Last night I opened a book I just checked out from the library, and realized to my disappointment that I'd already read it--this is probably why the title seemed so familiar when I grabbed it. It's "The House on the Strand" by Daphne DuMaurier. It's a good one, so if you like DuMaurier's style you'll appreciate it.
For Christmas this year we gave our family skiing and snowboarding lessons--it was interesting to me that the sport each child chose was the same one I would have chosen for them if I'd had to guess what they wanted. Overall it's gone well except I fell and gave my head a good smack yesterday (but in a helmet, so at least my brains aren't all over the mountain), which cooled my ardor considerably. As ever, I am overthinking it instead of trusting my body to do what it's supposed to. But my body is not really an athletic body, so I think my mistrust is well-founded. Sometimes I feel like maybe I am trying to learn too many things. I mean, learning is important, and maybe it will keep me out of the nursing home a little longer, but if you have too many irons in the fire you just make a mess, which is where I sort of feel like I am. Like, I can't be practicing guitar AND derby AND snowboarding AND figuring out how to do a job AND running the rest of my life. It makes me feel a little wiggy.
