34 of 52

I started this book because Nancy Pearl recommended it, and it sounded like the sort of thing I would love: the early memoirs of a woman who spent most of her life as a book editor in London. I finished it only because it was the only book I had in the house, and because of 52in52. While I enjoyed some of the writing, particularly Athill's descriptions of her childhood home and the influence that that place had on her - the kind of nostalgia one has for a place that profoundly shaped one's childhood - overall, I found her secular humanist worldview to be too depressing.

I really miss the SPL. How am I going to finish the 52 in 52 challenge without it?

In other news: I'm eight weeks and two days pregnant, feeling nauseous every day, and needing naps. Oh yeah, and I'm showing. Showing! Already! Life is not fair. I have not called a doctor yet. According to our insurance there are no midwives covered by our network within a fifty mile radius of Upland. However, there is a hospital with two birthing tubs.

And in still other news: I am almost officially adjunct faculty at Taylor for the fall. Soon as a few more papers get signed, I'll be ready to teach ESL one afternoon a week. Jack will come home to watch Rosie while I'm teaching. Hurrah!