I have been doing a lot of reading lately. All kinds of books, too. I’ve currently got about 8 or 9 things on the go (what can I say? I’m a multi-tasker!):

  • 7 Pillars of Health
  • The Big Cook
  • Compost! Growing Gardens from Your Garbage
  • Good Housekeeping: The Complete Household Handbook
  • The Idiot’s Guide to Organizing Your Life
  • Jesus in Blue Jeans
  • Made To Stick
  • Organizing Your Day
  • The Path
  • Shameless Shortcuts
  • Weeds!
  • Wolfsbane and Mistletoe
  • Your Global Warming Survival Handbook
OK, so that’s actually 13.

Plus I just finished Animal Farm. (Ha! So I do actually accomplish things, not just start things—take that unbelievers!) I’ve never read it before. Really. It was actually somewhat overwhelming. I made my hubby read it too just so I would have someone to discuss it with. I was frustrated with Napoleon (really, who wouldn’t be?!). I kept thinking about poor old Boxer and his work, work, work mentality. I wondered how Mollie was making out in her new home and what she was wearing in her hair—and if the book took place today, what would she be wearing instead of ribbons? A crooked ball cap? A trendy headband? My heart still hurts for the poor scapegoat (scapepig?) Snowball. Suddenly all of his past transgressions are overlooked when you see him in the shadow of Napoleon.

But most of all, I cannot stop thinking about Benjamin. Wise, pessimistic, grumpy Benjamin who sees the corruption of the farm unfold and does nothing to prevent it or warn others of it. It made me wonder how many people are really like that. He’s going to die and remain miserable. For what? He could have done something, he could have spoken up—saved them all.

Benjamin finally opens his mouth when Boxer, his only friend, is being taken away to a special hospital in a van labeled “glue factory.” And even then, it was all for naught. All too late.

Of course, I also wonder if Benjamin had spoken up earlier, would it have mattered? Or would PR professional Squealer have spun stories to shame Benjamin before having him executed by the pack of vicious puppies. I love puppies, but I’m suddenly not looking so forward to taking care of my sister’s dogs for a week now. Mind you, Boston and Brooklyn, my black lab nieces, don’t have a sadistic pig as a guide to do evil and commit murder, and then another pig that specializes in public relations to clean up their mess.

Nope, I’m the one who will be cleaning up the mess. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to use the pooper-scooper.



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