Wednesday, June 16, 2010

June 16, 2010

Sunrise was at 5:11, sunset will be 9:09.

It's wet.

My throat's sore, swollen, and my back aches. I spent all night snoring and waking myself up. My hands are still numb and tingly from the long drive home and then gardening on Monday. And did I wear my braces to bed? I know what happens after those activities and I didn't even think to pull them out of the drawer. I am still waiting for the wisdom and the adulthood that comes with being a certain age.

Like puberty, periods, menopause, wisdom should just happen next in the span of life! You wake up one day, the rolling heat and sweat of the last many years is gone and you know how best to respond to a crisis, you have the right words for someone in pain, and you remember to put your braces on and pay the bills on time.

Maybe that's not wisdom. Maybe it's just paying attention and a lot of practice.

Maybe wisdom comes when you finally don't have to split your attention between decisions you have to make, people you need to counsel, and wondering whether the butt sweat from that last hot flash shows when you stand up. When the energy you expend trying not to feel sick when that horrible prickly heat rolls up your body, when you finally don't wonder what happened to that flat belly, when all that time spent trying to stay cold (and still keep your feet warm) is over, you can think clearly enough to make good decisions.

Anyhoo, I'm cold now!

I am reading Per Petterson's I Curse the River of Time (Graywolf Press) while I ride the stationary bike in the mornings before work. It will be available for sale in August.

August is a good month for books written about Norway. It's good, so far, and keeps me from overheating with all the talk of ferries in the fjords and cold winds on deck.

It is about a man who is getting divorced. His mom has stomach cancer. She has gone back to her childhood home to think and he has gone to join her. Everything he does has a memory attached to it and I like that it feels so common; this is a story we could all write. It's a small volume and it seems like he chooses his words with care, picking the exact one to put his thoughts across, saving the excesses for a next, more exuberant book.

I just finished The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner, by Stephenie Meyer (Little Brown Books). It was good, but not my favorite by any means. It wasn't as romantic or as exciting as her longer novels, it couldn't be since it is too short for much introspection or character development. It's something that fans will want to add to the canon and I can see where the writing of these novellas could be addicting. Pick a minor character here, a major character's life changing moment there, and there are whole new worlds to explore (and books to write) in nugget-like bits. I really want to reread Eclipse, now, to find where this book slips in. I like that a dollar from each book's sale goes to the American Red Cross.

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