Tonight my book club is
meeting to discuss The Flamethrowers. I haven’t read the book but want to see
everyone. Our discussion time of the
books we read varies widely, so not reading the book is never a reason not
to go.
We always set the date for
the next book club at the end of the prior one, and then the person hosting
sends out a reminder. When Ruth sends
out her reminder, it turns out that many can’t come:
- Laurie is on a 7-city/9-day tour with her sons’ band.
- Lynn has her daughter’s college graduation coming up.
- Melanie has to work.
- Betsy is booked.
- Monique is in Nashville.
- Kathleen has a class.
That leaves only four of
us: Ruth who is hosting, Pennelope,
Andrea and myself. I really like all the
people in the group, but it is nice to sometimes get together with a subset of
the group. Usually the talk becomes more
intimate and focused, with one conversation going at a time.
That’s how it is
tonight. We talk about jobs and kids. Work and theater. Art and hair. It seems we talk about everything but
the book, which tonight is just fine with me.
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