Books You Read Over and Over

I have three books (okay, one is a series of books) that I read over and over throughout my life. I read all of them for the first time between the ages of nine and eleven. I assure that I do read other books, but these are the repeats that I consciously replace every time I lose one, because I will be reading them again.
The first is the Dune Series, by the elder Herbert. The second is Shogun, of Clavell. The third is The Source, by Michener.
How about you? Do you have a book you read every five years or so throughout your life? I am curious as to what it would be.


This year International Women’s Day went much better for me. Hardly any PTSD. Didn’t want to contribute, but didn’t have sleepless nights and irritable days, either.
I am so glad I don’t have to write about it any more. I can do it if I want, and I can tell the TRUTH:
The man making me write this is beating me right now and calling me ¨stupid¨. He does not believe in what he makes me say in his name.

Nothing published by him, now, in years on the issue of women’s rights. Rightfully so. So glad it is all over.

Failed Dinners

Sometimes, the food you get is expired, and not just by date. Sometimes there is a reason it was donated. Some of it is so mass produced by the lowest bidder that it tastes like chemicals and not like food at all.
You put time into it, making dinner. You have bought the accessories to flesh it out, make it a meal. But every once in a while it is not enough. Especially when I am learning about meat. I have no idea if it is palatable or not.
Today is one of those nights. The kids know it happens once in a while, usually with ground meats. But watching each child excuse themselves with their food tasted but uneaten and knowing you have wasted the condiments and flavorings and the bread surrounding the meat is hard. Really hard.
It makes me feel like crying, initially. The kids have agreed that when they get hungry they will help me get something together, so that I do not spend all night in the kitchen.
Weekends are exhausting. I work much harder at home than I do at my weeklong job.
I still have more to do.