No, not my Julia, but Julia Child. Last weekend I watched Julie and Julia, which was cute, despite the unnecessary occasional swear word and then proceeded to hit the library for every Julia Child book on the shelves.
I read the novel Julie and Julia, which I didn't care for since every chapter showed that Julie was suffering from a serious case of BDS (Bush Derangement Syndrome) in the 2001-2004 time frame she was writing as well as exhibiting an unhealthy fixation on foul language, ingesting large quantities of booze, and her friend's sex lives. But now I am simultaneously reading Julia Child's biography and a collection of letters between Child and her penpal Avis Devoto, which are both fascinating. I also checked out THE book: Mastering the Art of French Cooking, and am finding that all this reading about complicated cooking techniques is prompting me to bake a homemade yellow cake requiring buttermilk, heavy cream, and orange zest with white chocolate and cream cheese frosting for Mary's 12th birthday tomorrow. Schoolwork is cancelled in honor of her big day and we will be making valentines as well as dirtying every bowl in the house to make her birthday dinner and dessert.