Sunday, July 16, 2006

Late Nights

Well I finished Too Close to the Falls by Catherine Gildiner. I was up till after 3:30 am reading it on Friday/Saturday. Then spend Saturday morning finishing it. Growing up in the 50's is always a good read. I ordered this from the library (that's right-ordered I have a great library at my fingertips. Any book I'm interested in, I just click away and if they don't have it, they order it. It's as simple as that. In the past four years there has only been two times, that I couldn't get the book I wanted and that was because they were out of print) because I was reading Seduction, but I just couldn't get into the story. The characters were boring, the theme was boring, the story unbelievable, it just sucked, but that was only the first 1/4 . But the writing style very good,(can't think of any other way to describe it) so I pulled the authors name up from the library. To see what else she had written. I think that the first book of any author is always superior to the second. This is the case with Goldiner as well. Though many people Have told me they enjoyed "seduction" I was told to "perservere" "you'll enjoy it". When I have a pile of 20 books on the stairs, I'm not in the mood to "perservere" . If a book doesn't catch me after a couple chapters, forget it. It gets thrown and the next one (and there is always the next one) gets the nod. I should never start reading a new book in the evening. I should know better. But my husband was out of town over night, my daughter was out -doing I don't know what. I wasn't used to being alone at night anymore. I just changed the sheets on the bed, opened the window - it was a pleasant evening, but nothing to do. So I grabbed the next book from the pile. After reading The weather maker I was hoping for something a little lite. Hmmm it's about the 50's. I always like to get other impressions of the 50's. My 50's/60's had to be the most uninspiring, boring ,uneventful era in 4000 years of history. I spent those years thinking/hoping I was adopted. It used to annoy me when people said me and my sister looked like twins. My sister had a great life, my brother had a great life, but poor me in the middle was miserable. I used to fantisize about being an only child. My sister - first born, my brother - first boy. Life seemed to revolve around the two of them. I was just invisible. It was always if my sister didn't do this or that, then why did I have to or want to. I wanted piano lesson, my sister refused to even consider it. She looked at me as though I was crazy. I wanted to be a figure skater, blah was my sisters response. Instead I got stuck playing softball on a team (to this day i despise team sports) because my sisters team was short a player during a tournament and I was FORCED to play or else they would have to forfeit. I hate softball. I always had to wear the same style of clothes as her, the same shoes as her. My mother used to force her to take me whenever she went out with her friends, both of us hated that. Her friends used to beat me up and tell me to go home. I would have rather been at home reading a book. I hated her friends. I'm a watcher of the world, she was always a doer. Her birthday is a week before xmas, mine is in the spring. My parents always used to spend - what I thought at the time - lavishly on her presents. I remember one year I got a bike for my birthday, a blue ccm with a red basket. I was told to share. Because her's was an old used one and mine was a new one. How are you supposed to share one bike anyway. She never shared her old beat up one with me. She took my bike and smashed it over a pile of rocks at a construction site. Nobody said anything about it except me. When she was in grade eight she got a typewriter for her birthday. A TYPEWRITER I couldn't believe it. And I was told I COULDN'T TOUCH IT, LEAVE IT ALONE kinda stuff. It was time for pay back as far as I was concerned. My mangled up bike against her new typewriter. I went out of my way to type as often as I could whenever I was in the house alone. The typewriter had to be serviced alot. I don't think anyone ever caught on that It was me doing the damage. I remember the salesman telling my mother that "someone was being too rough with it" my mother such scoffed and said that was impossible. The carriage return was screwed, the keys were always jammed. She got to wear make-up first, I remember the shopping trip to pick out her make-up was such a big deal. The following year when I was in grade 8 , "why do you have to have make-up, can't you just wear your sisters". She was allowed to have a boyfriend first (we're only 16 months apart), she got her period first. She got everything first. By the time it was my turn, my mother had already done it with my sister, and it wasn't such a big deal anymore. I spent my adolescence in resentment. I remember my first job as my freedom. I could buy my own clothes, my own make-up, my own cigarettes. I bought a pistol style hair blower and everyone thought it was one of the stupest things on earth. "what a waste of money" . I had that hair dryer for more than 20 years. When I had three children to raise of my own I went out of my way to make sure there was no resentment, that they were raised different. They were raised as individuals with their own interests and wants. But you just can't win-doesn't matter when you do. I was telling someone (I don't remember who) that I didn't have to toilet train my youngest daughter that she did it on her own. We bought a camper that summer and went on a trip. I bought diapers at the beginning of the holiday but didn't need any at the end. I don't even know what happened, when it happened or who did what. All I remember is I stopped having to buy diapers forever. She wanted to be like the other kids and use the smelly outdoor toilets. She overheard me telling this story and to this day still brings it up as "you never spent the same amount of time with me as my sister and brother, I even had to toiletrain myself", that's the ONLY amunition she has. Well getting back to the book.....
I enjoyed it and now am on to the next.
Edward Rutherford's Irish Saga. It's been sitting on the stairs for about two weeks. I only have a week before I start paying fines on it. It's been calling me " look I am... read me" everytime I go up the stairs. But it's so BIG. And reading Edward Rutherford is such an investment because his books are soooooooooo good. I've really loved all of them. It's a book that you can't just start and stop, and get back to later. It's a read and read it all right now. So you can't have any plans, there better be wine and muchies in the house, and lots of leftovers. So since my husband is out of town until tuesday I figured nows the time to dedicate to this book. The only break I get is this (I came downstairs to make coffee. I finally went to sleep around 2am) and I had to let the dog out. I really should take a nap these late evenings are killing me. I haven't really eaten anything since Friday except pickles, jelly beans, wine, guacamole and potato chips. But I did make the guacamole fresh so I'm not that lazy. And between books yesterday I even made some blueberry jam. Even I'm amazed at that. But there they are sitting on the kitchen counter. Waiting to be put somewhere. It's the only jam I can make the only one that ever turns out is blueberry jam and apricot marmalade. That's the only two jams in me. So it's back to the salt mines I go. It's a nice day outside so I'll stock up my snack tray and pour my first glass of wine. I really need a more comfortable lawn chair. I never needed one in the apartment - the balcony was too tiny. But here I can see I'll have to do some shopping for outdoor furniture. I'll need two I'm tired of hauling the one uncomfortable chair from the back to the front for shade.

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