I don't have much to report. Knitting is chugging along and isn't very photographable. The quilt is, too. I am sewing on the binding which isn't as tedious as I imagined it would be. At my current rate I should be done this evening. The garden is going in very slowly. I haven't been able to get excited about it, the seeds I started in March came up but didn't go any further (they barely have secondary leaves) which has been a bummer.
So. Books instead. I am actively reading two (and have two on inactive status, which I think means I will get back to them. Or not).
The first is Honky, by Dalton Conley. Conley is a sociologist who studies race, class and inequality (and is kind of famous in my little professional world). Honky is his memoir of growing up white in a prominently black and Hispanic New York housing project. One the one hand, he brings a very personal voice to what can sometimes be a very academic field of study, and on the other hand a fairly dispassionate view of the forces that propel some people out of poverty while trapping others.
The other book is actually a series. The Sookie Stackhouse books. They are the literary equivalent of speed (not that I'd know): terrible, not that great of a high, and very addictive. Perfect for summer and I fully expect my brain to be rotted out by the end of them. There are nine, god help me, I've committed to the first seven. The HBO show is just as bad and just as addictive (with the added pleasure of Anna Paquin's awful accent).