

Now I am reading Rachel Pastan’s This Side of Married. Did I mention how much I liked Lady of the Snakes? I liked it a lot. Yes, there were flaws, and it was clunky in parts, and I hated the character of Billy the husband from the get-go (what grown man goes by Billy?) but I look forward to Pastan’s future work. I am also - so far - enjoying her previous novel.

I bought a bunch of stuff at Half Price Books last week, mostly for Primo (including 4 volumes of re-issued Enid Blyton stories like “The Magic Treacle Jar,” and a couple of Charlie Bone books, but the biggest hit was a thick omnibus issue by Gordon Korman called something like Nosepickers from Outer Space. Primo howled out loud while reading it TWICE in two days. )

I scored Nigella’s Feast for ten bucks. I am so in love. I admit it.

I picked up a couple other books - Away (I know I said it looked too depressing for words, but for a buck, I figured what the hey), Let the Northern Lights Erase Your Name (speaking of sounding depressing), and Detectives on Everest: The 2001 Mallory and Irvine Research Expedition (complete with photos! Of artifacts! Like dead bodies!) because the clearance shelves were full of stuff I wanted. I didn’t even look through the rest of the shelves, just the clearance ones. So much good stuff.

I also snagged a bunch of Laura Lippman Tess Monaghan novels at the church sale this past Sunday. Someone at church has more money than they know what to do with, because there are always brand new hardcover novels in the sale shelves all the time. This person must buy ‘em, read ‘em, and donate ‘em – much to my benefit. (Once I read these, I’ll re-donate them. I like Lippman but I don’t need to own them.)

But with the piles of books cluttering my bedroom (once the plumber takes out the kitchen sink on the 3rd floor and we can move bookshelves up there, I will only have to contend with half the fiction in there and I intend to build shelving right onto the wall), even I am slightly embarrassed to be bringing home MORE BOOKS. So I hid them in a plain brown cardboard carton and fish in there for something to fling at Primo when he whines, “I’m boooorrreddd!!!!”

Which only happens, oh, once every couple MINUTES.

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*Walter Elliott