Shaky Egg

Randomly:

I am off for two work days on the road and then healing school Friday night and Saturday morning. I have so much I want to write, namely a long one on the nature of friendship in general and the loss (through fighting and falling out) of one’s closest friend.  It, that is, writing about it, will have to wait. It has waited a year, it can wait several more weeks or even another year.

Thank goodness Gymboree has nothing I want in terms of Halloween costumes, so I don’t have to spend a hundred bucks on that, at least.

Since our dustup last week, my husband has been really working to pull his weight in terms of dishes, cooking, household labor. I *think* he even cleaned a toilet for, like, the second time ever since we moved here.

Is he okay with that? Or is he doing it to spite me or worse to avoid what he perceives as my nagging and my view of ‘deficiencies in his character’?  I’ve also been thinking a lot about the nature of intimacy, honesty, and accountability in intimate relationships. I’d like to write about that, too, in general terms of course, not in terms that would violate our privacy too much, but in my head, my worries and what I view as my shortcomings or my tasks as I grow into myself.

I read Deborah Wiles’ Each Little Bird that Sings last night. She notes in her foreword that she wrote this book after enduring way too many losses in her family in a way too short amount of time, so I don’t think I’m giving anything away by saying that I snuffled and bawled and squalled as the book came to its close.

The book has won many awards, and I guess, rightfully so. In my lowly opinion, especially lowly since I’ve never even written a book, children’s or otherwise, it’s not exactly great literature… and I am not one of those who thinks children’s literature should be held to a different standard than adult literature. Great writing is great writing, and I hate for it to be dumbed down. On the other hand, I absolutely love Wiles’ evocation of quirky southern life– yes, southern life can indeed be that quirky, even if the quirks are not layered on quite that thick in real life.  And I do think it’s a wonderful book about handling grief. Sort of. If you’re really in the mood to handle grief, and Lord, who is???? I know, I know… it’s a reality, but… Anyhoo, the author does a wonderful job of creating a heartbreaking but still manageable (just barely) growth opportunity for little Comfort Snowberger, whose narrative voice is really too cute.

I’d love to hear what others think about this one. I am so impressed with Wiles. She’s won all these prizes, and I don’t think she started writing, or at least getting published, until she was in her forties. As always when I hear of such a thing, I think, hallelujah! There’s hope!

All right, dear reader (My friend M is the only one reading this, right? and maybe her husband???). I must jump up and get ready to hit the road.  Talk to you soon.