I'm onto you!

For as long as I can remember, I have been stealing books from my parents, mostly from Dad. Since my dad is like me and tends to hoard rather than actually finish books, he has been all-forgiving of this weakness and only takes them back if he has need of them, and even then, he asks, as if the book was actually mine. If anyone has ever admired my small library, they should thank him.

One of my favorites conquests is an old copy of Tolkien's The Father Christmas Letters, which I was reminded of while reading Kelle's Christmas post over at Enjoying the Small Things, a blog I tend to leave open for long periods of time simply because I like her music. I'm too tired to go into the loveliness that is this book. Just trust me. And I don't have time to go on about my theory that it is really Tolkien's best and most important work, and all that stuff about how important it is to instill imagination in your kids, even if it means spending lots of time creating authentic-looking postage stamps from the North Pole and composing stories about the Polar Bears, Northern Lights, Elves, and Goblins that live there. And I have even less time to expound on the whole magical concept of Northness (Narnia and the North!) that Lewis and Tolkien both refer to constantly in their work and their imaginary and spiritual worlds....

This post is about finding the culprit who stole The Father Christmas letters from me! It seems to be missing from my shelf--I thought that if I could haul it all the way out here to the desert, it would be mine for keeps, but some other Tolkien-junkie snuck off with it. I'm attached to that copy; it has a Wheaton College Bookstore sticker from the 1970s on the back, for crying out loud. It's vintage!

And I have my suspects. namely a certain special one who actually dressed up as an elf for the movie release and spent the day of said release watching Tolkien movies outside in the falling snow with her elf ears on. How northy is that?

Open to confessions.