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Category: Misc.

Conversation

Me: I came over to visit my schnooky puppy an’ snuddle her little puppy self and kiss her puppy nose. Mumsy: Why are you like this? Me: Oh, hey, Mumsy, you should do a guest review on my blog! Mumsy: No. Me: Yes!  Mumsy, you should!  What about all those reviews you do on GoodReads and LibraryThing?  I could just– Mumsy: No!  They’re no good! Me: Oh, Mumsy.  The bar that has been set by me is oh so very very low. Mumsy: Oh I don’t want to. Me: Come on!  It’ll be fun!  I’ll be all, Heeeeeeere’s Mumsy!  And…

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I love y’all

Seriously, I mean it.  I know there have been a lot of angsty posts recently about the book blogging community being clique-ish or bitchy and it will soon collapse in on itself like a dying star.  And I just wanted to say that I have never ever felt that way.  My experience of book bloggers has been that you are exceptionally kind, gracious, welcoming, and courteous.  You are forthcoming with congratulations on good occasions and commiserations on bad.  You give birthday presents like hobbits.  You very sweetly email me to tell me the twists in the books you’ve just read…

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Fantasy recommendations, please

Why does everyone always get raped in fantasy books?  That’s what I want to know.  I was all excited to read Daughter of the Blood, which Memory and Ana both said was wonderful, but see, if I had just glanced at Amazon and seen the plot synopsis that said “Sexual violence pervades [this book]”, I would have known in advance that it is not for me.  As it was I was doggedly determined to finish it, and I got all through, and nothing got resolved because it’s the first in a series, and, and, and I am sad.  I really…

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DNF: Castleview, Gene Wolfe; and what I thought about the new kid

The jacket copy on the Gene Wolfe books at the library assured me that Gene Wolfe’s most famous books are a series with the word Sun in them, but failed to explain to me which book was the first of that series.  Yes, I could have looked it up on the library computers, but I was only getting his books in the first place because he was right there under W, and Sexing the Cherry was not, so I couldn’t be bothered expending a lot of effort. Again I say unto you: It is not a good strategy to get…

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No guns are allowed at the book sale, if by “the book sale” you mean “my life”

At Easter, as I was explaining to my five-year-old cousin why we don’t throw tantrums even when other people find more Easter eggs, and my two-year-old cousin was loudly proclaiming his enjoyment of the swing, my father came over and said, “I’m going to go shooting out back,” which meant actually he was going to go out back, shoot maybe twice, and the rest of the time just set targets and chat to my uncles.  My father is a peaceful type. “Oh good!” I said quickly before I could talk myself out of it (I am afraid of guns).  “I’m…

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Shriek. Squee. Fangirl delight.

I know!  I’m so fickle!  But: This does seem to be the pattern with me and the new kid.  My heart is hardened against him like the Pharaoh against Moses, and I watch the clips with glowery eyes and my arms crossed, and I think angry thoughts about the new kid and his myriad inadequacies.  And then, in the midst of all this, he goes and does something really Doctory and causes me to love him (briefly).  But I think this clip from “Vampires of Venice” has put paid to all my negative expectations.  Well, that, and the fact that…

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My sister’s coming home!

Not the sister in New Orleans (she is already home), and not the sister who sometimes comments on this blog to offer me books and make lawyer-like objections to my turns-of-phrase (she is busy learning things in New England), but the littlest sister, the one who is studying abroad in Old England.  She’s coming home! and I am glad that she is, because I have just about reached the end of my tolerance for watching movies without her. When Social Sister and I are together, we have this tendency to say the same things over and over, with increasing excitement…

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Bon temps, after all

This weekend I drove down to New Orleans to visit my sister.  I do not like driving to unfamiliar places, and driving in New Orleans, as you will know if you have been there, is not set up in such a way as to prevent a bewildered girl from getting lost.  For that reason I have not managed to pay a solo visit to my sister since she moved to New Orleans two years ago (that reason and also the cats she has, which I am allergic to, but mostly I am just a bad person).  We thought we would…

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Stomping around my bedroom late at night

I do not appreciate the suggestion that Oscar Wilde’s cleverness consisted in paradoxical epigram.  I will accept gracious tributes to Wilde’s way with epigrams, like Dorothy Parker’s: If, with the literate, I am Impelled to try an epigram, I never seek to take the credit. We all assume that Oscar said it. Thank you, Dorothy Parker.  You have lovely qualities and could bang out epigrams with the best of them. I will not, however, sit idly by in the face of any slighting reference to Oscar Wilde that implies that he was not as witty and charming as he is…

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Best. Day. Ever.

But first, can I say?  The puppy is monster-sized now.  Every time I stop by my parents’ house, Jasmine M. Puppy has gotten huger.  At the start of February I already thought she was massive, if fluffy: Monstrous, right?  Can’t possibly get any bigger than that?  Already the world’s largest ever puppy?  Aha, but this is before she got groomed.  I talked to my mother the day after Jasmine got groomed, and I asked her how the puppy looked, and she said tragically, “They groomed her like a poodle!”  (Which is what she is.)  And then my mother said, continuing…

49 Comments