Here it is 10:46 pm and I don't know what to write. I left the house before nine this morning, drove my car over to Robin's then walked to the bus, where it seemed like I waited forever.
This was my last memoir writing class. I've invited the class to send stories to me and I'll post them on Silver Streakers. Check in tomorrow for the first one. I met Linda for lunch. Haven't seen her in a long time, so that was good. After a quick visit to the library I went to my audit class where I learned a little more about women in Asian art. I thought I was going to love this class, but it hasn't worked out that way. I went back to Robin's and walked Darcy for her. Finally home and dinner.
I now have five books on my night stand, probably four too many. I've been working on Ted Kennedy's memoir, which I'm not enthralled with. Some of it is interesting but I really don't enjoy books that begin with birth and work their way slowly and steadily through the subject's life. I prefer messier efforts. I have two books about Robert Flaherty, which I will just skim. At the library I picked up two more books: Jill Bolte Taylor's memoir, My Stroke of Insight, recommended by my memoir professor, and the best, The Angel's Game by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. His previous book, The Shadow of the Wind is one of my all-time favorites.