Running errands in Wellesley today. At Roche Bros. supermarket, I was behind a woman who spent $495.00 on groceries. She mentioned having company and grandkids. Gosh, I hope they eat all those red peppers she bought. That's even more than we spent at Raley's Supermarket in Reno before a trip to Burning Man. This week, all the movers and shakers are at the gun show in Reno. Stuff happens in the damnest places. www.burningman.com
I know one retired dot.com millioniare who travels across the country in a motor home with 4 cats. The mind boggles. I would be so paranoid that the cats would escape (freedom now!) that--well, I don't know what. The mind just boggles. Thisbe heard the dog next door bark on the deck and retreated inside. I'm not sure she knows what a dog is. Annie has been under the weather and hurled on the coffee table. A bulemic cat is a troublesome cat, but we love her. Life without cats is lonely.
The beautiful skinny woman was at Roche Bros again today. Must have traded her Mercedes in for an SUV. Of course, it might have been a Mercedes SUV or a Cadillic or whatever. I noticed the umpteen plastic bags (bad!) going into the trunk. Today she wore a long-sleeved shirt and slacks which made the stringiness less noticeable. Why isn't she on the Cape or the Islands? Inquiring mind want to know.
Significant Other remarked that the Wellesley store has a "better class of women" than some of the far flung less upscale suburbs. Of course he was speaking strictly of their physical appearance, not their kindliness or characters.
I posted a book review on Amazon of the latest Furst novel, The Foreign Correspondent. Yesterday I found a review of The Shadow Warriors which was pretty bad, but the reviewer sounded like she was having a bad time. Talk about generalities. She said good stuff too, but although I wrote the book, I still had no idea what she was talking about. Not a clue. So the criticism was not helpful.
Another rejection today for World of Mirrors. Since this was a non-MWA approved publisher, I didn't cry any rivers. We went for a long walk and I puttered around in the garden. We get a nice big tomato every day, and what could be better than that?
Insalata Capreses again tonight. The basil is stupendous.
Onward,
Grapeshot
Showing posts with label The Foreign Correspondent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Foreign Correspondent. Show all posts
Friday, August 17, 2007
Monday, August 06, 2007
You Can Go Home Again
But it won't be the same. Who the hell are all these old people? What happened? The years roll by. The odd thing is, you put this group back together and pretty soon they all revert to being sixteen again. Sixteen candles.
Denver Art Museum, esp. the new wing by Liebeskind did not disappoint. The locals seemed surprised that it had such a big play in the Eastern Press.
Good Mexican food in Colorado, from Magaritas to well, we never made it to the flan, the main course being so copious, but I know the flan was good.
Denver used to end on the north around Commerce City. Now there are various ugly, gawd, I can't tell you how ugly, subdivisions out in the middle of nowhere--major ticky-tacky. Sucking up all the farmers water. Major interesting sight: the coal trains from Gilette, Wyoming tooling along on the Burlington Northern/Santa Fe tracks heading west. Hugh trains with nothing but coal, 35 per day. Long trains. Get out of the house. Way out of the house. You will see amazing sights.
On the first leg of our flight there was an old man who had sort of lost it. Travelling with his wife who was not up to being his caretaker. After we reached our cruising altitude, as they say, he got up and tried to find the restroom. I kid you not, he was looking to open the aircraft door to go to the john. An alert passenger told the flight attendant. Later, I scrutinized the door and determined that he would not have been able to open, even if he had the strength, which is doubtful. Then he tried to claim S.O.'s suitcase in the aisle. I say when you can't recognize your own suitcase (not even black) maybe it's time to stay home. The Old Folks At Home. Where they belong.
So we saw unexpected sights and ate some amazing food, including lemon pie with (I am not making this up) marshmellow cream instead of meringue as a topping. Well, whatever floats your boat.
In the mail this morning was a "thanks but no thanks" letter from an agent I queried over a year ago. Somehow that "no" is never so painful. Already written off and do you really want an agent who takes a year to get back.
Big exciting idea for new book. I donated a copy of The Shadow Warriors to my old Carnegie Library, where I must have read half their books. Everything from Two Weeks to Guadalcanal Diary. An education to be sure.
I read Furst's The Foreign Correspondent while travelling. Very good. Interesting how he just used the threat of violence to create suspense. Not the usual gory mayhen that one finds in many thrillers.
More, much more, anon.
Grapeshot
Denver Art Museum, esp. the new wing by Liebeskind did not disappoint. The locals seemed surprised that it had such a big play in the Eastern Press.
Good Mexican food in Colorado, from Magaritas to well, we never made it to the flan, the main course being so copious, but I know the flan was good.
Denver used to end on the north around Commerce City. Now there are various ugly, gawd, I can't tell you how ugly, subdivisions out in the middle of nowhere--major ticky-tacky. Sucking up all the farmers water. Major interesting sight: the coal trains from Gilette, Wyoming tooling along on the Burlington Northern/Santa Fe tracks heading west. Hugh trains with nothing but coal, 35 per day. Long trains. Get out of the house. Way out of the house. You will see amazing sights.
On the first leg of our flight there was an old man who had sort of lost it. Travelling with his wife who was not up to being his caretaker. After we reached our cruising altitude, as they say, he got up and tried to find the restroom. I kid you not, he was looking to open the aircraft door to go to the john. An alert passenger told the flight attendant. Later, I scrutinized the door and determined that he would not have been able to open, even if he had the strength, which is doubtful. Then he tried to claim S.O.'s suitcase in the aisle. I say when you can't recognize your own suitcase (not even black) maybe it's time to stay home. The Old Folks At Home. Where they belong.
So we saw unexpected sights and ate some amazing food, including lemon pie with (I am not making this up) marshmellow cream instead of meringue as a topping. Well, whatever floats your boat.
In the mail this morning was a "thanks but no thanks" letter from an agent I queried over a year ago. Somehow that "no" is never so painful. Already written off and do you really want an agent who takes a year to get back.
Big exciting idea for new book. I donated a copy of The Shadow Warriors to my old Carnegie Library, where I must have read half their books. Everything from Two Weeks to Guadalcanal Diary. An education to be sure.
I read Furst's The Foreign Correspondent while travelling. Very good. Interesting how he just used the threat of violence to create suspense. Not the usual gory mayhen that one finds in many thrillers.
More, much more, anon.
Grapeshot
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