I'm Too Tired to Name This

My neck is feeling better. No unusual swelling, discoleration, bruising or noticable nerve damage. I'm still stiff when I make sharp turns with my neck, especially to the right, but I hardly notice it's there, except when I do.

I finished The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver. It's quite an exquisite and historical accounting of a white, Southern American, Baptist Missionary family losing itself in the enchanting web of Africa. Coincidentally, it's also the longest book I've devoured since I read Alex Haley's Roots in high school. Turns out I really love African history; that is, I'm in-love with the riveting, brutal truths of the land and its peoples. But then, I've always been a sucker for indigenous (read: "uncivilised")* cultures.

I've started on The Celestine Prophecy by James Redfield. I'm sure you're familiar with it, I'm not going to tell the story, mostly because I've only gotten through the first chapter. I will say this, though: it's filled with cheese. Bailey would LOVE it!

Oh, yeah. And I got a job with the Partnership. I'll go in this week to sign the papers so's I can start on the 25th of this month. Relief.

*I'm mocking, of course.