By Laura Grimes
After the first hedgehog/book club post went up, a super secret source sent me this story. I copied and pasted it here exactly as it was sent to me except that the names have been changed to protect the innocent, the guilty and the identity of my source. A background note: The source’s family had lived in a large rambly house before moving to a high-rise condo.
By Laura Grimes
Book Club was great fun.
After I wrote my last post, a book clubber discovered it and broadcast it to the rest of the group. Then the email trail went eerily quiet. This is not a quiet email group. It’s not overly communicative, but the stillness was … worrisome. Were they ticked that I ratted them out?
Nah. Everyone arrived and, reminding them we were to celebrate all things French in honor of our book, The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery, I immediately trained everyone in the double-cheek airkiss. They caught on fast.
By Laura Grimes
Book Club is coming. Book Club is coming.
And it’s coming to my house.
I never thought I was a Book Club person. I love the idea of a gathering of people for the primary reason of discussing a book, but I chafe at the thought of being told what to read, spending hours on a book that I didn’t pick, and facing a deadline to finish reading something when I prefer to just enjoy it as a leisurely hobby. And then there’s the looming threat to be disciplined about finishing a book. The dreaded D word.
But a funny thing … I developed a liking for these people. I thought I would have Book Club Commitment Issues (like George Clooney), but I’ve grown so … so … attached.