From Cover to Cover

I was looking at a gift today, one that is lying in an open spot in my house, a place where it will be noticed not only by me, but whoever enters my house. It was given to me by someone special who knows just what to get someone. There is no other substitute for gifts given by this person. There was no pretty wrapping or billowy ribbon on this gift, and honestly, it didn't need any. It is a book, plain and simple, but with subject matter close to my heart.

I picked up this book and opened it up. In it, there are images from other books I have on the same subject. No matter, for it is interesting to get other angles to contradict or confirm facts. This book is a collection of artwork. Not just any artwork, but masterpieces created by the most intriguing, eclectic, and mysterious surrealist to date. At least in my opinion he is. Salvador Dalí, born in 1904, died in 1989. I didn't even know who he was until after his death. Isn't that the bane of all artists? No one knows who you are until after you are dead. Then you become a god. Lot of good it does you then, huh?

I have several Dalí prints hanging in my house and already several Dalí books shelved on non-existent bookshelves. What I need is a coffee table. First impressions mean a lot. If I walk into your living room and there are conversational books laying on a coffee table, you've got my attention. If I had a coffee table, there is where my Dalí books would reside.

I like getting books as gifts. This same person has given me other books as well. I like them all, but two of these other books are special. The first one is a recipe book for outback gourmet cooking. Never thought about having White Bean and Roasted Garlic Salad with Grilled Zucchini, Mustard and Rosemary Lamb Chops, or Baked Chocolate Bananas in the woods, let alone try to imitate it at home...or afford to go to some "Chez Something in French" bistro. Why would I want to replicate that food while already being inconvenienced by not having home appliances and cookware handy? For a change of pace, that's why. Isn't what my life from now on is supposed to be about anyway? Change? I look forward to making some deep woods culinary creations.

The other book is a camping journal. I wish I had gotten one of these things years ago. It has entry spaces to fill out to remember everything about your camping experience. I probably would have had to buy another one at this point, though. The first entries were written two weekends ago. All the normal stuff was filled out...where we were, contact information, who was there, memorable events and favorite parts. But what I liked about it was on the back of each page is a section for comments. The things written there, I'm sure, are not what the writers of the book meant to be there, but it is what we did, and it is good. All weekend long, we wrote down things that hit us as funny, weird, abstract, or just downright insightful as quotes from the person who said it.

"Because bananas just don't give a damn."-Anthony
"I had a baby owl land in my lap."-Bo
"I have an ass, push on it!"-Crystal
"You gotta butterfly the bologna."-Kevin
"I'm mad at you."-Dawnia
"I know."-Me

Words of wisdom, words of lunacy...however you want to look at it. You just had to be there. I hope to fill this book with years and years of memories. I think there are lots to be made yet.

I do like books. They have a front and back cover to protect the pages inside. The pages are filled with words that make pictures, or filled with pictures beyond words. There is a beginning and an end, some about the same subject throughout, some with chapters that open and close separate stories as you read. Life can be like a book. You open up the protective cover and start reading. As you go through, reading in real-time the story that is being written, you create the words and pictures that are placed in the book. You have a beginning at birth, and an end at your death. Sometimes, life has the same familiar story to the end, sometimes you open and close each chapter, opening the next one as you finish the one before. When you are done, you close the book, put it away till you want to read it again.

I can't wait to read what's next. New characters are introduced, the plot thickens, and I am on the edge of my seat, just like any good book should inspire me to be. I have not finished writing this book. There has been a lot written to date, but much more is missing. What happens next? I really don't know. The next chapter is unwritten as of yet. But just like the rest of the book, it ought to be interesting.

I'm turning the page...