Stories with Sophie

  Here it is. My TBR pile. All the books Mom has given me in the last few months. She says they're great. I'll really enjoy them.  And yet.  They sit beside my bookshelf. Waiting. Waiting for me to dive in and devour them now that I have more time to read. But, I don't. Because -- Every. Single. One. is a World War II novel. Most are set in Germany. Some in camps. Some about strong women who fight. Some about survival. But I just can't do it. With all the crap going on in the world  United States, I just can't read these. Right now I need books that are happy, fluffy, uplifting. A good mystery will do, so will a story of family. But WWII novels, dystopian novels. Nope. So for now, these are going to stay piled beside my bookshelf. Waiting.

GRACE found me. This quarantine has been more difficult than what we started at the beginning of March. Maybe because we were able to spend so much time at the lake with friends and family around. Maybe because the last one was an adventure in survival and this one seems more like real life.  I don't know. But whatever the reason, it's tougher. I don't focus on anything. I spend too much time on mindless Facebook games. I start projects and abandon them (and leave the mess). Start a book and abandon it. Start a blog post and abandon it.  And other people? I have horrible conversations with others, all in my head, of course. But still. I rail at them for not living up to some perfectionist standard I've created in my head. I feel like an imposter at times. Horrible wife, mom, grandma, and friend. Why didn't I create wonderful holiday get-togethers on Zoom? Why didn't I think to ship each Christmas gift in separate boxes instead of one big one? Why didn't I se