A quick update, as I once again promise to bring you an illustrated account of the remainder of the Romantic Getaway to the Desert.
As a side note, the other main character of this adventure refuses to allow me to use his real name, or even initials, in this blog. I pointed out that many of the real life people who are regular characters here at Big-Haired Jersey Girl in Oregon are content to appear as their initials. He requested a realistic but fake name. I said no. Could you imagine? Too many people I know in real life would get confused. His family and mine alike, who both read this blog, would think I was cheating on him with some guy named "Brandon."
I think we settled on something goofy like, "Handsome Man."
Anyway, perhaps because I discovered audio books, I've been reading voraciously lately. Not just "reading" audio books, but reading real text, too. BUST magazine was no longer enough; I subscribed to Bitch (after ranting publicly on Facebook about Glamour's concept of Engagement Chicken, which may or may not be a joke.) My pile of library books is becoming so overwhelming I think I need to add a "Library Day" into my anal retentive categorized-days-of-the-week schedule. (Today, Wednesday, if you must know, is Clean the Bathroom Day.)
This weekend, I finished reading Fifth Business by Robertson Davies, and I have been listening, for about a week, to Julie Powell's second book, Cleaving. I wrote a little about Julie Powell after reading her first book, here. I think, as I listen to her second book, which I wasn't sure I'd want to read but am kind of glad I gave a chance, that I will write about her again. In short, I get the impression she is someone people love to hate, and while at times I don't like what I'm reading (hearing) either, I find myself wanting to defend her and her writing. I think people love to hate her for being a real person, not a character, not bouncy and cheerful and easily lovable. I don't think that's really fair. I guess I am fascinated by her honesty, and perhaps by its implications for the popularity of these specific types of memoirs, those written by people who have lived (or, since many are young, are currently living) lives attainable by everyday normal people; similarly, I wonder about its implications for the popularity of life blogs. I guess the question is, "How much reality are people really looking for?"
Lunch break is over, so that's all I will say for now.
Also, it just started hailing.