Well, we have secured an apartment in Oakland, California (look here if you want more information about our impending move) and the process of packing all of our earthly possessions into cardboard boxes has begun. I am, in fact, surrounded by boxes as I type, mostly empty, some filled with books. I figure I have packed about nine boxes of books thus far. By the time I am done packing our library that number will no doubt be tripled, at least. Books are an important part of our life ("our", for those of you who do not know, is me and my soul mate Sarah). That is made evident to our friends when they help us move - box after box after box of literature.

I will, if left to my own devices, spend money on books and music before clothes or other "practical" essentials. Each time I purchase a new book I realize that I probably shouldn't. I have enough unread material already to keep me reading for many years. But I am typically unable to resist any volume that sparks my imagination. There are just so many places my mind wants to go, so many things to know. I should be reading right now, in fact. I'm not getting any younger and the "to be read" pile just keeps growing.