500 pages

Just finished book two of a three part murder mystery series set in (and originally printed in) Sweden; The Girl Who Played with Fire. The trilogy will definitely end after the next book because the author died shortly after writing all 3. If you can get past all the Swedish names and places (very distracting), and aren't totally sickened by the sex trafficking storyline (oh how disturbing) then you'll probably get all caught up in the who-done-it just like I did.

On a lighter note, when I was (unfortunately, literally) jumping into bed last night, my boxspring and mattress crashed through my bedframe and landed with a decisive thud on my bedroom floor.

I moved into Max's vacated room for the night, surprising Clint when he came over at 4 am looking for a bed to use. (He took his bed but not the frame when he moved out last Fall.) "What the heck are you doing in here?" he asked (loudly and maybe a little bit annoyed.)

"My bed is broke." I mumbled.

"WHAT?"

"My bed doesn't work." I suggested.

"WHAT?"

"Go sleep on the couch." I said clearly.

So now I'm looking for someone who has a hammer, a screwdriver and some wood glue to come over and fix the broken bits. Man I wish my dad was still my dad.

Threeeee things I'm thankful for:

1. There IS a spare bed in my house. (And it had freshly washed bedding on it.)

2. There are 4 full length couches in my house for when my sons unexpectedly drop in looking for a place to spend the night.

3. Snappy, crunchy grapes.

Shalom,