The News, Promptly

Aaaaaaa! Gratuitous photo of The Newbie, sent to me by her mama.

Well, let's see, here's some news:

My mother got two new dogs, little ones, about five weeks old and a couple of pounds each. She named them Dolly and Lulu. Yes, I expected those names; her other dogs were named Booboo and Yogi. (Poor Yogi died recently.) In fact, I'm surprised that my brothers and I don't have Frank Zappa-children-quality names like Moon Unit, Dweezil, and Diva. I'd love to be named Moon Unit, by the way. (Of course I say this as someone whose most recent crop of cats included Groucho, Binky, and Doppelganger.)

My niece just got the highest grade in her class on her practice chemistry exam. She thinks she might've missed two questions on the actual exam (which she took today), but we won't know until next week how she did. She also has her first cumulative final exam in chemistry next Wednesday. She called me today after her test to update me and to say, "I'm really nervous about my final, auntie." So we're getting together on Saturday morning to review.

Oh, and so it looks like I won't be adopting a baby goat. The Brain really really really really wants one and has given me a list of pros and cons about the matter, weighted heavily toward the pro-side, of course. (The only con is that goats need a yard or something.) Anyway, so there isn't a baby goat on the way, but Kelly First says there's going to be a baby roadrunner soon. She found a nest in her backyard and so long as Lewie doesn't also find it, there should be a baby coming. (Thank goodness Lewie's "PIGEON! PIGEON, LEWIE, PIGEON!!" training was a bust, no?)

Prompt

Here's some more writing prompt-ed writing:

List five books that you've read this year.

(I've expanded this prompt to include books that I'm currently reading, too.)

I'm in the middle of a Shirley Jackson book, Come Along With Me, which is a collection that consists of the beginning of a novel and a slew of short stories. Her husband, a literary critic, edited and published the small volume after she died.

I'm also in the middle of re-reading Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude. It's one of my favorite books and I try to read it every few years. I unearthed it from the dreaded storage unit a few days ago and have been dipping into it a few times a day.

I don't know if this next one counts as something that I'm currently reading, because though I am reading it, it's not really...well, let me just tell you what it is and you can be the judge. Recently, helping my niece with her chemistry made me want to revisit organic chemistry. I took o-chem in college and didn't like it very much. I did fine in the class, but I just never warmed to the subject. Since I always like to figure out why I don't like something that I don't like, I am going back and working my way through my organic chemistry text, Organic Chemistry by John McMurry, Roy David Gustafson, Peter D. Frisk. Yes, I am actually reading the text and doing the homework. Yes, I am actually insane.

Those are my current reads.

As far as two other books I've read this year, I'll definitely have to include Twilight, the sad, weird, pro-vampire not-quite-a-novel novel that was penned by that talentless hack and sold to Hollywood to be turned into pre-teen cinematic fodder. I read it because my niece loved loved loved it. After I read it, Dave asked me what I thought about it, and my response was: Do you remember in George Orwell's 1984, how Julia's job is repairing the machines that write novels for the proles? Well, I was always fascinated by the idea of novels written by machines--but I never thought I'd have to read one of those novels. Then along came Twilight and--yay!--I got to read a novel that was penned by someone (or perhaps something) who has no real understanding about human beings and their pesky human emotions.

Yes, yes, I know Twilight is fare for pre-teens and teenagers, and, yes, I read a veritable shit ton of equally badly written crap when I was a pre-teen and a teenager, but honestly? This novel was baaaaad. It was bad in a way that made me think of that book review by Dorothy Parker in which she remarked: "This novel is not to be tossed lightly aside, but to be hurled with great force."

(Ah, ha-ha! When I googled for the original quote, I found this Parker gem: "If you want to know what god thinks of money, just look at the people he gave it to."

Brilliant. I love Dorothy Parker.)

The other book I read recently was a book of Frida Kahlo's collected letters called Frida by Frida. Talk about heartbreaking. When she wasn't begging her friends and acquaintances to lend her money, she was begging her lovers to come back to her, or cursing at her husband for cheating on her with every woman he could lay his hands on, including her own sister. Poor Frida. So that was a heartbreaking read.