So, thanks to Mother's Day and my anniversary, my dear husband has gifted me with nine (NINE!) books, and I am in heaven. I couldn't help but open up Stephanie Pearl-McPhee's knitting memoir "Yarn Harlot", and now I am hooked. She writes about her stash of yarn, and the various places she hides it, and how most of it will never be knit, and I just had to laugh because I myself have a stash . . . of books. (Okay, I've got the yarn stash too, but it's not THAT bad.) I have books purchased two or more years ago that I have not yet read because my mood isn't right. I have books in every room of our house, and the shelves are sagging. I don't know where I will fit the books I received this week, but the challenge of arranging them (by genre and then alphabetically, just like the liberry!) intrigues me. Things I was planning on reading "next" (some six or so books) have just been bumped down the playlist. Right this minute I am halfway through "Elantris" by Brandon Sanderson, "Yarn Harlot", "Just As I Am" by my dear friend Virginia Smith, and "The Cat Who Went to Heaven" by Elizabeth Coatsworth. Thrilling! And now, sitting on my kitchen table, we have "Now We Are Six" by A. A. Milne, "Fire Watch" by Connie Wilis, "The Silmarillion" by Tolkien, "The Lightning Thief" by Rick Riordan, "Thieves Like Us" by Stephen Cole, "Charlie Bone and the Hidden King" by Jenny Nimmo, and "Shadowmarch: Volume One" by darling Tad Williams. (Haven't read "The War of the Flowers" by Williams? Shame on you!) So many pretty books, so little time. And shelf space.