Yes, it’s my birthday. And a friend is taking me for coffee, so there will be no earth-shattering prose written this morning. (I can hear what you’re thinking about other mornings, and the rather consistent lack of earth-shattering prose. I would thank you to keep those thoughts to yourself. Did I mention it was my birthday?)
I spent the weekend visiting Grandma in Edmonton. (That would be my 86-year-old Grandma, who was husking, blanching, and freezing five dozen cobs of corn. I hope I have her genes.) Edmonton is flat. Disturbingly flat. Whenever I’m in Alberta, I start to worry that my body’s dissipating into the atmosphere. Perhaps it’s this dissipation which leads to such amazing sunsets, even in the suburban wastelands:
While I was there, my mom and sister pitched in to get me a birthday Kindle cover with a built-in book light (which runs off the Kindle battery). It’s completed my Kindle conversion. I can now hold the machine as if it’s a book, and I can read in bed, in the dark, in a hotel room, with my children asleep nearby, which is what I spend my weekend evenings doing.
First, I read Bury Me Deep by Megan Abbott, a spine-tingling quasi-mystery suggested by Deryn Collier. It’s inspired by a true story (I always love that) and written in a truly unique style. I can’t even describe it, but I can highly recommend it.
Then I moved on to Mockingjay, the third (and best, in my opinion) of the Hunger Games trilogy. I’m sure I’m the last in the world to have read this book. It was well worth the wait.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to have a birthday latté and wonder what other surprises are in store for me today…