A few books I read this week:
We wish to inform you that tomorrow we will be killed with our families: stories from Rwanda by Philip Gourevitch
I'm Fine with God...It's Christians I Can't Stand: Getting Past the Religious Garbage in the Search for Spiritual Truth by Bruce Bickel and Stand Jantz
The Almond Picker by Simonetta Agnello Hornby (translated from the Italian)
Sea Glass by Anita Shreve
The Quiet River by P.M. Hubbard
Two Destinies One Fate by Mariah Williams, my 14-year old friend who has now completed perhaps two chapters of her fantasy novel and has set up the plot and characters very nicely. She names me on the dedication page as "the teacher I had for creative writing for so many years." It is a joy to see her talent blossom.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Jealousy
It is a little green monster and I have been touched with a plague of it this week.
First, an innocuous chatty email from a dear friend mentioned that she and her husband had signed up for a trip to Egypt. In the same email she said that another friend of ours was planning to leave for Croatia to visit. If that didn't beat all, another dear friend who had been reading this blog got in touch with me to catch up and said she was meeting her husband (who is in the Middle East) in Munich for two weeks.
A friend's blog reported on her day-to-day day adventures in Afghanistan.
Another blog has an acquaintance leaving for Tanzania in a week.
And a close friend left last week to return to Haiti where she calls home.
Another blog reader spends a couple weeks every summer in the south of France.
And me? I am stuck in southern Indiana feeling very sorry for myself and jealous. Hey, I'm thinking, my passport is up to date. On the one hand I want to be happy for these folks who will see more of the world and have grand stories to tell. On the other hand...well, you know the other hand. Give me some time. Perhaps each will send a postcard or bring me a souvenir.
And that's what I think about it.
First, an innocuous chatty email from a dear friend mentioned that she and her husband had signed up for a trip to Egypt. In the same email she said that another friend of ours was planning to leave for Croatia to visit. If that didn't beat all, another dear friend who had been reading this blog got in touch with me to catch up and said she was meeting her husband (who is in the Middle East) in Munich for two weeks.
A friend's blog reported on her day-to-day day adventures in Afghanistan.
Another blog has an acquaintance leaving for Tanzania in a week.
And a close friend left last week to return to Haiti where she calls home.
Another blog reader spends a couple weeks every summer in the south of France.
And me? I am stuck in southern Indiana feeling very sorry for myself and jealous. Hey, I'm thinking, my passport is up to date. On the one hand I want to be happy for these folks who will see more of the world and have grand stories to tell. On the other hand...well, you know the other hand. Give me some time. Perhaps each will send a postcard or bring me a souvenir.
And that's what I think about it.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
GPS
It seemed like a nice birthday gift. I gave it to my husband early so he could play with his new Garman.
He selected the British English as the voice he would hear directing him to his destinations.
Unfortunately we were not going anywhere new and so my husband resorted to typing in the address of the church and on another day the address of our favorite breakfast place (see previous blog). Again unfortunately, we have several routes to both places and the Garman would often pipe up with 'recalculating' and direct us from whatever road we had turned on. One time, on a trip to the post office she kept repeating, "Make a U-turn as soon as legal." Jim shut her off.
The saddest thing about this gift was something I overheard my husband telling a friend, "I love this GPS. The voice is so polite. None of this, 'Why didn't you turn three miles back?' "
Ouch!
And yet all good things must come to an end and this morning when once again the Garman lady attempted to direct us a different way to a destination we knew like the back of our hand, Jim said, "There goes the British hag."
My daughter and I would like to propose that Garman create a 'wife' voice for their product. One where the wife can record, "You're way over the speed limit," "Whatever possessed you to take this route?," or "I would have told you if you'd have asked." But for now we'll stick to our polite, even-keeled British matron who is consistent and even-tempered, even in the face of cynicism and sarcasm and name-calling.
And that's what I think about it.
He selected the British English as the voice he would hear directing him to his destinations.
Unfortunately we were not going anywhere new and so my husband resorted to typing in the address of the church and on another day the address of our favorite breakfast place (see previous blog). Again unfortunately, we have several routes to both places and the Garman would often pipe up with 'recalculating' and direct us from whatever road we had turned on. One time, on a trip to the post office she kept repeating, "Make a U-turn as soon as legal." Jim shut her off.
The saddest thing about this gift was something I overheard my husband telling a friend, "I love this GPS. The voice is so polite. None of this, 'Why didn't you turn three miles back?' "
Ouch!
And yet all good things must come to an end and this morning when once again the Garman lady attempted to direct us a different way to a destination we knew like the back of our hand, Jim said, "There goes the British hag."
My daughter and I would like to propose that Garman create a 'wife' voice for their product. One where the wife can record, "You're way over the speed limit," "Whatever possessed you to take this route?," or "I would have told you if you'd have asked." But for now we'll stick to our polite, even-keeled British matron who is consistent and even-tempered, even in the face of cynicism and sarcasm and name-calling.
And that's what I think about it.
Monday, August 18, 2008
So many books, so little time
Last weekend the library hosted their annual book sale. Hardbacks a dollar; soft covers at .50! Books set out by the thousands on long tables up and down the middle of the mall. Overhead signs identified the type of book at those tables beneath: western, science fiction, biographies, mysteries, how-to books, religious books, every genre that the library offers on its shelves was on sale, including CDs, children's books, and movies.
We shopped both days of the sale. The first day was crowded with folks who did not fit my stereotype of the 'bookie.' Pushy and rude, they came pulling rolling carts and suitcases to put their choices in so they wouldn't have to carry books around from table to table. The fiction table was rung with a solid wall of shoppers. Breaking into the slowly moving circle was nearly impossible. Perhaps a place would open up when a cell phone rang, or a child ran up to hug a parent or when the person in line had looked at all sides of the table.
Yet even this was a problem because the volunteers continued to put out books. As soon as books were plucked off the table for sale volunteers stuffed new titles in their place so one could potentially go around and around to a never-ending supply of 'new' titles.
Perseverance paid off. I am typing this and looking at our dining room table. I am thinking Christmas morning. Stacked atop are 72 'new' books. That's a season's worth of reading and I am looking forward to the chillier Fall weather and the snows of winter.
That's what I'm thinking about.
We shopped both days of the sale. The first day was crowded with folks who did not fit my stereotype of the 'bookie.' Pushy and rude, they came pulling rolling carts and suitcases to put their choices in so they wouldn't have to carry books around from table to table. The fiction table was rung with a solid wall of shoppers. Breaking into the slowly moving circle was nearly impossible. Perhaps a place would open up when a cell phone rang, or a child ran up to hug a parent or when the person in line had looked at all sides of the table.
Yet even this was a problem because the volunteers continued to put out books. As soon as books were plucked off the table for sale volunteers stuffed new titles in their place so one could potentially go around and around to a never-ending supply of 'new' titles.
Perseverance paid off. I am typing this and looking at our dining room table. I am thinking Christmas morning. Stacked atop are 72 'new' books. That's a season's worth of reading and I am looking forward to the chillier Fall weather and the snows of winter.
That's what I'm thinking about.
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