Books That Waste Your Time

Fairly frequently I start a book, get a few chapters into it and decide it's not interesting enough to continue. Since I started this challenge, however, I was reluctant to do this, thinking I was already halfway into it and I wasn't sure if I would have enough time to read the 50 I committed to, so I forced myself to finish them.

Not this week. In fact, I started two books that had a cuteish idea but really not enough substance for an entire book. One was about a guy that went all over the world to sample all the different kinds of oysters. Now wishing I were an oyster lover, I checked it out from the library, eager to be entranced. Sadly this did not happen. While I still want to try them again, (no I never do learn my lesson) the descriptions he used over and over was sweet and briny, and I got about halfway through the book and thought, "this should have been a short essay, not a book."

The other book was a guy writing about his experiences working in upscale retail. Selling handbags. Once again, not enough material for a book. Once again I stopped halfway. While he was a little amusing, his use of language veered too much into the four letter category for my taste. And seriously folks, how much is there to say about rich women buying expensive purses? Oh, yeah, in the upscale handbag world the word 'purses' is outlawed. So now you know.

The exciting reason that I didn't have to finish these books was I will easily surpass the fifty book mark by my fiftieth birthday. The other categories I doubt, and I'm not sure how much I will even try at this point.

Here's my take on that:
1. I made the rules and I can break them!
2. Entering stupid contests just gives everyone your email address
3. Entering important contests takes $$ and a lot of time
4. Trying to measure what you've learned is impossible unless you take some sort of course
5. It is really hard to find 50 things I've never eaten.
6. It is great fun going to 50 new places, so I'm off to Oahu where I'm sure to add to this category!!

Bye.

The Big Move

Late Saturday afternoon we moved the chickens into their new home. It was fairly easy to catch the first two, but then word got out and the other ten huddled out of reach, squawking and flapping their wings, requiring much kneeling in poop and entering a two foot high cage (by my husband) to catch the rest. We carried them two by two, then four by four in their original plastic tote condo (two joined together with a pass-through) and set them free in chicken heaven--their new outdoor space. It is ten by twenty feet and a little ramp access chicken door leads to their indoor house, which is nine by six with four nesting boxes and a two-level perch.

They loved the outdoor space but avoided the ramp and the ominous dark space beyond like they'd seen it on an episode of the Twilight Zone. It was getting late and we were beyond tired. Like all parents we were anxious for them to go to bed. We hung their old heat lamp in hopes that it would be a familiar and comforting sight and act as a chicken night light but when that didn't work we resorted to chasing them again and heaving them in. Gently, of course. And then we spent the rest of the evening worrying that they were flailing about crushing each other. We set the clock for five a.m. and went out and opened the chicken door to let them out. They were sound asleep but made an appearance later that morning. That night it took awhile but all of them made it inside without any aerobics on our part. A peaceful night was had by all.

A Class Act

So it was to be an evening of culture and education. A night of discussion about the impact of digital media on filmmaking. We were there early and decided to have a drink in the bar. One minute I was walking and the next I was fighting for balance, as my left foot slid left, and my right one went God knows where. For a brief minute of suspended animation I thought I was safe. Then gravity kicked in and I went down. Hard. There was a collective gasp from the other bar patrons, as I hurried to my feet and pretended I was okay. I could only thank God that my little name tag that said, "Hello, my name is..." was hidden by my jacket. And truly folks this happened before the complimentary wine reception at the end of the evening.

The rest of the evening found my mind wandering to how I could fit that scene into my writing. Weird, but that's what you do when you're a writer. Incorporate your life into your fiction. However, I usually prefer the laughs to be at someone else's expense. But hey, you take your material where you find it and run with it.