Life in progress


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“The Casual Vacancy” by JK Rowling – A Review

The Casual VacancyThe Casual Vacancy by J.K. Rowling

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

In a truthful and incredibly rich tale of the disparity between comfortable and poor, “The Casual Vacancy” highlights the fact that one can never really know what goes on inside someone else’s existence.

I have to say that it was a little difficult to remember who was who at the beginning, but once I had all of the characters sorted out, I simply couldn’t put it down. Rowling’s ability to dive into the depths of each of her characters is every bit as wonderful as with her Harry Potter clan – but don’t expect a children’s tale. At times a difficult read, it is, (and I can’t express this enough) truthful–full of life and all its joys and misery.

This book will remain with me for a long while; it will sit in a place of honour amongst my favourites of all time.

View all my reviews


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How Random

I live in a town where dog poop is front page news. It was thrown over a fence. In tiny baggies, no less.

I shit you not.

In other news, I’m still working on the article which will reveal the person behind “Boy Series…” I want it to be perfect. In fact I don’t think I’ve worked on any short piece of work this hard, ever. I hope someone actually reads it. 😛

It’s still as cold as a polar bear’s poo … thrown over a fence … Never mind.

My mind is too muddled by all the things going on in real life.

Scream

What random thing happened in your life today?


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Not Listening

somebody

For all you parents out there who think their young kids take advantage, consider this:

A Deaf child who doesn’t want to go to bed, really can act like he’s not listening if he refuses to look at you…


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Making Everyone Happy

They say you can’t make everyone happy. But what if you can’t help trying?

I’m okay to a point. I can say no to people if I feel that what I’m saying no to is in most people’s best interests. Or if what they’re asking for is impossible. Take Alex, my youngest son, for instance. He asks me to take him to the toy store a minimum of ten times a day, every weekend. I tell him I don’t have the money to buy him a video game every weekend and I stick to it… mostly. On average he somehow ends up with about six a year.

On Friday my mother moved into a retirement home. She is of course not happy – I’m told that it’s rare anyone is, for the first little while. If she lives alone it will be up to me to get her groceries, take her to her appointments, make sure she’s safe and healthy, and all this from the other end of town. Granted, it’s not a big town. But when I’m faced with dragging a kid around who may or may not be hooked up to a feeding pump and leaving my Autistic son, Chris, at home alone for an indeterminate period of time, it is a big deal for me.

Having her in the home where she can be supervised 24/7 is a huge worry off my shoulders, both because I know she’s safe and I know she’s eating well. And yet I can’t stop thinking, What’s one more thing? I can handle it… make her happy and let her live alone.

How do I convince myself that I matter in all this? I have to stay strong.


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Stream of Consciousness Saturday Fe22/14

The wind blows where ever it wants to blow. It’s warming up outside and so the gusts are fierce. It’s days like today when branches weakened from the weight of snow and ice come down on roofs and cars (two things I’ve been having problems with of late). Times like this I listen to the creaking of the trees around my house and I want to say to the wind:

Wind, dude, stop blowin’ already. Get outta my trees. C’mon man. Ye’r makin’ me nervous, dude.

But you can’t reason with the wind. It blows where ever it wants.

Like ice. It forms when it snows, and then the snow melts and the water sits there until it freezes into sheets of slippery pavement that have me flailing as I deliver my newspapers. Like the wind, I want to say to the ice:

Ice! Stop being so damn slippery!

But you can’t reason with the ice. It keeps on being slick. So much so that I thought this morning, as I slid around the block not moving my feet because the wind was blowing me on this ice, maybe this combo ain’t so bad after all.

Dude.


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Force Of Nature

Remember the pretty icicles?

iceice

Look! No more icicles!

no icicles

And no more eavestroughs too!

*grumblegrumblegrumble*


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Shhh! Don’t Tell My Mom

The last thing I want to do is worry my mother, so I’m keeping this quiet. I can tell all of you though, because she doesn’t read my blog.

I think her car is trying to kill me.

I went out in it today to pick up some groceries, for myself as well as for her. As I came up to a stop sign I put my foot on the brake and the engine started to rev. The more I pushed the brake, the faster the engine went – and the faster the car went. Luckily there was nothing coming (and there were no cops around) because I blasted through that stop sign.

Since then I’ve started putting it into neutral when I want to stop. That’ll teach it.

But in the meantime, would someone please tell it I was only going to buy her cookies?


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I Don’t Want to Intimidate You, but…

Do you remember how you felt when you started on WordPress? If you’re fairly new here, I would imagine it’s pretty fresh in your mind. Even I consider myself a bit of a newb, but after just a little more than a year I’ve come to feel comfortable here; I’ve found a great community, some wonderful friends, and plenty of people who I can joke around with.

What stands out most in my mind from when I started, however, is how intimidated I felt when I stumbled across a popular blog and I wanted to comment. Should I? They seem like such a tight bunch of people, bantering about things they’ve learned about one another…

So I was considering this, and I wondered if people who are just starting out feel that way when they stop by to read my blog.

In light of my pondering, I decided to change my comment box prompt from “Leave a comment” to what it is now.

How do you make newcomers feel welcome? How do you encourage them to join in the discussion?


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How Are Chickens Like Days Off?

I’m within an hour of the end of two days off. Yesterday I got a fair bit of work done on my manuscript – almost fifteen pages edited, which for me is flying through. I managed to take the evening off from everything and just watch an episode of “Breaking Bad.” I’ve only watched two so far – still wondering what all the hype’s about.

Then today I was woken up early with a phone call – Chris was sick at school and they couldn’t reach his dad. So I texted my ex, got up, delivered the papers, had a piece of toast and lay on the couch … and proceeded to sleep most of the day away. No editing accomplished.

How are chickens like days off?

Don’t count them before they’re hatched.

I need a week off.


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Of All the Things to Whine About

I’m content. Basically, I am happy with my life, and yes, I’m whining about it. Let me tell you why.

The tortured soul can write poems of epic proportions. In times of loneliness, of pain, of near breakdown, a writer can bleed upon the page. But when this writer has nothing to cause her grief, there is nothing but fluff. Lint, even.

Is it strange to wish I longed for something? To pass my finger quickly through a flame doesn’t hurt. But the flame sparkles, enticingly.

Shall I burn for the sake of my art?

flame