My desire to read books is based on the place I found them - I suppose that's kind of odd. Some book stores are better than others and often I feel a bit lost and overwhelmed in most of them, and as a result I find it hard to pick the "right book" (unlike Jesse who seems to be in a blissful state in any one). Last weekend we stumbled across a great book store in Philadelphia - I think it was called The Next Page, part of the friends of the Philadelphia Free Library. Almost every book I picked up off the shelf looked interesting! I love it when that happens. I had to restrain from only purchasing the above ones, though I wanted about ten more. Perhaps I might have been more tempted, save for the wintry mix pummeling down outside.
When we got back on Monday I picked up A Year in Provence. I hadn't heard of it, but the description told me that it was about an English couple who drops everything and buys a stone farmhouse in Provence. So it sold me pretty quickly given that's kind of my dream right now. I didn't know what to expect but it's hilarious (think Douglas Adams meets Provence). So funny that I decided we needed to read it out loud to each other; making me way too excited to come home to read every night.
