Bibliomama

I just finished The King's Last Song by Geoff Ryman , which I read while in the throes of a head-poundingly miserable virus. This left me in awe not only of Ryman's breathtaking talent but my own ability, even when reading about centuries of war and almost unimaginable human suffering, to maintain a really impressive level of self-pity. I mean, sure, millions of Cambodian people lack the basic necessities of life and have lost family members and the situation is horrifying, but I feel like I have spikes being driven into my ears, I've pulled every muscle in my torso coughing, and I am a dictionary, nay, a veritable encyclopedia of snot. It's all about my pain, people. I've only ever written (e-mailed) three fan letters, and they've all been to fantasy writers. My husband says he always wants to meet people he admires, because he has this fantasy that he'll be able to come up with something witty and brilliant to say that will impress them and make him m...

So my husband brought me this form that I have to sign in order to register Eve for hockey. Yes, the man I married has decreed that the child who ranks skating as an activity slightly less enjoyable than bleeding from the eyes, will be playing hockey in the fall. The first item in a list of parental good conduct rules states "I will not force my child to participate in hockey". ??????????????????? Obviously I thought he was asking me to sign it because he couldn't. But there was his signature, in all its treacherous glory. There you have it. My spouse, he of the flaming trousers of the Liar Liar variety, has committed fraud on official paperwork. Is that the pounding of truncheons on the door?

I have low self-esteem. There's no really good reason for it. I had great parents and a perfectly fine childhood (apart from the low self-esteem thing). Nothing deep and dark and traumatic has happened to me. I haven't spent years with anybody telling me I'm ugly and worthless and unlovable (nobody apart from me, anyway). So I have no good excuse for my low self-esteem, which naturally only makes me feel worse about it. One of the blessings of getting older is that I understand more about myself. One of the frustrations of getting older is that I understand many things about myself without seeming to be able to actually change them a whole lot. Intellectually I know that I'm intelligent and friendly and average-looking. I know that when I go out in public and I feel so ugly that I have trouble meeting anyone's eyes, that's my own personal weirdness, not objective reality. It took me years to start blogging, even when I knew I would really like it, because I co...

Angus and Eve just got home from baseball sort-outs. They don't have to try out, because everyone who wants to play gets to play, but they put them through some throwing and hitting trials just to make sure the teams are 'balanced'. As you may remember, Matt decided Eve should take skating lessons this winter, which was a constant source of grief and vituperation. Being the well-organized family we are, we didn't actually realize the last skating lesson was the last skating lesson until it was over. When we told her there was no more skating this year there was much rejoicing. Then Matt told her next year she'd be... playing hockey. She said "that sort of spoils my perfection". Then she said "how can I play hockey? I'm the slowest skater in the whole place! Even the kids who fall down pass me!" This is because the kids who fall down, fall down because they lift up their feet and glide, rather than taking a thousand precise, miniscule steps th...