Stranger than non-fiction

In the past four or five months I’ve checked out about 30 fiction novels to read, and have only successfully finished about two of them. Strangely enough I’ve read completely about 10 or more non-fiction books. Most of these were related to religious topics or were funny memoirs. And one juicy morsel about polygamists. The two fiction novels I successfully completed were both Christian books about 1) A Quaker pastor and 2) An Amish community. This is very, very strange for me. My whole life I have been feverishly and rabidly devoted to science fiction or horror. Now I hardly even begin before I set the book down indefinitely.


Here is another curiosity. Last Friday I went to a party with a bonfire in the back yard. All of the wood for said bonfire was chopped and split by my dear beared, ax-wielding husband. I remember declaring enthusiastically at the party, in a confession brought on by several dixie cups of homebrew Belgian White (also created by Mr. Bearded), that there is just something special about seeing a modern American man chopping wood. The only way it could get better would be if he was wearing black pants, a white shirt and suspenders. And shave off the mustache portion of his beard. And wear a straw hat. I think I’ve truly gone under. Fascination with the Amish becomes a sick (but strangely alluring) obession.

These strange interests have sprung from my very new habit of studying the Bible. I initially started studying the book just to get a better understanding of the Christian religion, to help alleviate the tension from years of bad feelings about Christianity, and to understand the example of Jesus who, I believed, had many wise things to say. At some point in the journey, somehow it ended up convincing me! I feel like a veritable Paul. Strange, strange. My new reading interests seem to stem from a desire to read positive words which enhance my (sometimes hard-won) feelings of optimism. No violence or sex are necessary at this moment.

One more strange gem: I started tracking my fertility cycle and have learned that I get unbearably weepy during ovulation. Who’da thunk it?