Currently 9.30

I have no idea what to say here anymore. I haven't known for a while hence the lack of posts. I want to write though. I'd like to build something I can be proud of. No, that's not it. I miss this. I'm torn between laying it to rest and walking away or...starting again. Maybe.

Anyway, I'm currently pushing my way through a load of Minifolk projects...in hopes of tackling an even larger project. I'm a few days away from my second trip of the year and second trip to Arizona. I've missed the desert so much. I'm rewatching Frasier on Netflix for the...(mumbles)-th time. I've finished the 5th season of Longmire and...I think I'm over that show. Maybe that's something I can write about in another post.

I'm going to figure this out...this blogging/writing thing. It'll take some time and experimenting and...it'll be a journey. I'm not good at journeys.


Uh oh

My laptop is having issues.


Sinking In

I recently read a book that I didn't much like. I do this often (perhaps more often than I should). Such is the risk I run give that I choose many of books I read at random (see my old By Its Cover reviews). So I feel that finishing is what I owe the author. It's also a kind of punishment myself- should the pick turn out sour- for not having a better plan for attacking the library stacks.

My reading criteria for completion:

  • If I get past halfway, I usually finish the book.
  • If I have an outlandish goal set on Goodreads (it's 75 this year, I'm almost halfway done) and whether I'm behind schedule or not... I usually finish the book.
  • If I've added the book to my Goodreads' currently reading shelf, I usually finish the book.
  • If someone recommended the book to me, I usually finish the book (though if it's part of a series I may not continue with the series).
The writing has to be really poor, the characters completely unlikeable (fiction) and the story completely uninteresting (both fiction and non-) for me to quit. Or I have to be against the library limit on renewals.

The main character in The Body Artist by Don DeLillo is a sort of yogi/contortionist performance artist. Between DeLillo's disjointed writing style and the oddness of the story (there's a suicide, a random elf man, poor conversation), I didn't connect with the book. But I find myself thinking about the artist character. Maybe it's more thinking a little like her. I find myself stretching more and thinking inwardly. I couldn't attempt the poses she did (or imagined she did). But I can move and feel and see and I'm reminded what an amazing thing a body is.

I didn't like the book. But it has had an effect, left ripples, echoes. I like when a book, movie, piece of art, does that.




I finished the ornaments mentioned in the previous post. I got them boxed and shipped. Feels so good to be working on projects like this.