How many men at work do you suppose receive the following email from their wife:
To: H_At_Work [h@veryimportantjob.com]
From: Babelbabe [onlymyrealname@commie.net]
Sent: Friday, May 04, 2007 10:31 AM
Subject: RE: Home Depot
Hey, guess what I just bought?
And respond accurately with “A chainsaw”?
Showing posts with label Secret of Lost Things. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Secret of Lost Things. Show all posts
Friday, May 04, 2007
Thursday, May 03, 2007
"...but I won't dwell upon these trifling family matters” - Lord Byron
The first few years of my marriage, H’s mom gave me for my birthday:
The year after that, she gave me a gift card to Old Navy, which was just fine.
I like Old Navy.
Then she went straight to cash.
I have no problem with cash.
Except my mother used to give H cash for HIS birthday and I know she gave us both the same amount.
I don’t want to sound petty here – but I will – but H’s mom gives me half of what she gives H.
This year, my amount got reduced another ten dollars.
I suppose, really, I should be grateful she gives me anything at all.
It’s nice of her.
She spends a lot of money on my boys, so it's nice of her to remember my birthday at all.
It really is.
Plus, this year she got it exactly right.
This morning, with my birthday cash in hand, I went to Barnes and Noble and bought:
The new Barbara Kingsolver, because I own and read everything she writes.
This one looks really interesting, especially in light of my exciting discovery today that Construction Junction recycles paperboard! No more throwing out cereal boxes and OJ cartons. I am actually not sure what recycling has to do with eating locally, other than being tenuously connected by being-good-to-the-Earth-ness, but either way I was happy about both!
Jen Lancaster has a new book out, and everyone should go buy it. Because, wouldn’t you hate to meet her at Blogher and not have read her new book? Besides, she is just as funny in her book as she is on her blog. Who doesn’t want to laugh out loud while reading on the bus, just like a crazy person?
The saleslady at B&N had a bit of a tough time tracking down Jen’s book (Jen. Me and her. We’re like THIS.) but we finally found it on the New Paperbacks table. Because it would be a New Paperback. And I was all, “Wow, Jen is soooo funny, you should read her first book.” Basically, pathetically, trying to pass myself off as a personal friend to the famous author. (Are two famous authors not enough for me? Do I really need more? If you cut me, do I not bleed? )
But you know, Jen blogs; I blog.
She has ten thousand readers; I have ten readers.
We are blogging sisters, of a sort.
So, now that I have embarrassed myself by acting like I am still a junior in high school, I also bought this, to carry on the high-school theme:
Because, let’s face it, regardless of how erudite The Sandman series really is, it plays perfectly to the angst, the pseudo-depth, the sturm und drang of the average adolescent female.
Besides, in the last volume I read, Dream died, and I can’t quite cope with that well enough just yet to read The Wake, so Endless Nights it is.
My mother-in-law has done herself proud with the birthday gifts this year.
Thanks, Mom!
- a denim shorts-and-shirt set studded with rhinestones, in a size six (I was at the time probably a size ten)
- a greenish flowered rayon dress with embroidered flowers all over the skirt, size large (I was probably a medium – she tried)
- a Mary Higgins Clark mystery
The year after that, she gave me a gift card to Old Navy, which was just fine.
I like Old Navy.
Then she went straight to cash.
I have no problem with cash.
Except my mother used to give H cash for HIS birthday and I know she gave us both the same amount.
I don’t want to sound petty here – but I will – but H’s mom gives me half of what she gives H.
This year, my amount got reduced another ten dollars.
I suppose, really, I should be grateful she gives me anything at all.
It’s nice of her.
She spends a lot of money on my boys, so it's nice of her to remember my birthday at all.
It really is.
Plus, this year she got it exactly right.
This morning, with my birthday cash in hand, I went to Barnes and Noble and bought:
The new Barbara Kingsolver, because I own and read everything she writes.This one looks really interesting, especially in light of my exciting discovery today that Construction Junction recycles paperboard! No more throwing out cereal boxes and OJ cartons. I am actually not sure what recycling has to do with eating locally, other than being tenuously connected by being-good-to-the-Earth-ness, but either way I was happy about both!
Jen Lancaster has a new book out, and everyone should go buy it. Because, wouldn’t you hate to meet her at Blogher and not have read her new book? Besides, she is just as funny in her book as she is on her blog. Who doesn’t want to laugh out loud while reading on the bus, just like a crazy person?The saleslady at B&N had a bit of a tough time tracking down Jen’s book (Jen. Me and her. We’re like THIS.) but we finally found it on the New Paperbacks table. Because it would be a New Paperback. And I was all, “Wow, Jen is soooo funny, you should read her first book.” Basically, pathetically, trying to pass myself off as a personal friend to the famous author. (Are two famous authors not enough for me? Do I really need more? If you cut me, do I not bleed? )
But you know, Jen blogs; I blog.
She has ten thousand readers; I have ten readers.
We are blogging sisters, of a sort.
So, now that I have embarrassed myself by acting like I am still a junior in high school, I also bought this, to carry on the high-school theme:
Because, let’s face it, regardless of how erudite The Sandman series really is, it plays perfectly to the angst, the pseudo-depth, the sturm und drang of the average adolescent female. Besides, in the last volume I read, Dream died, and I can’t quite cope with that well enough just yet to read The Wake, so Endless Nights it is.
My mother-in-law has done herself proud with the birthday gifts this year.
Thanks, Mom!
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
“The end of the animal trade would leave more time to trap or beat to death pop star wannabes.” - Simon Cowell
How did I miss the ENTIRE Morning News 2007 Tournament of Books? It’s way more fun than the Man Booker prize, and besides, I have a raging girl-crush on Jessa Crispin, the editor of Bookslut and one of this year’s TOB judges.
