Back in 2014, I began a process to sporadically re-visit blog posts from the same date three years earlier to see what might have shifted for me over the ensuing years. And I requested you join me by re-visiting any writing you may have done on that same date, in a journal or otherwise. Although not many of you have commented that you've tagged along with me on my retrospective pursuit, some days, like today, give me a lot to work with. On every January 8 from 2012 - eight years back - to 2017, I was reflecting on something and published, even when it might have been wise to resist doing so. How about you? What was on your mind on January 8 anywhere from 2017 to as far back as you have any written record? Anything catching you up short?
So, given a weird preoccupation I've recently developed for organizing the library of leftovers at the Meals on Wheels location where I volunteer every Monday, re-reading my post above from January 8, 2016 reminds me how some habits die hard. Many of my spare minutes between kitchen tasks at Meals on Wheels these days are spent shuffling books, grouping them by author - in descending order of the number of titles for each - fiction vs. non-fiction, hardcover vs. paperback, ad nauseam. Given this odd quirk, after re-reading that four year old post, I felt strangely obliged to note James Patterson is in the top five in the library of leftovers at Meals on Wheels just as he was in that ski house. The other four authors occupying major shelf space at the ski house? MIA at Meals on Wheels. In their place, in descending order: Clive Cussler, John Grisham, Sidney Sheldon, Dale Brown. A total of nine mass market authors in the top slots of two libraries of leftovers. How many of the nine have you read anything by? Like any self-respecting book snob, I'm saving my answer to that question until at least one of you comes clean. I've already embarrassed myself here quite enough.