I've just surfaced from a good book. I loved this book, every page of it. I was taken into its world, in anguish over the fate of its characters. I even composed an imaginary letter of recrimination to the author when one of the characters died and I was grief-stricken. The book I've just finished is called "My Sister's Keeper" by Jodi Piccoult. I'm comparing it to the books I read as a child that always sent me into another world. Not that Sister's Keeper compares to Sweet Valley High or the Caitlin horse series, but just as you can smell the flower scented air of the Secret Garden or feel the salt on your skin from the Island of the Blue Dolphins, you forget to breath the Santa Barbara air in 2007. Someday I'll have to return to my life. Or maybe I'll just find another good book. Got any recommendations?
My picture of hell: one soggy rainy day, two healthy energetic children, three solid days of DVDs, one dog that needs to pee but refuses to get wet, and me. Alone with the carnage and contracted to get 4 hours of work done. And just to frost the cake, Lucie can take off her pooy diaper now, which delights us all, but especially the dog, to no end. These days it is sort of a toss up for who has left the pile on the carpet. Lucie? Dog? The fact that it landed on top of a princess high heel is good indication the culprit was of the two-legged, shoe-loving, Oreo-eating variety, which makes it only slightly less disgusting to remove behind a 28-ply Kleenex. Pray for sunshine.
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