Yesterday the postman delivered three new books to me. Our postman has impeccable timing. Having just finished Wild by Cheryl Strayed, I wandered around the house in a dull depressed daze, stricken with the end-of-a-great-book-doldrums. And yes, I have tons more books I could be reading, but I couldn’t wait to receive these particular books.
Two were books about writing recommended by Crescent Dragonwagon during the Fearless Writing seminar I recently attended. Magical writing secrets were hidden inside these books, I was certain.
The other book Flights of Fancy was fresh off the press, written by Fearless attendee and my new friend Crow Johnson Evans. I wanted to read and own and smell the book published by someone I spent three days with writing and laughing and talking. And crying, there was a bit of crying. Crow was someone who gave me hope it could really happen, this book-writing-thing.
In addition to my three amazing books, we received a tardy Christmas card (but I’m not knocking it, I never mailed mine…), a(nother!) William-Sonoma catalog and a Cosmopolitan Magazine.
I don’t have a subscription to Cosmopolitan Magazine. I’ve never had a subscription to Cosmopolitan Magazine.
According to the label, John now has a six-month subscription to Cosmopolitan Magazine. His name was even spelled correctly.
What an interesting little twist.
I accused him of ordering it for me. He accused me of ordering it for him.
Was this a prank played by the guys at his office?
A strange mistake?
I don’t know, but he took that magazine to bed with him and read it front to back:) And it seemed to hold his attention better than those Game of Throne books he’s been wading through for weeks…