Hi all,

I've turned into an awful journaler. There just isn't a lot to say. Well, there are things to say, but not a lot of terribly interesting things to write about. Or there are some, but it's some personal stuff for other people, so it probably shouldn't end up here.

For example, remember my friend who tried to commit suicide a couple of months ago? He's considering again. He's got more help this time. But how much of that can I write?

I could chronicle the growth of my stomach, but it's only slight (I have developed a slight pooch), but at this point how interesting is it when you only have a pooch, morning sickness and are tired?

I could discuss my marriage, but I am definitely not up to discussing that right now.

I did, however, just sign up for NaNoWriMo again this year. I have no idea what I'm going to write about, but I had no real clue last year at this time, either. Hopefully, this time, this year, this novel will be better. The other one is still sitting around, waiting to be resurrected and made into a more perfect being.

I've also started reading the 100 novels on Radcliffe's 100 Greatest Books of the 20th century. I think I'm on Chapter 4 of The Great Gatsby. I've already read a lot of the books on the list, ran into some others, and never heard of some, so it will be a good experience. At the same time, I'm tempted to spend some time a bit further back and read a bunch of Dickens, Austin, the Brontes, Hawthorne, Poe, Alcott, Doyle... What kind of winter is this? Is it a "close to my lifetime" winter or a "not even possibly in my lifetime"?

Which is better to read while pregnant? It could be the latter. I'm not sure how my hormones and pregnancy will fare with Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath, for example. It's a wonderful book. A beautiful book. Everyone should read it. But not necessarily while pregnant.

What do you all think?