On The Jane Pauley Show yesterday, the topic was "tellling your story" and one of the segments was about a prject at The Washington Post where readers submit the story of their life in 100 or fewer words. It inspired me to write mine here.

If we are defined by our stuff then, my life is an open book. Even though I’ve read 47 so far this year (my goal was one per week), I could still read a new one per day until our son graduates from college—in four years. My husband says that’s why ”they” are called stores, but I just know I want to read all these beauties and if I don’t buy them now, I’ll forget. Besides, I’ll get an education as good as my son’s and I’m not leaving home. Quiet please. I hear another one calling my name.