I know this probably is not news to anyone, but it just hit me: DECEMBER IS CRAZY!

We’ve been to three holiday events for Andy’s work, we did our early Cincinnati Christmas last night, and we’re going to two weddings this weekend. My hand hurts from writing out driving directions: home to wedding #1 to reception #1 to home to aunt’s house to wedding #2 to reception #2 to aunt’s house to airport (me) and Andy’s house (him). Ah!

And let’s not talk about holiday gifts, or cards, or anything, because I totally don’t have any for anyone. It’s got nothing to do with the economy, although I suppose that could be a convenient excuse…

Anyway, I’m going to go hide under the bed until February (because January will be crazy too) but my plan is to have a new episode of Twenty-Somewhere on Monday as usual. In the meantime, the NYTimes reviewed Malcolm Gladwell’s new book, Outliers, and I’m intrigued. I loved Blink.

Gladwell’s latest book, “Outliers,” is a passionate argument for taking the second version of the story more seriously than we now do. “It is not the brightest who succeed,” Gladwell writes. “Nor is success simply the sum of the decisions and efforts we make on our own behalf. It is, rather, a gift. Outliers are those who have been given opportunities — and who have had the strength and presence of mind to seize them.”

I have been told as much before, and I agree: talent alone won’t do anything for you. You’ve gotta work hard and take advantage of opportunities too.

Diane tells me she’s almost done reading Outliers and we can see a recap/review of sorts on iluv2read soon. (No pressure, Diane.)

The other day I happened upon a New York Times op-ed in which writer Laura Miller talks about culling books. When I read it, I simultaneously thought: “How wonderful!” and “How horrible!”

Now you have to understand, I am a compulsive cleaner. I constantly pick up after Andy, who is too concerned with efficiency to bother with things like aiming at the laundry basket or scraping food off plates before putting them in the dishwasher. But me? I fantasize about throwing things away. I revel in dropping off bags at Goodwill, or cleaning out a box by dumping its contents in a trash can and then folding IT up and dropping it in the recycle bin. I burn with desire to get rid of about 75% of the things in my parents’ home — half of which is junk I accumulated growing up, the other half is stuff my dad can’t bear to let go of even though he hasn’t even SEEN it in two years or more. You know, “just in case” he needs it someday.

(He was born towards the end of the Great Depression, so maybe he has some excuse…)

Anyway, being “streamlined” and tidy is a compulsion for me. But it does NOT apply to books.

I love books. The feel, the smell, the pages that turn, and have words on them, and form stories! How could I throw them away? We even have doubles of a few titles on our bookshelf, since we took a couple of the same courses (with the awesome Scott Sandage).

So, since I am too weak-willed and nostalgic when it comes to literature, I must resign myself to the fact that I will probably always have some form of “junk” in my house. I can weed out old clothes that don’t fit, recycle papers I don’t need, even delete music files that I never listen to, but books… books are just too hard to part with.

What do your shelves and drawers look like? Are you a pack rat, or a purger? How do you decide what to keep and what to toss?

A heartbreaking find:

A recent report by the National Endowment for the Arts found that 53 percent of Americans surveyed hadn’t read a book in the previous year.

… I’m sorry, WHAT?

For someone like me, that’s like saying, “Hmm, I think I saw the sun twelve months ago.” I mean, I may not have as much time to read as I used to, but I don’t think a single year of my life has gone by without my reading at least 1 book.

Seriously, people?

[sigh]

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