I was excited F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby was a novel my daughter’s English class was reading this semester. Last year, when her class read my all-time favorite, To Kill a Mockingbird, she and I had wonderful discussions.
I wanted to repeat the experience.
Now, it’s been many years since I read Gatsby. I decided this time I’d read along at the same pace as the class and get the benefit of their discussions in talking with my daughter later.
I went to see Dark Shadows this weekend. With one reservation (I’ll get to that later), I enjoyed it. If you appreciate a twisty sense of humor, have a healthy ability to suspend disbelief, love Tim Burton or Johnny Depp, you will probably like this movie.
Conventional writerly wisdom says one should wait weeks or even (gasp!) months between finishing a first draft and starting revisions. But, dammit, I couldn’t wait that long.
Yes, Prrrrecious, I’m back….
Over the past month, I rewatched the Lord of the Rings film trilogy, which motivated me to reread the books (it’s been several years). Half way through The Fellowship of the Ring novel, I realized that despite the differences between the two forms, I truly love each as a separate experience.
This isn’t usually the case with me.
My husband lovingly calls it “vomiting on Mom.”
My mother used to call it “telling about your day.”
I call it “necessary evil.”
Since writing my last post, a diagnosis has been revealed concerning the 12 teenage girls in my community who suddenly developed a tic disorder.
Well, folks, when you can’t believe things could get any stranger in the world of raising families, something new pops up and blows everything before it away.
Warning: This is a long and winding post even though I cut out a lot of the extraneous stuff.
Right after Thanksgiving it seems the world explodes. At least for me. The rush is on towards Christmas and all the craziness that goes with it.
I’ve written heartfelt posts at Christmas before, so this year I’m wallowing in the crude, commercial side…
It’s my usual dilemma: Too much to do and not enough time, energy, or financial resources to do it all. Like everybody these days, it’s a constant struggle to balance a busy life. I can’t do it all, despite what all those people say about multi-tasking.
When I multi-task, I just get a bunch of things done half-assed.
Then my perfectionism rears its ugly head.
Then I explode.
Then I have to apologize. (And I hate to apologize.)
When my youngest daughter left for the first day of school last month, I was riveted. She wore her new Aeropostale shirt and skinny jeans with her messenger bag and confidently walked up the street.
Where did my little girl go?
Some time over the summer she switched bodies with this coltish young lady who wouldn’t look out of place in an LL Bean catalogue. Not long ago, she was racing down the street as fast as her (shorter) legs could carry her, backpack flapping behind her.
I don’t remember a transition.
Of course she came home and immediately picked a fight with her older sister, and then I recognized her again.
