Monday, July 8
- Book: The Glass Lake
- Chapters: 5
- Location: Front porch. It is very hot and it’s the shadiest outdoor place. Plus, the squirrels dine out here.
- Smoking: New stuff called Lemon Cherry. It is happy-making
What I’m listening to:
Did I cry?
I did not.
Thoughts while reading (could be about the book, could not):
I feel like a lot has happened, but not a lot of it is exciting to anyone but me?
Mickey and I went to the Cranbrook Museum of Art over the long weekend and it was honestly an A+ experience. We played artist-designed mini-golf (I won), checked out some incredible Cuban furniture, and walked the extensive grounds on property.
Where I got to walk inside of a tree (no, I will never shut up about this).
It was magical, it was amazing and I can’t wait to take every single person who comes to visit.
We also did a bunch of yard stuff lately. My gladiolus are coming up like crazy. So far I have yellow, orange, and a deep purple-y red. I planted over 100 bulbs, so we shall see what other colors pop up.
We have no new updates on Logan, so my brain wants to take that as “no news is good news”, but my brain also reminds me that Logan told us that he has a hard time communicating when he is not doing well. So, it tries to worry.
Brains be doing that, you know.
Now, this brain will be reading.
brb (not birb-related).
Okay, damn. Someone get this book a Hulu Mini-Series, stat. This one is compelling as hell.
Every single chapter is long (I’m savoring, too) and every single one so far has ended on a cliffhanger so wild that I want to keep reading.
Perfect for a mini-series.
So, Kit – the Irish lass with the ‘dead’ mom takes a trip to London where she tries to visit her pen pal – her mom’s old friend Lena. Except Lena is actually her mother.
And the chapter ends when Kit is face-to-face with Lena.
Okay, so here are some things I have been thinking:
One: I have been a lot less emotional while reading/writing lately.
Well, less personal emotion (unless that one song comes on). Any emotion I feel, I feel for the characters and their situation, not because of me working through anything with my life.
And I think that’s because I did a whole lot of work processing things when I was reading earlier this year. I’ve made peace with a lot of things. It feels weird but good.
Two: The first time I read these books, there was no google, so I had to just imagine what “teddy boys” were. Based on Binchy’s descriptions, I thought they were like outlandishly colored hipsters of that time.
This is a Teddy Boy:
I think I was close.
New birds heard:
None, just a dang song sparrow
