Worst. Ending. Ever.
And on the fourth day of the job search, lo... there was little to talk about.
Not much going on here. Ian steadily moves forward with art tests, working away [leading from a few Friends Only posts made recently]. We debate the relative merits of one company and its location versus another (virtually all sight unseen). Ian has broached the subject of what happens if he decides to take the job with the one local company, and we stay in Austin? He made a case for how much he likes this house we're renting, and what if we bought it? As I just now mentioned to one of you out there in another forum, we women have near infinite capacity to become emotionally attached to things that haven't happened yet; I'm just a hopeful hobbit in search of a dream. So now I'm dreaming of installing handles and drawer pulls on 84,000 places in this house, and how I'd plant the garden in the backyard, and what color I'd repaint our currently burgundy half-bath downstairs. It's somethin' to do, anyway. As soon as we get the idea to live somewhere else on the list, I'll dream of it instead. There's always something fun and happy to dream about!
Have returned to playing Sims 3 a lot lately. With Ian busy on his artwork, and me not really feeling inspired toward my full household hobbittyness since I feel like WE COULD HAVE TO START PACKING ANY MINUTE*, I guess I'm in a mood to turn off my brain. Video games are like that for me in general; they're the ultimate in mental relaxation for me. The Sims doubly so! I like just seeing their little lives go through the paces. They can have a spotless house, anyway! Ah, little Sims, you amuse me.
I finished reading Philippa Gregory's Virgin Earth, and I must say that book has quite possibly the worst ending I've ever read -- even lower in my estimation than Hannibal, which previously held this dubious distinction in my mind. The plot of the ending was disappointing to me in defense of the characters; it seemed like it really cheated them! I get defensive that way, and I'm mad at the author for the choice she made. On the other hand, just in terms of writing, the ending struck me as rather abrupt and again like a cheater's way out. The book was a sequel; altogether, I'd spent 1200 pages reading about three generations of one family. Then BOOM! All in the span of 3 pages, it takes a left turn at Albuquerque, and then ends in what seemed mid-conversation, nearly mid-paragraph. I actively searched the end of the book physically to make sure that my library copy wasn't missing pages. Alas, it's not. The ending is just that shallow and abrupt. Boo! Boo! Shame on you, Ms. Gregory! So that was a disappointment.
I've now started reading one from another female author of historical fictions whom I like -- this one with a flair for a little supernatural thrown in: Judith Merkle Riley's Visions of Light. Only a few pages into it, but I can see her usual quirky wit at play, and I like what I've read so far.
Til later, then,
Trace
* Not accurate.
Not much going on here. Ian steadily moves forward with art tests, working away [leading from a few Friends Only posts made recently]. We debate the relative merits of one company and its location versus another (virtually all sight unseen). Ian has broached the subject of what happens if he decides to take the job with the one local company, and we stay in Austin? He made a case for how much he likes this house we're renting, and what if we bought it? As I just now mentioned to one of you out there in another forum, we women have near infinite capacity to become emotionally attached to things that haven't happened yet; I'm just a hopeful hobbit in search of a dream. So now I'm dreaming of installing handles and drawer pulls on 84,000 places in this house, and how I'd plant the garden in the backyard, and what color I'd repaint our currently burgundy half-bath downstairs. It's somethin' to do, anyway. As soon as we get the idea to live somewhere else on the list, I'll dream of it instead. There's always something fun and happy to dream about!
Have returned to playing Sims 3 a lot lately. With Ian busy on his artwork, and me not really feeling inspired toward my full household hobbittyness since I feel like WE COULD HAVE TO START PACKING ANY MINUTE*, I guess I'm in a mood to turn off my brain. Video games are like that for me in general; they're the ultimate in mental relaxation for me. The Sims doubly so! I like just seeing their little lives go through the paces. They can have a spotless house, anyway! Ah, little Sims, you amuse me.
I finished reading Philippa Gregory's Virgin Earth, and I must say that book has quite possibly the worst ending I've ever read -- even lower in my estimation than Hannibal, which previously held this dubious distinction in my mind. The plot of the ending was disappointing to me in defense of the characters; it seemed like it really cheated them! I get defensive that way, and I'm mad at the author for the choice she made. On the other hand, just in terms of writing, the ending struck me as rather abrupt and again like a cheater's way out. The book was a sequel; altogether, I'd spent 1200 pages reading about three generations of one family. Then BOOM! All in the span of 3 pages, it takes a left turn at Albuquerque, and then ends in what seemed mid-conversation, nearly mid-paragraph. I actively searched the end of the book physically to make sure that my library copy wasn't missing pages. Alas, it's not. The ending is just that shallow and abrupt. Boo! Boo! Shame on you, Ms. Gregory! So that was a disappointment.
I've now started reading one from another female author of historical fictions whom I like -- this one with a flair for a little supernatural thrown in: Judith Merkle Riley's Visions of Light. Only a few pages into it, but I can see her usual quirky wit at play, and I like what I've read so far.
Til later, then,
Trace
* Not accurate.