This afternoon I went to the library and came home with a huge armful of books, more than I'm actually going to read, I'm sure. I haven't been reading as much lately, probably because the weather's so much nicer and I haven't been stuck inside. No, not because I've been wasting all my time on YouTube. Of course not. There was a booksale at the library, and I found a VHS episode of the old '90s ('80s?) Baby-Sitters Club TV show. I'm going to show it to Sara as soon as she wakes up. I also got a collection of 20th-century ghost stories (I'd checked it out once before but never finished reading it) and one of 17th-century poetry. One of my new year resolutions for 2009 was to read one poem a day, but I haven't been living up to it. Older poems are some of my favorite ones to read aloud. Grammar, style, and everything else was so different back then, it's almost like reading in a different language.
From the library I went straight to another fantastic visit to a cemetery. It reminded me of this day last spring when I spent hours wandering around the Pere Lachaise in Paris. This cemetery wasn't as big or as famous, but the weather was just as nice, and while the Pere Lachaise was crowded, today I didn't see another single person in the cemetery the entire time I was there. I wandered around, took pictures, and read from my poetry book. Folks in the 17th-century seriously loved to write about death. I could open the book to a random page and almost always find something about dying.
A few more cemetery pictures to come. I'd post them now, but I should be going to bed. Check back to this post.