The Tortoise in Red Hair

Rather than beat my head against the wall in utter frustration, I’ve decided to weather our phone being out of service – downright silent - inexplicably dead – with as much grace as I can muster, and write my post in Word. What I’d really like to do is rip cords from walls and ground phone receivers under my feet, but I know that’ll do no good, no good at all, seeing as I’d just have to buy new ones later. (We’re paid up, so nobody send us money. Thank you anyway, though; you’re so sweet.)

This is probably a perfect test for my resolution, however, if I choose to look at it that way. I had decided this morning, due to something Mal said on his site awhile ago about being a slow reader, and about how Stephen King is a slow reader, that I would follow suit and savor my newest book one sentence at a time, instead of wolfing it down in paragraphs. That I’d be an ocean liner trolling slowly through deep waters, not a jet ski skipping over the surface, and that maybe – as a result – would actually remember something I read for once, and maybe even learn how to write better from its example.

I do everything in such a freaking hurry. I’ve told you that before, and it does serve me well in some areas – whenever I put my mind to something I can get it done in record time – but it’s a horrible way to read a book. Especially one that deserves careful consideration.

Last week I was scurrying through my errands and stopped by the library. As I didn’t have time to wander the aisles and browse slowly through the shelves, and as it never fails that the minute I’m confronted by the myriad and towering stacks I can never remember my favorite authors, I just ran to the New Books section and chose a few that looked likely. I brought them home and blah blah blah & six books later, discovered a treasure.

It’s called The Floating Book by Michelle Lovric. It’s set in Venice, year 1468. It’s captured my imagination. Here’s one sentence I want to share with you; one I adore, and that must be read aloud to be appreciated fully:

The canals smell of billy goat and grass clippings, the ever-present steam of sealouse soup smells of dark sea caves, the babies smell of mouse holes, and the women smell of what they desire.

It’s raining today. I have to go to the bank, but when I get home, I’m going to curl up on the couch and read my new book. Slo-o-wly. kiss you sweets. xo

Happy addendum: The veritable second I finished writing this, I checked again and the phone worked. Calloo callay!