Reading: Keri Hulme, The Bone People; Doris Lessing, The Golden Notebook; Susan Cooper, Silver on the Tree. Moving: walked 2.7 miles and some weights Watching: Magpies' sloppy nests Listening: Miles from Our Home, woodpeckers Morse-coding to one another. |
16 April 2001: BarefootA balding Puddleglum with acne. I am now hoping for an opportunity to use my new favorite insult. --- Waiting for something to process in BBEdit, I started rereading Silver on the Tree. I completely don't remember this one. But I should be reading The Golden Notebook, although if I'm going to make any headway in my lists I had better try the shorter books. I like The Golden Notebook, but I'm struggling with it. I'll probably read Susan Cooper tonight. I finished The Bone People. It was fantastic. I'm processing it. Commentators at Amazon either love or hate it, five stars or one, with a few high-ranking reviewers giving it three stars. I can appreciate the criticisms, but I still loved it. It didn't remind me of anything else, and therefore, unlike as with The Haunting of Hill House, I have nothing to say about it. --- Tonight we have been playing with our new Total Gym. Which reminds me of something that happened last summer
at my mother's house. She and her husband and RDC and I were getting into
our two cars to go visit Granny. This was already a problem: she said,
"I thought we'd all go together?!" but the both of them drive
at a crawl, timidly, and thus dangerously, and make my teeth itch. Plus
she had just showered in Jean Naté, which aggravates RDC's asthma.
Plus we would have had to return to Old Lyme with them afterward, which
I'm sure was part of her cunning plan Just to Have More Time with You,
Dear, and never mind if it makes you late for your next engagement, dear.
No, we'd drive ourselves, thanks. I had opened the driver's side door
in the same state in which I'd been in her house, which is the same state
I spend my time in nonpublic buildings: barefoot. |
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