The better part of a year ago, my friend Jamie and I embarked on a pilgrimage of sorts. Our plan was (is?) to read 101 books in 1001 days, a tour de force of the bookish variety, if you will. But you get busy. You just do.

Over the last several months, my free time (away from the day job) has been full of research-dependent writing assignments and editing work–not to mention the hours spent trying to be a good husband and friend. All of this while keeping up a relative amount of good hygiene takes up much of the energy I’d otherwise have for Dante, or the Bronte sisters, or…you get the idea.

Coming up, I’ll have the most intensive writing assignments I’ve had in a while as far as research goes. I’ll be writing essays on various historical topics for HowStuffWorks, the company I like to consider my real job “alma mater.” First up: Communism. On top of that, I’m in the process of wrapping up one book editing job, and beginning another.

And none of this says anything about my inclination to follow curiosity through a succession of books completely unrelated to my 101 list. It would seem that I’m incapable of keeping such lists. So, it might turn out that I’ll have read 101 books by the time 1001 days come around, and I think it will. But at this point, I’m certain it will be a very different group of titles. Though, I do plan to read as many books on the initial list as possible.

I figure, hey, I made the list. I can change it if I want to. Right?

Sometimes you find inspiration, and sometimes it finds you. Voila.

This morning I came in to find my new nameplate hanging above my desk.

Priceless. You can see how important I am around here.