Halloween hasn’t even come and gone and I’m skipping that aisle and heading straight for the Christmas stuff: cards, ornaments, lights. I even bought my stamps two weeks ago. I checked out the stash of gifts I’ve already bought and I’m seriously thinking about wrapping them and piling them up in the living room.
I’m not sure what’s gotten into me this year. It could simply be that I’m anticipating taking that week off (since I haven’t had a proper vacation all year) and I’m scheduling my Christmas activities already. Yes, there will be touristy events: Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, holiday windows and St Pat’s cathedral. Maybe I’ll drag a friend to the NY Botanical Gardens to see the toy train show or travel to Longwood Gardens. I’m even tempted to buy tickets to see the Radio City Rockettes! I will spend Christmas Eve with my friend and then Christmas dinner with my family.
I’ve switched to Pandora’s Christmas Classics channel and I cannot wait for my cable’s seasonal music to change from spooky to spiritual. I’m sorry that I didn’t get guitar lessons this year so I could produce my own favorite tunes on demand or share my enthusiasm with friends and family. That will go on the New Year’s resolution list!
I’m not sure why I’m so excited about Christmas this year. I’m just happy right now. Heck, I don’t even think I’d complain if it snowed in November.
I swear there is a trapdoor somewhere in my life. It’s been following me around since I was 7 and I keep losing things in it. First it was a stuffed toy. Then a ring when I was 14. I have no idea where the waffle iron went because I swear I didn’t put it in storage with the rest of my stuff and now my binoculars have gone missing. I remember looking at my neighbor’s Christmas tree. It should be on the bookcase, I swear.
I am sure all of these items, along with an assortment of hats, gloves and scarves, are altogether–in some other plane of existence. I would really like to find that trapdoor.
Not necessarily to retrieve the lost items but to escape.
Soulless (The Parasol Protectorate) by Gail Carriger is an alternate Victorian History, where vampires run the politics, werewolves run the military with a little Steampunk thrown in. I really like Miss Alexia Tarabotti, the protagonist of this fun read. She’s spunky, witty, very resourceful, oh–and soulless. However that doesn’t make her a bad person just different. To make up for this deficiency, she has read many books to develop her ethics. She also has her father’s journals, where she has learned a great deal about being soulless (as he was too) and a variety of other topics, (which shouldn’t be discussed in polite company). Miss Tarabotti is also known as The Cursebreaker because when she touches a supernatural creature, like a vampire or werewolf they become human again. Her family and friends are unaware of her supernatural proclivities. To them she is an intractable unattractive spinster. Her dearest friend, Miss Ivy Hisselpenny, has no sense of style, constantly wears the most outrageous hats and she has the poor taste to fall for a–thespian! The horror! Miss Tarabotti and the resident hunky werewolf Lord Conall Maccon, the Earl of Woolsey are constantly bickering so we can absolutely expect them to fall in love, if they haven’t already. (Do you see shades of Pride and Prejudice here?) I cannot overlook Lord Akeldama, he is an ancient vampire who looks like a young dandy and (gasp) he fancies men.
Ms Carriger does a nice job of explaining the supernatural terminology and the hierarchical structures within the werewolves and vampires. I appreciated not having to search for a glossary.
Out of curiosity, after having read the book, I decided to listen to the audio book. Emily Gray is the reader and she is fantastic. Her interpretations and deftness in creating the characters and setting the pace are wonderful. Honestly–don’t read the book, listen to it and if you have read the book, you will get even more out of listening to it.
I bought a Kindle. After much contemplation and several trips to Target and Best Buy and reading way too many reviews I finally bought the Kindle 3 WiFi version. So what sold me on it and not a Nook or a Kobo or a Sony? Well it came down to a few basic features. I like the size, it’s light and comfortable in my hands. I like the fonts I can choose from. Also, I like the no glare screen. I like the ease of getting books, since I love to shop on Amazon anyway. But for me the thing that tipped the scale were the buttons. I really hate touchscreens. Even though I have these skinny little fingers I always manage to fat finger any entries on a touch screen.
I have a touchscreen on my phone. I hate it. I’m always putting in the wrong characters, the wrong numbers, dialing the wrong people. God forbid I have to enter someone into my contacts list! Since everyone is always trying to improve products, and I’ve had perfectly good products ruined because someone decided it might sell better if it was exactly like its competitor, I decided to buy the Kindle now before some fool decides to make it a “touchscream”, too. One thing that disappoints me: currently I cannot take books out of the library. I understand that Amazon is working with Overdrive so hopefully in a few months that disappointment will be fixed.
A friend was complaining that his wife kept buying day planners and not using them. Immediately I knew what was going on. She was trying to find a way to organize her time. I recognize it because I have all these pretty notebooks and pretty composition books and pretty journals that are mostly empty. The journals are sharing space on the shelf with titles like: Write Brain, Take Ten, The Writer’s Idea Book. The notebooks are everywhere. They are in the den, under my bed, under my desk. Small note taking pads travel around in my car. I even purchased a digital recorder so when the great idea strikes I don’t have to pull off the road and find a pen. I only have to push a button. Truthfully I have pushed the button a few times but those ideas are still stuck on the recorder when they should have been transferred to here.
I tend to talk to myself in the car and sometimes I have the whole essay talked out in my mind but once I walk in the door I’m completely distracted and all those elegant thoughts and clever quips fade away like the dream I had last night. I might remember a little of it but it’s just not the same. This is the reason why I bought the recorder. Now it seems I’ve gone from writer’s block to talker’s block.
So now I’m just going to babble. Stream of consciousness writing. Going to stop the internal editor, except to correct a misspelled word and hope for the best.