Memorial Whatever

As a loner stuck in LA, I rarely spend holiday weekends out and about. For me they are endless hours of sloth hidden from view.  Good, bad or indifferent, the time is mine to spend how I please.  TV marathons are often enjoyed, along with good reads, sinful calories and the pleasure of napping.  What's not to like?

I Was 9

when the disappointment of life literally shattered at my feet. I was fascinated by such things as dinosaur fossils, Northern Lights and The Painted Desert at that age.  Once, when my grandmother visited, she'd brought me a small paper weight filled with the colored sands of the Painted Desert. I loved that paper weight and proudly placed it in the inkwell of my school desk for all my classmates to admire. (Dang, makes me sound ancient but we still had wooden desks in 3rd grade.) Loved admiring the muted colored sand layers. It was a treasure. For reasons I can't recall the paperweight toppled to the floor one day and shattered. The heart break wasn't in the breakage, the heart break was discovering it had all been a lie. The glass had been painted from the interior to give the illusion of layers of colored sands. The weight contained plain old beach sand.  To this day I recall the hurt. The disappointment. It was all a bold face lie.  The shock never went away. Skepticism took hold. 

Hi Ho

January huh?!? Last time I've posted. Wish I could say I've been extremely busy but the sad reality is that I've been extremely lazy. Why lie?  That, and not anything of note to comment on. Have been reading a lot which has been enjoyable. Some great reads and some major disappointments. The highly touted The Goldfinch falling into that category. Started off great but mid story line it all fell apart for me. Devil in the White City and The Museum Of Extraordinary Things, kept my interest through out. Reading a murder mystery set in Dublin now, In the Woods by Tana French. So, time for me to pour a second cup of coffee, and turn some pages. It's early, it's quiet, it's time.