"The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary; men alone are quite capable of every wickedness."*

I went on a Stewart O'Nan spree when I first discovered him. I started with Prayer for the Dying, which appealed to me at first due to its plague theme. (Do you know anyone else who regularly reads the Weekly Morbidity and Mortality Report?) But what a ride! Nail-bitingly suspenseful, inevitability worthy of Shakespeare's tragedies, haunting, eerie cover art - and it made me cry too. I don’t think a book has affected me so much since, except for Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. (And since both books deal with similar themes – mainly, the often futile battle against inexorable evil - that doesn’t surprise me.)

Then I tackled Snow Angels. Very good as well, a little less polished, a bit more teen-angst-y due to the age of one of the main characters, a completely different book, but the same spare, elegant writing and gripping storytelling.

Wish You Were Here was gentler and not as focused, but more involved with characterization.

I was wowed by my find, but for some reason didn’t follow through by ordering from Amazon, or the library, the rest of his novels. However, I was recently thrilled to stumble over his newest, Songs for the Missing, at a dashing visit to my library last week. It boasts all of O’Nan’s usual detailed but natural storytelling, compelling characters whom we get to know almost uncomfortably well throughout the book’s course, and an occasional plot twist that you never see coming but that makes all the sense in the world. O’Nan doesn’t write thrillers, or police procedurals, but I often perceive those elements in his novels.

Of course, due to total lack of sleep and consequent brainlessness, I have set aside Songs, just for the moment, in favor of rereading Book 4 of the Twilight series, Breaking Dawn. It just goes better with the Cherry Cordial Hershey Kisses I have been snarfing down in a spate of what I like to refer to as “survival eating.” When my brain functions return to their regularly scheduled efficiency, I will pick up Songs again. And now I have to go, because I am This. Close. to experiencing brain bleed from the now-healthy, perkier-than-ever, and endlessly nattering three-year-old.

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*Joseph Conrad (Did you know Conrad wrote his brilliant novels in his THIRD language? I consistently find this fact utterly amazing.)

“A little more persistence, a little more effort, and what seemed hopeless failure may turn to glorious success.”*

Everything was going swimmingly until I realized that there was a breach in the deep end. The water must have seeped through the plastic seam - next year I will spring for a solid piece of plastic. This year I had to make do with 2 long rolls of 10' width each. But I let the water freeze solid overnight and will resume - one hopes successfully - filling today. It certainly is cold enough - it's so cold my guys are off school.

H wanted to know how deep is deep enough? (I believe he was envisioning our water bill...) I think 6 inches will do it. A line level could have solved the depth question - for example, if our yard were only an inch off end to end, I could have built the thing with 2x4s. I used the widest boards available at Home Depot (2x10) since I didn't level more accurately. But once the first layer is frozen, it will (one hopes) seal the end, as it were, and therefore the water will find its level and fill the whole shebang.

Unfortunately, the outdoor spigot is frozen solid - how do I know? Because the hose snapped in two while I was trying to take it off and it was full of ice. Hose-shaped ice. Also unfortunately, that was my longest hose so there's some jury-rigged hosiery going on outside as well. And I had to figure out a way to run the hose up from the laundry room in the basement without leaving the doors wide open to the subzero temps...'cause what would suck more than the rink not working? My laundry hoses freezing.

I'll keep you posted as to when you can come over to skate and slurp hot cocoa liberally laced with kahlua. Yeah, kahlua. Did I mention we are staring down the face of a four-day weekend two weekends in a row now? Yeah. Top up my kahlua, please.

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*Elbert Hubbard (NO, NOT Elron. Sheesh.)

"In skating over thin ice our safety is in our speed."*

I was VERY busy this morning.
And as soon as H comes home with a new hose and a pressure coupler for the basement faucet, we can fill this baby and then...
let the skating games begin!


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*Ralph Waldo Emerson

"For argument's sake, let's say I'm not smart."

If I were a vampire…

I’d bite you in the morning, I’d bite you in the evening…all over this land…wait, no, that’s just me not able to help myself, sorry.

Let’s try again.

If I were a vampire, I would, as Edward Cullen points out somewhere in the third book, have an awful lot of free time. They don’t need to sleep or eat or go to the bathroom. (I wonder if they need to shower?) I would have an eternity, without any distractions, right?

I would have time to read every book I have ever wanted to read – hell, I could finally finish Anna Karenina. For that matter, I would have time to learn Spanish and Russian, so I could read War and Peace and Love in the Time of Cholera not in translation.

I would have tons of time to write – but oddly, probably not as much to write about, or the ability to be as truthful or introspective as I might now.

I would have all sorts of time to knit and quilt. I’d be an expert. (Suse, is that your secret? Are all your perfect and charming knitted adorables a result of you being one of the Undead?)

I could listen to a lot of music. I have proof that vampires like Radiohead, and in fact, if I were to discover that Thom Yorke was a vampire, it wouldn’t shock me hardly at all. I would probably never ever have to listen to “Philadelphia Chickens” or a Wiggles album ever again; there is a noticeable dearth of vampire toddlers.

I would have time to bake all I wanted, but without the inclination to sample the goods, what would be the point? I suppose I could “swallow manfully” (as Edward does his wedding cake, and, boy, is that a phrase you ever expected to hear in relation to Edward Cullen?), but again, what would be the point? This is a problem for me. I know Bella doesn’t want to give up human sex, but I? Wouldn’t want to give up human brownies.

BUT, theoretically, I could eat all the baked goods I wanted (if I ate) - vampires are by necessity physically lovely, and have you ever heard of a fat vampire? I would have all kinds of time to run and swim and skate and bike, like I try to do now to stay fit and – no, not beautiful, maybe marginally-less-repulsive, but I am sure I could not uphold an unnecessary exercise regime. I considered running marathons as a vampire, and socking away my winnings (doesn’t one of the vampires consider that in one of the books?), but there’s the sparkly skin-in-sun problem there…and eventually the other marathoners would catch on, don’t you think? Basically, what I am saying is that my being a vampire would probably not change my fundamental laziness.

Two things I could not do if I were a vampire:

I could not have babies. Any more babies. I am okay with that. See next point.

I could not hang out with my husband and/or kiddoes, lest their luscious scent tempt me to kill them. (Their luscious scent of what? Baby poop?) And dudes, seriously, it’s hardly their delicious smell that makes me want to kill them – one more snow day, yes; yummy scent, not so much.

One more random vampire thought – I chew my cuticles, often till they bleed. Yes, I realize, bad habit, blah blah blah. What would Edward have done if Bella were a dedicated nail-biter? A ripped hangnail could have sent him right over the edge. Inquiring minds want to know…

What? You didn’t think I was engineering world peace or considering the next Secretary General of the UN while I was plodding out my three miles around the reservoir on weekend mornings, did you?

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*Bella Swan, "Twilight"