The Devil Kissed Her: The Story of Mary Lamb. Biography of a manic-depressive children's author who stabbed her mother to death. Can't go wrong with something like that.
The Egyptologist turned out to be pretty cool, even though the "surprise" ending was evident after the first few chapters. It was not ALL I wanted it to be, but still good.
Saturday, January 08, 2005
Friday, January 07, 2005
California Dreamin', continued...
Last night, I dreamed that Kyle drove the van straight through our laundry room and down our neighbor's driveway.
He crashed over the cardboard that our 84 year old British neighbor lady has leaned against the fence to barricade her junk-strewn lawn and gunned the van down into the street.
Then the British lady started screaming out of her porch window, just like she would have in real life (when a tree branch fell on our street last year, Molly screamed "Oh my GOD, someone call 911!!!!!" about 60 times, rather than just shutting up and calling 911 herself. Turns out she wasn't even worried about the crushed car and whether or not anyone was inside it (it was empty), she was merely concerned that the branch was blocking her driveway when she had an "appointment"(trip to Sav-On in her boat)).
But Kyle just keeps driving, ignoring her screams- it was probably the greatest dream of my life.
He crashed over the cardboard that our 84 year old British neighbor lady has leaned against the fence to barricade her junk-strewn lawn and gunned the van down into the street.
Then the British lady started screaming out of her porch window, just like she would have in real life (when a tree branch fell on our street last year, Molly screamed "Oh my GOD, someone call 911!!!!!" about 60 times, rather than just shutting up and calling 911 herself. Turns out she wasn't even worried about the crushed car and whether or not anyone was inside it (it was empty), she was merely concerned that the branch was blocking her driveway when she had an "appointment"(trip to Sav-On in her boat)).
But Kyle just keeps driving, ignoring her screams- it was probably the greatest dream of my life.
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
Home for the Holidays
We stayed home for the Holidays this year. It seems weird to say that- we stayed home. I'm really an adult now, with my own family and home.
For so many years it was- "I went home for the Holidays," or "I'm going home for Christmas" - "home" always being my parent's house.
Now my parents live in a house I've never lived in, and our shabby Westside apartment has become "home."
This year for the first time, I dreamed California rather than Rochelle. It was a terrible dream, by the way, in which Tobler was supposed to be watching Stew, but forgot about him and left him in the car at Sav-On. I freaked out and ran up there and this lady was standing by the car, judging me. I started trying to drive away but she told me she'd already called the cops and DCFS and that I wasn't going anywhere.
It was a bad dream, but the point is: it was HERE in Santa Monica, at OUR Sav-On. My dreams have finally caught up to my life.
I wonder why it takes dreams so long to catch on? Up until this year, the majority of my dreams were set at the split-level ranch on Turkington Terrace where I spent most of my childhood.
But my family left that house the summer I turned fifteen. We were at a different house on 11th Street for my high school graduation, my college years, and Owen's first Christmas in Illinois.
Yet my dreams were stuck on Turkington- a place I haven't lived for over ten years. The weird thing is that when I lived on Turkington, probably 90% of my dreams took place in the little home on 10th Street I'd lived in before THAT.
Is it just that the subconscious takes a long time to adjust to change? Or is it that as the oldest sibling, it is in my nature to be nostalgic, to be constantly looking back to the glory days when I was the center of my parent's attention (as suggested in The Birth Order Book)?
Anyway, we stayed in L.A. this year- had a visit from my parents a few days after Christmas and spent New Year's Eve at the Hannas (our neighbors across the street). Here are some pictures.
For so many years it was- "I went home for the Holidays," or "I'm going home for Christmas" - "home" always being my parent's house.
Now my parents live in a house I've never lived in, and our shabby Westside apartment has become "home."
This year for the first time, I dreamed California rather than Rochelle. It was a terrible dream, by the way, in which Tobler was supposed to be watching Stew, but forgot about him and left him in the car at Sav-On. I freaked out and ran up there and this lady was standing by the car, judging me. I started trying to drive away but she told me she'd already called the cops and DCFS and that I wasn't going anywhere.
It was a bad dream, but the point is: it was HERE in Santa Monica, at OUR Sav-On. My dreams have finally caught up to my life.
I wonder why it takes dreams so long to catch on? Up until this year, the majority of my dreams were set at the split-level ranch on Turkington Terrace where I spent most of my childhood.
But my family left that house the summer I turned fifteen. We were at a different house on 11th Street for my high school graduation, my college years, and Owen's first Christmas in Illinois.
Yet my dreams were stuck on Turkington- a place I haven't lived for over ten years. The weird thing is that when I lived on Turkington, probably 90% of my dreams took place in the little home on 10th Street I'd lived in before THAT.
Is it just that the subconscious takes a long time to adjust to change? Or is it that as the oldest sibling, it is in my nature to be nostalgic, to be constantly looking back to the glory days when I was the center of my parent's attention (as suggested in The Birth Order Book)?
Anyway, we stayed in L.A. this year- had a visit from my parents a few days after Christmas and spent New Year's Eve at the Hannas (our neighbors across the street). Here are some pictures.
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