Marriage is a sacrament and sex is sacred to the bonds of marriage. This is not just some over-the-top ideal but how some people do, and all people will one day, live. I hate the cheapening of something so beautiful, so important and so loaded with meaning. Sex is not “just” anything. It is not “just” a physical act. It is not “just” a release. It is not “just” a moment of pleasure. It is rich and complex and rife with meaning. It makes one person out of two seperate adults and then, millions of times every year, makes another whole human being. It heals wounds in a marriage, cements emotions good or bad and can wound deeply. It is sacred and playful and mystical and procreative. It is humbling. It is serious and hilarious and the hilarity is tinged with awe. It is a terrifying gift, a small picture of the relationship between Christ and the Church and that is why it ought not to be cheaply portrayed.

I don’t think every depiction of sex is necessarily a violation but it is very difficult for me to deal with the emotional roller coaster of reading about it. Like teevee shows depicting violent crimes or movies where children die, I have to be wary of that which stirs too deeply without cause. Real children suffer, real marriages crumble, I want to save my pity for them.

Home life has been a bit dull lately. No big projects, no exciting adventures in the last few weeks. The boys have a couple of handfuls and I’ve been ready to buy a ticket to Siberia just to get out of the house! We’ve been doing the usual domestic stuff, cooking, cleaning, baking, etc. But none of it has been earth-shattering. Alex likes to clump around in my high heels (and is doing it right now), he also likes to take all his clothes off, if I leave him alone long enough. Typical right? Luc is just happy to be walking and while he’s still pretty slow, he’s steady and stable.

I’m out of coffee and that is making this morning exceptionally tough. Off to find caffeine…

Huck Finn is finished and I now realize that I had never read it all the way through before. Great book though. It hits all the right notes for what it is and, I think, is justly considered the first work of American literature. Although I’m more of a British lit gal, I still appreciated it. I don’t much care for Twain’s scepticism, his crudity and his  irreverance. I know many admire him for these qualities and I know that they represent much of the American voice yet I still don’t have much affection or admiration for it.

Anyway, good book, justly classic and all that, maybe not a long-term favorite.

It seems to me that the majority of my readers are women. So today we are having a gender-discrimanatory contest.

For the women, I have a “manly” book. Written by John Muir, the autobiographical My First Summer in the Sierra is a refreshing account of exploration and adventure. Just tell me one positive aspect of patriarchy to enter.

For the men, I have two wonderful and typically feminine books. A pair of novels by Jane Austen, Persuasion and Mansfield Park. Since “real men read Austen” tell me, one positive aspect of feminism to enter the contest.

I will pick my favorite answers from each sex and send out the books. I am eager to read your answers.

I go to a local coffeehouse Saturday mornings (because my husband is awesomely sweet and helpful) and there is an older (70-ish) gentleman that is there every Saturday at the same time I am. He has spoken to me a few times and finds my reading project interesting, and this week I claimed to have an international audience for my writing…so thanks to the three or four of you from around the world, I sounded super-cool. Thank you.

Of course, then he went on to ask me if I had a sister because he was looking for a woman. Umm…40 year age difference may not creep him out but it sure did me! I actually told him that none of my three sisters were that old! I’m not sure he was pleased. I don’t really care.

I started Tom Sawyer and was incredibly refreshed! The best books have an comfort to them. They challenge (well, not Tom) and soothe and satisfy. I’m happy. I love reading and only have 25 books left in my list! Yay for me!

I’m anxious to get back to some serious classics. Huck Finn is up for book club and I’ve still got The Republic and Lao Tzu waiting for me. Yay!

If you’ve never had the chance, make brownies with a half cup of peanut butter chips in them. My husband raves.

Any thoughts on unionizing for the 30 hour work week? No? We have an economic crisis? What are you saying!?

I didn’t finish To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf like I should have but hope to keep from falling behind again. I’m still pretty groggy, so nothing substantive today, but best wishes on Friday Eve. May the week end quickly!

Ummm…not reading that to my kids…

Aesop is over and I’m not sorry. I must confess to my first “skimming” of the year though. I didn’t fully read the “Reflections” following each fable. They were so dull, so often illogical and so long, that I just couldn’t take it after about page 150. Forgive me.

I finished up the last of Naguib Mahfouz’s books Thebes at War and encourage you to get out there and pick up a copy. His Cairo Trilogy was excellent and now his three novels of Ancient Egypt are my list of recommends. They are simply lovely books. I couldn’t put them down…and not just because of some reading goal!

Now I’m trying to get Aesop finished up quickly so I don’t lose it at the dry style and moralizing “Reflections”.

Oh! I almost forgot to mention! This is the day 12 years ago when I first met my little brother. My mom insisted she wasn’t sure if she was really in labor right up until she almost broke my hand squeezing it during contractions. So lucky me got to play “catch” with an incredibly slippery, incredibly precious baby boy. I love you bro!