It’s a lazy Saturday morning, and I’m sipping coffee and surfing my favorite blogs, with Dirty Jobs in the background. The catchy little jingle for the Amazon Kindle caught my attention, and I found myself singing along.  I looked up to see the backs of a relaxed couple in beach chairs, happily holding their Amazon Kindles. The fancy little gadget boasts “books in 60 seconds” and the peppy little commercial states that it can be easily read, even in direct sunlight.

I wrote recently about technology and the way I sometimes struggle with it. I love my iPod, especially the way you can store thousands of songs on it. I wish I had had it when I was on tour with the African Children’s Choir, rather than having to tote around 20 or more CDs. I might have saved my back a bit. In the same way, the Kindle seems cool in that rather than having books taking up space, you can store them on a nifty little electronic device. But there are things about MP3s and electronic books that just don’t possess the same allure as a CD or a real book. Before iTunes and MP3s online, we were forced to go to a music store and purchase an actual CD. (How did we live???) I would carefully choose my CD, carry it home, and anxiously rip the cellophane off. I’d put the CD in and listen to it on repeat for days, all while looking through the insert, reading lyrics and admiring the funky band pictures and album covers. Now instead of admiring the band’s creative work in the insert, I google for lyrics.

In the same way, if I ever get a Kindle, I think I will miss going to the bookstore. There is something magical about bookstores, especially used bookstores. Browsing through book spines and choosing that perfect book… relaxing on the couch while lazily flipping pages… it’s a wonderful experience. There is something wonderful about a physical book and the sound of rustling paper. But the idea of not having piles of books lying around taking up space is quite appealing. I have many books that I’ve read and may never read again, but for some reason, feel compelled to keep them on my bookshelf. Or in a box in my garage.

On one of my new favorite blogs, the writer expressed his love of fountain pens and how magical the experience is of using that fountain pen on physical paper. Although I’m not as particular in my writing utensils (after reading his blog, I kind of want to be), I can relate to  loving the act of actual writing by hand. As cool as blogging is, and as much as I enjoy the outlet, I still often prefer my spiral bound journal filled with my mindless ramblings. The act of putting pen to paper has been therapy for years. The clicking of the keyboard isn’t quite the same.

My mother in law asked me the other day if I had tried digital scrapbooking. She was considering trying it, as she was growing tired of spreading paper all over and making such a large mess of things. I told her I hadn’t tried it yet, as I preferred the physical act of cutting paper and pasting it down. Sure, it’s a mess, but sometimes that’s half the fun.

I will continue to embrace technology, but I hope to hold onto some of the simpler pleasures in life as well.