Right now, I'm keeping the first book to myself. I broke it down into seven books. Only one year had to be split into two 400+ page books. I LOVE THEM. It's so different, seeing them in print than it is in here. Very strange, but oddly interesting. The first year, I only had an account for a few months; so my first book is a tiny, 110 page job, titled "I love you...now give me back my clothes" (don't ask...it's a subject, and so...). :> Love and murder. Two best-selling words to go on a book jacket. Ask the pros.
Anyway, I'm ordering my copy to proof, which will cost DUM DUM DUMMMMMMMMM...$5. That's it. That's ALL it takes to pay for your own paperback book. Can't beat it with a stick and two baseball bats, iffn you ask me. Through the years -- I noticed while traveling through quickly with an eye open for anything horrifying -- I've written some fairly decent stuff. Not consistently, not always, but on occasion. Some of it is witty, even. Reading through it is exactly like living my life is, only in word. I do ramble and carry on as if the conversation is going on in my head. I've pretty much done this since the beginning of the journal. I think I was more clever before 2003. But I'll be SO happy to cradle a hard cover in my hands, and read through some of the most bizarre years of my life.
It's just like that. I highly encourage everyone to do it. Download that thang, print it off, and have a copy. Save it for your kids.
Okay, I'm delirious and shouldn't be allowed NEAR a computer. Z just called and he made me an easel (awwwwwww!). That was really sweet of him, to take that type initiative. Didn't just buy a cheap one...made it with his own hands and wood. Really sweet gesture. I'll be asleep when he drops it off.
I'm nappin'. The girls are segregating and that's just fine. I need some serious ZzZzzzz (me) time.