I plunged into a few new goals. As mentioned in previous posts, one of these goals was to read 1 book per month. Sadly, I was let-down by my first pick.
I threw the book away after page 55. Wanderlust, a memoir by Elisabeth Eaves, was simultaneously joyful & disappointing. My interest in travel, and fondness of memoirs, does not include thoughtless conquests with international hotties. Have you ever read a book and thought “Was it really necessary to include this, say that, or use those words?”
While the excitement of travel, exploration and impulsive spontaneity made for an intriguing read, I felt gross after reading of her random escapades. We are all in different seasons, which I can acknowledge and respectfully avoid if necessary. Eaves’ fowl references to a subject I consider beautiful and loving, left me feeling dirty. I have done my best to retire from swearing, finding profanity unnecessary (Like I said, I do my best). In Wanderlust, Eaves uses the mother of all cuss words with emotional disdain. As my mother-in-law says, “Eat the hay, spit out the sticks!” Well, I ate the hay for 55 pages and was sick of spitting sticks. I threw the book away in order to avoid tainting the purity of my wanderlust.