Grieving About Books
Today is quiet. The southern Rockies that I see out my windows are dusted with snow and the sun peeks in and out between broken clouds. The wind is picking up and the temperature is below 50—it’s a pretty typical winter day. Later as it cools, I think I’ll make a fire.
My goals for today are modest, sort through the recycles, do a few loads of laundry, and write a blog. I’m trying not to get a cold so I’m drinking lots of juice and I am spending most of the afternoon reading, one dog sleeping below me and the other curled up on the couch. It’s a bit chilly so I cover myself with an afghan that my mother knitted years ago. Pretty cozy.


When we write books we review hundreds of research studies—combing the literature for evidence based treatments as well as interesting new possibilities. We spent many months preparing and writing our last book on child psychology and development. We took a huge amount of material and clinical experience and organized what we (and many reviewers) believe is an original way to conceptualize childhood and child psychopathology.
We just returned from a much enjoyed vacation to the British Isles. When I can remember, I like to write down ideas for blogs or other projects and carry them around. Many times I forget to use them or look them over later and can’t figure out why the particular phrase sounded so interesting. Well, we were taking a tour of some prehistoric ruins and for some reason the tour guide (I forget why) said that something was “as useless as a chocolate tea pot.”
Well, we finished our next book:


