from current read: "50 harbor st," by macomber
He didn't generally reveal his emotions; he was the kind of the man who showed his love through the things he did, not the things he said. p82
Friday, May 23, 2008
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
ahh, decided to postpone reading the following two books - too much going on at work etc and wanted escapism for a bit instead of self-help:
Ordinary miracles, by Rebekah Montgomery, c. 2000 -- wcl --231.73 mon
The hidden gifts of the introverted child, by Marti Olsen Laney, c. 2007 -- lcl -- 155.418 lan
and .. tried
The colour of magic, by Terry Pratchett, c. 1983 --teen PCL - d borrowed it for ACL -- but couldn't get into this at all
so these are my next few books ...
australian womens weekly. april 2008
Switchcraft, by Lowri Turner, c. 2004 bc 5933182
The daydreamer, by Ian McEwan, c. 1994 wcl
Kept by the tycoon, by Lee Wilkinson, c. 2006 -- harl -- wcl
Paging Aphrodite, by Kim Green, c. 2008 wcl
50 Harbor St, by Debbie Macomber, c. 2005 wcl
Ordinary miracles, by Rebekah Montgomery, c. 2000 -- wcl --231.73 mon
The hidden gifts of the introverted child, by Marti Olsen Laney, c. 2007 -- lcl -- 155.418 lan
and .. tried
The colour of magic, by Terry Pratchett, c. 1983 --teen PCL - d borrowed it for ACL -- but couldn't get into this at all
so these are my next few books ...
australian womens weekly. april 2008
Switchcraft, by Lowri Turner, c. 2004 bc 5933182
The daydreamer, by Ian McEwan, c. 1994 wcl
Kept by the tycoon, by Lee Wilkinson, c. 2006 -- harl -- wcl
Paging Aphrodite, by Kim Green, c. 2008 wcl
50 Harbor St, by Debbie Macomber, c. 2005 wcl
Saturday, May 10, 2008
“less than a week, and I’ve lost count of how many pairs of pyjamas you’ve got.”
She shrugged. “Do you know how many pens you’ve got?”
“Two thousand three hundred and fifty-nine.”
Her jaw dropped and then closed with a click. “You’re joking.”
He put a hand over his heart. “I never joke about inventory. But in the interest of full disclosure, I have to admit that there are more than that. Maybe a couple dozen. Link has got tucked away someplace. The extra specials, he calls them.”
in the circle of light Julia’s hands are foreign, mechanical contraptions covered with skin, with a life and purpose of their own. The needle flashes and pierces the linen stretched taut in the circular frame, and the thread follows it.
There is comfort in this work. It is orderly, and small enough to be contained; she will know when she is finished. Her needle makes its way, tracing the ghost of the original stitches, each as clear and clean as a footprint in the snow.
netsuke
Julia talked. She told him about the weather in a city halfway across the country, the quality of the particular kind of cold that comes off Lake Michigan, the way the city seems to glow on a sunny winter day, so mercilessly bright that people go out in N-3B parkas and sunglasses, like high-mountain hikers. The plain hard work of getting dressed to walk a block to the el stop or the grocery store when the windchill hit twenty below. How layers of clothes suddenly felt like the thinnest silk when a wind came shooting directly off the lake. Julia talked about Chicago in the winter and her face was alive with memories.
The stream of talk began to shift very slightly, a story about trying to navigate an icy sidewalk with arms full of shopping bags; how quickly a clear bright January afternoon could metamorphose into something very different.
“but everybody gets the blues now and then,” said Beate.
it was easy to lose track of time when the shop was busy. something Julia liked best about being on the floor. People came in emptyhanded and went out with a shopping bag or two to make room for the next customers. Except today it didn’t work that way. Today her customers didn’t leave, they just lined up along the windows to watch Halloween unfolding.
“you’ve got to choose,” Mayme said. “You can go over to your aunt Paulene’s and eat her dry turkey and green Jell-O mold with the peas and carrots, or you can come have your dinner with Nils and me at Tindell’s.”
If she wasn’t so mad at her sister, Mayme might have found something comic about her daughter’s expression. Bean loved eating out and she especially loved eating at Annabeth Tindell’s place. But it was no small matter, being turned away from the family dinner table because your mama was dating a white man with a funny accent who wasn’t even a proper Southern Baptist.
The Pyjama Girls of Lambert Square by Sara Donati, c. 2008
She shrugged. “Do you know how many pens you’ve got?”
“Two thousand three hundred and fifty-nine.”
Her jaw dropped and then closed with a click. “You’re joking.”
He put a hand over his heart. “I never joke about inventory. But in the interest of full disclosure, I have to admit that there are more than that. Maybe a couple dozen. Link has got tucked away someplace. The extra specials, he calls them.”
in the circle of light Julia’s hands are foreign, mechanical contraptions covered with skin, with a life and purpose of their own. The needle flashes and pierces the linen stretched taut in the circular frame, and the thread follows it.
There is comfort in this work. It is orderly, and small enough to be contained; she will know when she is finished. Her needle makes its way, tracing the ghost of the original stitches, each as clear and clean as a footprint in the snow.
netsuke
Julia talked. She told him about the weather in a city halfway across the country, the quality of the particular kind of cold that comes off Lake Michigan, the way the city seems to glow on a sunny winter day, so mercilessly bright that people go out in N-3B parkas and sunglasses, like high-mountain hikers. The plain hard work of getting dressed to walk a block to the el stop or the grocery store when the windchill hit twenty below. How layers of clothes suddenly felt like the thinnest silk when a wind came shooting directly off the lake. Julia talked about Chicago in the winter and her face was alive with memories.
The stream of talk began to shift very slightly, a story about trying to navigate an icy sidewalk with arms full of shopping bags; how quickly a clear bright January afternoon could metamorphose into something very different.
“but everybody gets the blues now and then,” said Beate.
it was easy to lose track of time when the shop was busy. something Julia liked best about being on the floor. People came in emptyhanded and went out with a shopping bag or two to make room for the next customers. Except today it didn’t work that way. Today her customers didn’t leave, they just lined up along the windows to watch Halloween unfolding.
“you’ve got to choose,” Mayme said. “You can go over to your aunt Paulene’s and eat her dry turkey and green Jell-O mold with the peas and carrots, or you can come have your dinner with Nils and me at Tindell’s.”
If she wasn’t so mad at her sister, Mayme might have found something comic about her daughter’s expression. Bean loved eating out and she especially loved eating at Annabeth Tindell’s place. But it was no small matter, being turned away from the family dinner table because your mama was dating a white man with a funny accent who wasn’t even a proper Southern Baptist.
The Pyjama Girls of Lambert Square by Sara Donati, c. 2008
Friday, May 09, 2008
Next on the pile ...
Oh forgot to add the "The Pyjama Girls of Lambert Square," by Sara Donati, c. 2008 - squeezed it in -- wcl -- new book
The glass heart, by Sally Gardner, c. 2001 -- wcl -- red graphic
Ordinary miracles, by Rebekah Montgomery, c. 2000 -- wcl --231.73 mon
The hidden gifts of the introverted child, by Marti Olsen Laney, c. 2007 -- lcl -- 155.418 lan
The colour of magic, by Terry Pratchett, c. 1983 --teen PCL - d borrowed it for ACL
Oh forgot to add the "The Pyjama Girls of Lambert Square," by Sara Donati, c. 2008 - squeezed it in -- wcl -- new book
The glass heart, by Sally Gardner, c. 2001 -- wcl -- red graphic
Ordinary miracles, by Rebekah Montgomery, c. 2000 -- wcl --231.73 mon
The hidden gifts of the introverted child, by Marti Olsen Laney, c. 2007 -- lcl -- 155.418 lan
The colour of magic, by Terry Pratchett, c. 1983 --teen PCL - d borrowed it for ACL
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)