I should also add (and I don't know if anyone ever looks at the left hand side over there where I regale you with what I'm reading and viewing, and which I honestly don't update all that frequently, just in case you were worried about my slow reading) that I am thoroughly enjoying Travels with Charley.

I had this thing about Steinbeck for a long time, because he was my parents' favorite author. I thought "I just can't read Steinbeck." And then I'd make little snide comments about "Will there be bunnies?" or The Red Pony or something.

The other day though, I just thought "What the hell am I doing avoiding one of the greatest authors of the last hundred years on some ridiculous notion of rebellion that doesn't even make sense?" After all, I had read Steinbeck's King Arthur tales and really enjoyed them. And Steinbeck was practically from my home town.

So I went out and bought Travels with Charley and it felt really good buying it. I just may move on to Cannery Row after that.

I guess after a while you learn how very foolish you are, denying the very things that made you. The slow becoming is maybe creeping into me as I think of my lawn needing a mow and ponder the upcoming symphony season.

And that's just fine.