OK, admittedly, I hadn’t read even half of the contending books, but this particular verrrrrry quiet night at the ref desk, this fact wound up making the recaps of the contest that much more engrossing.
So.
Kate Atkinson’s One Good Turn (her weakest novel, IMHO) made a decent showing, handily defeating Arthur and George, The Lay of the Land, and Against the Day before succumbing to Gary Shteyngart’s Absurdistan (which, I am so confused, I thought was knocked out in the first round by Half of a Yellow Sun; oh, wait, Zombie round, in which TOB readers get to vote a book into the competition).
The round one match-up of The Echo Maker versus The Emperor’s Children, two of the world’s most boring books, would have been enough for me to fling myself off a handy parapet. I felt for poor Marcus Sakey, whoever he is other than the judge of this pairing. Emperor's Children won. Again in my oh-so-humble opinion, Echo Maker should have made it to the second round instead, as it was at least nicely written, if dull. EC was abysmally, mind-numbingly dull AND badly written (I disagree with Jessa on this one, although her comments about the stereotypical characters are spot-on).
Monica Ali’s second novel Alentejo Blue was in contention; her first novel Brick Lane made me yawn, so I never started the second.
I don’t care for Thomas Pynchon, and Richard Ford puts me to sleep with his middle-aged male “Everyman” protagonist busy having a midlife crisis in suburban New Jersey.
WARNING: Total unpolitical incorrectness ahead…
I have not and probably will never read either Half of a Yellow Sun or The Second Coming of Mavala Shikongo. Because one is about Nigeria’s civil war, and one is set in post-war Namibia (a nation recently made famous by Angelina Jolie, thankyouverymuch), and I am sorry but I don’t CARE. I mean, I care in the sense that I wish there was better, less corrupt government in many of the small African nations, and I wish the refugees were better cared for, and I wish the Tutsis and the Hutus hadn’t felt the need to go slaughtering each other; I care in the way I care about what goes on in the real world. But Africa holds zero fascination for me; there are a thousand places on this planet I would rather visit and see before I decided to go to Africa. I will eagerly devour anything I can lay hands on about India; I enjoy European novels; and we are all aware of my minor Arctic/Antarctic fetish. But I am just not particularly interested in reading about Africa. I never even made it through Things Fall Apart even though H gave it to me so I could better understand the years he spent living in Cameroon. It didn’t do anything for my understanding other than to leave me saying, “Thank God I never joined the Peace Corps and got assigned to Cameroon.” So there you have it. And now I feel all Don Imus-y.
Cormac McCarthy’s The Road was the ultimate winner (also garnering the 2007 Pulitzer), and I actually have it sitting in my bedside basket to be read, now sooner rather than later. I am excited and more than a little scared. One too many people have mentioned babies cooked on spits for me to be comfortable...
OK, admittedly, I hadn’t read even half of the contending books, but this particular verrrrrry quiet night at the ref desk, this fact wound up making the recaps of the contest that much more engrossing.
So.
Kate Atkinson’s One Good Turn (her weakest novel, IMHO) made a decent showing, handily defeating Arthur and George, The Lay of the Land, and Against the Day before succumbing to Gary Shteyngart’s Absurdistan (which, I am so confused, I thought was knocked out in the first round by Half of a Yellow Sun; oh, wait, Zombie round, in which TOB readers get to vote a book into the competition).
The round one match-up of The Echo Maker versus The Emperor’s Children, two of the world’s most boring books, would have been enough for me to fling myself off a handy parapet. I felt for poor Marcus Sakey, whoever he is other than the judge of this pairing. Emperor's Children won. Again in my oh-so-humble opinion, Echo Maker should have made it to the second round instead, as it was at least nicely written, if dull. EC was abysmally, mind-numbingly dull AND badly written (I disagree with Jessa on this one, although her comments about the stereotypical characters are spot-on).
Monica Ali’s second novel Alentejo Blue was in contention; her first novel Brick Lane made me yawn, so I never started the second.
I don’t care for Thomas Pynchon, and Richard Ford puts me to sleep with his middle-aged male “Everyman” protagonist busy having a midlife crisis in suburban New Jersey.
WARNING: Total unpolitical incorrectness ahead…
I have not and probably will never read either Half of a Yellow Sun or The Second Coming of Mavala Shikongo. Because one is about Nigeria’s civil war, and one is set in post-war Namibia (a nation recently made famous by Angelina Jolie, thankyouverymuch), and I am sorry but I don’t CARE. I mean, I care in the sense that I wish there was better, less corrupt government in many of the small African nations, and I wish the refugees were better cared for, and I wish the Tutsis and the Hutus hadn’t felt the need to go slaughtering each other; I care in the way I care about what goes on in the real world. But Africa holds zero fascination for me; there are a thousand places on this planet I would rather visit and see before I decided to go to Africa. I will eagerly devour anything I can lay hands on about India; I enjoy European novels; and we are all aware of my minor Arctic/Antarctic fetish. But I am just not particularly interested in reading about Africa. I never even made it through Things Fall Apart even though H gave it to me so I could better understand the years he spent living in Cameroon. It didn’t do anything for my understanding other than to leave me saying, “Thank God I never joined the Peace Corps and got assigned to Cameroon.” So there you have it. And now I feel all Don Imus-y.
Cormac McCarthy’s The Road was the ultimate winner (also garnering the 2007 Pulitzer), and I actually have it sitting in my bedside basket to be read, now sooner rather than later. I am excited and more than a little scared. One too many people have mentioned babies cooked on spits for me to be comfortable...
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