I read this while eating lunch today. From the book Bluebeard’s Egg a collection of short stories by Margaret Atwood that I found for a dollar at the library charity book sale.

“While she was combing my next-to-impossible hair, winding it around her long index finger, yanking out the snarls, my mother used to read me stories. Most of them are still in the house somewhere, but one has vanished. It may have been a library book. It was about a little girl who was so poor she had only one potato left for her supper, and while she was roasting it the potato got up and ran away. There was the usual chase, but I can’t remember the ending: a significant lapse.

“That story was one of you favourites,” says my mother. She is probably still under the impression that I identified with the little girl, with her hunger and sense of loss; whereas in reality I identified with the potato.”

On a more art related topic, I have started my attempt to draw my way through the non-fiction section of the local library today with the book Invasive Plants of the Upper Midwest An Illustrated Guide to Their Identification and Control by Elizabeth J. Czarapata. It is a book of not very good photographs of some of my favorite wild plants that are apparently noxious. Who knew?

I figure at a rate of one book a week, I have a goal that will last me the rest of my life. Next week perhaps I will visit the wild animal section.