books · change




Be prepared: I’m not terribly focused.


It’s Tuesday night, and my room smells like Vicks Vapo-rub. I managed to catch the cold that has floated around our house for the last month, and for the last twenty-four hours I have been sneezing, sniffling and coughing. I feel like death on a stick. All I can keep-rambling-nonsense-and-drive-everyone-bananas-640x640do sit in my chair and watch television, going through seasons of Six Feet Under, guzzling juice and tearing through Kleenex.


We recently changed cable providers, from Dish Network back to Comcast, and I am digging the On Demand programming. Watching all sorts of shows that I missed out on the first time around, like Oz. For those of you who don’t know, Oz is a HBO show set inside a men’s prison. I watched a few seasons of Oz on Netflix, and now I am going on. This is such a freaky show, I have to be sure not to watch right before bed, or when Max is in the house. Honestly, all the male body parts flying around are, well, both disconcerting and titillating. The sheer violence is enticing, in a primitive way. This show is, for me, a guilty pleasure.


Then we have Six Feet Under, another HBO show, this one revolving around a family funeral home. At the beginning, my favorite thing about this show was the way the dead folks would hang around, talking to the morticians. I’m only part-way into Season two, and that seems to have stopped happening. The idea of death as a business, as well as a part of life, is complex and intriguing, and I find the idea of it just fascinating. Does that make me twisted? I don’t know, or care, really. In the end, I’m not watching this because I’m interested in the deaths, but because of the characters and story lines.


Speaking of story lines and characters, my friend Karen is writing a book, and I’ve had the privileged of reading it as she writes, giving her some critique. I am so thrilled that she chose me for this honor; her book is, so far, wonderful! From the first paragraph, I was drawn in, and I cannot wait for it to be finished so I know what happens. Karen is enormously talented, which I’ve always known, but I think she is just figuring it out herself. I must admit to being a bit envious. She is doing what I cannot, or have not done. For that I am extremely proud of her, and at the same time, kinda jealous! When her book is done, I will be glad to share it with everyone I know.


The NyQuil is kicking in, and I am yawning. Goodnight, sweethearts, goodnight.




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