I've read too many books to mention them all. I just finished Midnight In The Garden Of Good And Evil by John Berendt--(Interesting--how do people live that way?) The Secret Supper by Javier Sierra--(Boring- but as I examine The Last Supper, I do wonder why John who is shown with no beard to represent his youth also has no shoulder? And why is the bread thrown all over the table?) And Kingdoms Of The Wall by Robert Silverberg which was so interesting and then ended with the moral that since there are no gods, we need to do science. I am now reading God's Battalions by Stark, and next will be King Leopold's Ghost by Hochschild. I hope I can handle the horror of what Belgium did to the people of the Congo.
Last week, Best-beloved and I went to movies two days in a row. We went to see the Prince of Persia because it looked like it would be fun, and it was, with great parkour, special effects, costumes, fighting, explosions etc., and yet I could not make myself care about the beautiful characters and I dozed off near the end. The next day we went to see Babies, a documentary following the birth and lives of four babies, one each in Mongolia, Africa (Namibia?), Tokyo, and San Francisco. It was way too short. The audience joined me in laughing or gasping.
My hairy hairless Chinese Crested/Italian Grayhound is poking me as I type. She's as bad as a two-year-old in wanting attention.
Perhaps because of the constant rain this year, the strawberries in my yard are not the essence of delicious as they are most years. Should I bother to pick them? The weeds I pull and lay on the ground keep re-rooting instead of decomposing and returning to the dirt what they took out as I work to turn my dirt into soil.
Dad's yard is beginning to look spiffy. No one will think the property is abandoned now. It is nearing his wedding anniversary. He said that she wasn't supposed to go first. Yeah, none of us wanted her to go when she did. Mom was kind to everybody. I miss our sending each other interesting articles. Did Dad say Mom has been gone for seven years? That can't be right. And has it been ten years since my husband fell off the roof and crushed his feet and lower leg bones? I remember the events too well for them to have been that long ago.