In the movies, I am not the elegant lady that walks down the stairs and charms her guests with grace and beauty. I am the one that trips on her gown, spills wine on her new dress and tries to carry on a conversation with spinach stuck in between her teeth. Years ago, it used to affect my sense of self and make my depression worse. But I no longer see it that way. A writer once told me anything that does not go smoothly in life makes for a good story. I agree. And I have lots of stories.
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My story this week: Book Club
You've heard the stories and rumors. Women lying on couches or sitting in chairs drinking adult beverages. Women laughing, talking about life, and (perhaps) discussing the occasional book. These boisterous and rowdy gatherings are taking place across the country. It has become such a phenomenon that they have been given a specific name. Book Clubs.
Our books included A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith (532 pages)
Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow (834 pages)
The Ashes of London by Andrew Taylor (a much shorter book at 449 pages)
I called us the Fortune 500 because every book seemed to be around 500 pages.
Fortunately, we took turns selecting books. When it was my turn, I selected books at a more manageable 300 pages:
Twisted by Andrew Kaufman (321 pages)
Where the Forest Meets the Stars by Glendy Vanderah (332 pages)
In addition, some of our members also belonged to other book clubs at the same time. I guess one 800-page book was not enough!
I stepped away from my studious book club this year due to increased demands on my schedule. But I had the amazing opportunity to learn and to read some amazing stories!
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