Several times over the past few years, my mom has said things to me like, "Do you keep a list of all the books you've read? You should. You should keep a list."
And I've always been like, "No, the effort of writing or typing out each individual book I've ever read seems really difficult."
BUT. Last night, I was looking at the Goodreads account that Viola convinced me to get seven years ago but that I've never actually used. And I realized that Goodreads has a super-handy reading tracker system that requires you to only click a picture of a book to put it on a "read" list.
And so I decided to do it. I'm embarking on a journey to record every single book that I've ever read on Goodreads.
At least, I'm going to try. Although I have a pretty great memory, I've been reading since the age of four. It's more than probable that I'll miss a few books here and there. Particularly the books I read when I was around seven and eight. We were given an hour or two of free reading time every morning in second grade. Childhood BF and I were in different classes, but we would frequently meet up in the library to check out books together. And we checked out a lot of books. A lot. The AR program tracked us as two of the most-read kids in the school. We would check out, read, and return multiple books each day. A lot of these books were from really long, really unremarkable children's series. I'll never be able to remember which of the books in said series I read and which ones I didn't. But I'm going to give it a good try, at least.
You guys. Today I added about half the books in my bookshelf on Goodreads plus all books I've read by those same authors. I've added the library books I've read recently plus all books I've read by those same authors. I've added a single shelf of books from my parents' house plus all books I've read by those same authors. And I'm at over 500 books!
I'm excited to see the final total. Stay tuned!
Showing posts with label Childhood BF. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Childhood BF. Show all posts
Friday, October 23, 2015
Friday, January 10, 2014
The One About Eating Grass
When I was a small and impressionable child, my childhood best friend told me how delicious grass tastes.
CHILDHOOD BF: Grass tastes so good!
As a small and impressionable child, I naturally didn't believe anything that anybody else told me. I had to disbelieve everything until I proved it for myself. So the best course of action to prove or disprove Childhood BF's claim was obviously to eat some of the grass that grew on the soccer field of the elementary school.
Childhood BF explained that in order to properly consume a lawn, one must not eat an entire blade of grass but only the tender white part at the tip of the root.
I selected a likely blade. Carefully I loosened it from the dirt, being careful not to break it off above the root. Delicately I bit the tender white part from the greenery. I chewed it. I swallowed. And-
"You're right!" I exclaimed. "Grass does taste so good!"
For several days, we spent our recesses eating grass. As we ate, we talked about how delicious the grass was and wondered if it could be improved upon.
After some debate, it was decided that the only thing that could improve grass was sugar. Sparkling sugar, snuck by the spoonful from the canister in the cupboard above the stove or poured from pink paper packets at a restaurant dinner. It tasted like dust from an angel's wings.
Yes, Childhood BF and I agreed, sugar would be just the thing to go with our grass roots. But since we couldn't get sugar during first-grade recess, we made do without.
One day, our teacher told our class that we were allowed to stay at recess for five extra minutes aka until the "late bell." Happily, we looked forward to five extra minutes of grass consumption.
This recess was also the recess that the other kids finally noticed the two girls eating the soccer field.
CLASSMATES: What are you doing?
US: Join us!
As a child, I had like this irresistible magnetism that caused people to go along with my ideas. I don't know where it came from or how it worked, but the force of this power caused three or four other kids to suddenly start eating grass, too.
We told them that we did this every recess. They thought that was awesome. We explained that sugar would go great with grass. They thought that was legit.
The recess bell rang.
CLASSMATES: (start to leave)
US: Where are you going?
CLASSMATES: The bell rang.
US: But remember? Mrs. First-Grade Teacher said we could stay out until the late bell!
CLASSMATES: Oh yeah! (go back to eating grass)
Every five minutes, another bell would ring, and our classmates would start to leave. But Childhood BF and I would sing, "It's not the late bell yet!" and then they would stay and continue to nibble tender white tips off grass roots with us.
To be clear: Childhood BF and I were not tricking our classmates. We were so caught up in the grass that none of the bells seemed late enough to us.
We were terribly surprised when Mrs. First-Grade Teacher came outside to collect us.
I can only imagine what she thought when she found her wayward students sitting in a circle on the soccer field, eating grass. I have to imagine because I don't remember her reaction. All I remember is that we weren't punished (and that it was neither the first nor last time that I received no punishment for a delinquent act I committed in elementary school. But those are stories for another time).
However. Let it be noted in the annals of time that after that recess, Childhood BF and I never ate grass at recess again.
CHILDHOOD BF: Grass tastes so good!
As a small and impressionable child, I naturally didn't believe anything that anybody else told me. I had to disbelieve everything until I proved it for myself. So the best course of action to prove or disprove Childhood BF's claim was obviously to eat some of the grass that grew on the soccer field of the elementary school.
Childhood BF explained that in order to properly consume a lawn, one must not eat an entire blade of grass but only the tender white part at the tip of the root.
I selected a likely blade. Carefully I loosened it from the dirt, being careful not to break it off above the root. Delicately I bit the tender white part from the greenery. I chewed it. I swallowed. And-
"You're right!" I exclaimed. "Grass does taste so good!"
For several days, we spent our recesses eating grass. As we ate, we talked about how delicious the grass was and wondered if it could be improved upon.
After some debate, it was decided that the only thing that could improve grass was sugar. Sparkling sugar, snuck by the spoonful from the canister in the cupboard above the stove or poured from pink paper packets at a restaurant dinner. It tasted like dust from an angel's wings.
Yes, Childhood BF and I agreed, sugar would be just the thing to go with our grass roots. But since we couldn't get sugar during first-grade recess, we made do without.
One day, our teacher told our class that we were allowed to stay at recess for five extra minutes aka until the "late bell." Happily, we looked forward to five extra minutes of grass consumption.
This recess was also the recess that the other kids finally noticed the two girls eating the soccer field.
CLASSMATES: What are you doing?
US: Join us!
As a child, I had like this irresistible magnetism that caused people to go along with my ideas. I don't know where it came from or how it worked, but the force of this power caused three or four other kids to suddenly start eating grass, too.
We told them that we did this every recess. They thought that was awesome. We explained that sugar would go great with grass. They thought that was legit.
The recess bell rang.
CLASSMATES: (start to leave)
US: Where are you going?
CLASSMATES: The bell rang.
US: But remember? Mrs. First-Grade Teacher said we could stay out until the late bell!
CLASSMATES: Oh yeah! (go back to eating grass)
Every five minutes, another bell would ring, and our classmates would start to leave. But Childhood BF and I would sing, "It's not the late bell yet!" and then they would stay and continue to nibble tender white tips off grass roots with us.
To be clear: Childhood BF and I were not tricking our classmates. We were so caught up in the grass that none of the bells seemed late enough to us.
We were terribly surprised when Mrs. First-Grade Teacher came outside to collect us.
I can only imagine what she thought when she found her wayward students sitting in a circle on the soccer field, eating grass. I have to imagine because I don't remember her reaction. All I remember is that we weren't punished (and that it was neither the first nor last time that I received no punishment for a delinquent act I committed in elementary school. But those are stories for another time).
However. Let it be noted in the annals of time that after that recess, Childhood BF and I never ate grass at recess again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)