100 Years of Solitude
I'm embarrassed to admit this in public, but I just couldn't get into this book, at all. I struggled through 60 pages and was still not enjoying it, or appreciating it, so I put it away. So many people just love this book -- what is it I don't see? Whatever it is, I think it's the chaos that bothers me. "Everybody" loved A Confederacy of Dunces too, but the point of that book also escaped me, as did the humor. I'm much more of a Calvin and Hobbes person, or P.G. Wodehouse.
In other news, I've been locked up in the house all week because the smoke levels from the American River Complex and the Butte Complex have had the air quality in the Unhealthy For Every Living Thing category. It's been a long gruesome week. I've got cabin fever and am antsy because I haven't been able to walk or do water aerobics. The cat's antsy because she doesn't like to stay inside 24/7. The delta breezes came in this morning: the wind chimes are mummering to themselves on the patio, the sky is almost blue, and the sun is white-hot yellow and it hurts to look at it. (It's been a sullen red in the late afternoons, and a bruised orange ball with a dirty corona in the mornings -- you could look at it as long as you wanted with impunity.)
So I'm off to run long overdue, much needed errands, including the final errand for Maya's Granny. With much sadness in my heart and an empty spot where she was in my life for the past 50 years. Life does go on, but still it's hard to let go of that vision of our mutual future.
In other news, I've been locked up in the house all week because the smoke levels from the American River Complex and the Butte Complex have had the air quality in the Unhealthy For Every Living Thing category. It's been a long gruesome week. I've got cabin fever and am antsy because I haven't been able to walk or do water aerobics. The cat's antsy because she doesn't like to stay inside 24/7. The delta breezes came in this morning: the wind chimes are mummering to themselves on the patio, the sky is almost blue, and the sun is white-hot yellow and it hurts to look at it. (It's been a sullen red in the late afternoons, and a bruised orange ball with a dirty corona in the mornings -- you could look at it as long as you wanted with impunity.)
So I'm off to run long overdue, much needed errands, including the final errand for Maya's Granny. With much sadness in my heart and an empty spot where she was in my life for the past 50 years. Life does go on, but still it's hard to let go of that vision of our mutual future.
Labels: books, fire, Maya's Granny
posted by Kate at 9:31 AM
2 Comments:
So nice to see you. Oh hurrah. I'd lost the link to your blog. See, if you left notes more often, I wouldn't lose you.
So glad the smoke is lessening. For days here at sunset, everything was orange from the smoke in the air. Yesterday was better. I understand Ausie and NZ firefighters are on their way to help also.
I also couldn't get into that book. We can be dolts together.
One of my bloggy friends comforted me about my mom saying that the hole in your heart doesn't heal, but, well, I'll just quote her here:
"...the hole is always there, but the edges around it heal and become less raw. In a way, I find that comforting, because even though the hole represents the loss of our loved ones, its enduring presence gives testimony to how much those people meant to us. They meant so much that their absence from our lives now will never go unnoticed. It won’t hurt as much, but we will always love and miss them. I don’t think I’d want it any other way."
Well said, huh?
Thank you again, Kate, for being such a good friend to my mom, and such a good Auntie to me.
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