The 11 year old is making up poetry as she washes dishes. “They went to sea in sieve, sieve, sieve. And so you see, my dear, they did not live, live, live.” Hooray for the poetry. I apologize now if my child becomes a writer. Who needs another Anne Rice?
I have not got on board with the whole Twilight thing. Partly because the books hit while I was still mourning Harry Potter and I didn’t feel like rushing into a new relationship. Partly, now, out of rebellion. I want to be the only woman on earth who is not in love with a vampire. Or a werewolf.
The baby’s first word was “book”. He also barks, but I don’t think he’s a werewolf. He’s not hairy enough. He brings us books, sits on our lap and points. He also says, “Bob,” whenever he sees anything furry. Thanks, Sandra Boynton.
I’ve been reading very depressing books lately and I need to stop. Maybe I should switch over to Twilight. I’ve read Little Bee, which begins horrifically and then declines. It’s well written, which makes it even harder to sleep at night. I’m reading Tales of a Female Nomad, which isn’t horrible, but it also doesn’t make me happy. It’s a true story of a woman who, funny enough, becomes a nomad. I actually hate the woman herself. She leaves her newly-adult children and her aging parents to travel among indigenous people. Maybe I’m just jealous. I did re-read Princess Bride, but it wasn’t as funny as I remember it being. Maybe it’s just been too long since I’ve seen Cary Elwes.
What I need is a smart, well-written, not-trying-to-teach-you-anything book. Any ideas?