Speaking of demons: the baby has tapped into some unholy amounts of hyperactivity. She's still a really easygoing chickadee, but the girl barely touches the ground lately. She bounces, flies, flutters, paces, and runs laps. Omigod with the laps! She does circles around our coffee table for hours.
We're otherwise in winter cocoon mode here, burning yummy-smelling wood and snuggling and reading and consuming more than our small family's share of hot cocoa and bean soups and chili. The great early-November feat of fitting my roundness into size 14 jeans has now turned into a shrugging Ah well... eff it. It's winter. At least the 16s fit. We finally took advantage of the employee perk of getting a deal on a gym membership at the YW. Shane's teaching Mollybird to swim.
I decided to give up coffee, to help with the anxiety and to finally follow my gyno nurses' long standing request to decrease caffeine. (I have fibroid cyst-filled boobs and am starting to worry that they could hide something during an exam.) Then I decided Ah well... eff it. It's winter, etc.
I've moved from all-Netflix-all-the-time back to consuming books like oxygen. I looked through A Million Little Pieces, struck like I was with Infinite Jest how similar addiction experiences are to depression, only with more waking up bloody-nosed and less eating. I like the style- the chopped up sentences and graphic directness work well with the content. (And do not, in fact, put me in mind of DFW, the KING of verbosity.) The feeling that dude's totally bragging that he's the Most Fucked Up of all addicted fuck-ups is tiresome, however. The whole liar deal doesn't really phase me. A book's a book whether memoir or embellishment.
Much more aligned with my taste is This Body. It's a fantasy premise but like The Time Traveler's Wife the mystical element works as a device to showcase character development. The whole story pivots on an axis that is A Midsummer Night's Dream. (So I loved it that much more...) The book is a very fleshed out meditation on the nature of women's lives as they relate to the family. A fortyish? Katharine dies and reincarnates a year later into the overdosed, freshly-dead, young Thisby. Thiz is an artist and consummate slacker/druggie/goth kid. Cutest moment? Katharine refers to goths as "winter people."
Having finished This Body over my first (cheaty!) cup of coffee, I dug into The Children of Men. The style of the novel is drastically different from the movie. I love it almost as much as I do the film adaptation, though. I might, all said and done, like the movie better. The frenetic pace and supersaturated feel works better with my emotional reaction to the plot. The first section of the book is very "whimper" but the film's sense of BANG! follows the second half.The film's action really begins nearly halfway into the novel, where there is a lot of background. Miriam the midwife still rocks my socks.
- My post about a beloved Haitian folk story book & new Vodoun-love art for Bloggers Unite for Haiti- get in on this Feb 1 event here.
- A tour of my darling shop for Treasure Nest Tuesday
- Another fantabulous UPrinting giveaway
- My first product review wherein I will wax poetic about dog shit & removing evidence thereof
- Some environmental activism news & such