Of wolves and women

In keeping with a recent theme of wolfishness in my life (giselle0002 and I have always interacted with a certain amount of canine sensibilities, and meradudd has recently started getting in touch with his wolfish side) I decided to finally start reading my copy of Women who Run with the Wolves, which I've been meaning to read for years, and which I acquired around last January.

So far...well, I'm generally not much for deep and involved psychobabble, so maybe it's just not my thing. The stories are nice and I sort of understand some of the things she's saying about them, but so far my reaction is thus:

Sister, you're thinking too damn hard. You need to go find something good and smelly to roll in, catch yourself a bellyful of mice, and have a nap in the sun.

Which might be what _she's_ saying, too - I've sort of caught hints of that - but she's using so many words I'm having a hard time sussing it all out.

I'm gonna keep at it, for a while, at least. But I don't know if I'll finish it.