A Good Read

The kids left this afternoon, taking my truck and all the noise in this house with them. I mourned their presence for about 10 minutes and then I treated myself to a long bubbly soak in tub.

Warm and clean, I did a load of laundry, tidied up the kitchen, did some blogging then made a to do list to end all to do lists.

Satisfied that the lists in my brain were now recorded on paper, I slipped into my snow boots, wrapped a scarf around my neck and put on my big hoodie with the broken zipper. Tucked under my arm was my recyclable IGA bag and in my pocket was the coupon my sister gave me for free mixing bowls. Feeling like I was channeling my Omi (my dad's mom), I walked up to the shopping area to pick up some food, the mixing bowls and some DVD's.

I remember my Omi walking from her house on 46th to Fraser Street to pick up groceries with me when I stayed with her for night. She would bundle up, regardless of the season, and take along a sturdy bag to transport her purchases in. She recycled long before it was cool.

She was an independent woman, she was.

Anyway, walking back home with my bag of no-junk-food groceries, I thought of her. And her life. And from there I thought of my dad. And his relationship with her.

I have a feeling I just might blog about those thoughts one day. But not today. Tired of thinking, I picked up the book I bought for my mom for Christmas. I started to read it before I wrapped it, and I borrowed it back this morning.

If you're looking for an enjoyable, interesting, informative, historical, intelligent romance set in the 1940's, this would be a great book to consider:
Maybe that's why I had Omi on my mind.
When I think of WW2, I think of her life.
(Book #85 done.)