The Assassination of Jesse James with Brad Pitt was horrible. Not as bad as No Country for Old Men, but a huge disappointment.
In the last month or so, I’ve seen three different characters’ homes described as a Craftsman. A what? Is that a house that Sears built? I assume it’s a style, like a New Englander or a Colonial, but I’ve never heard of a Craftsman. I wish I could remember the titles it was used in so I could see if the authors are from a specific region.
Yesterday I promised myself I would read the first couple of pages of First You Run by Roxanne St. Claire, and then I would get to work. Uh, yeah. It was a wicked awesome book, and I wish I hadn’t inhaled it so fast. I know a book is incredible when I can’t put it down even when it has some elements I’m really meh about (Mayan history, and the hero has a soul patch, which I not only don’t find sexy, but actively find as anti-sexy). I will be buying the next two immediately so I can devour them, as well.
My kids go to school tomorrow.
I’ve noticed some authors have such a distinctive and awesome-to-me voice that reading one of their books sends me into a reading slump. Every book I pick up after seems meh and gets put down. After reading JR Ward, Suzanne Brockmann, Kristan Higgins, SEP, or Nora—among others—I’ll go through days of picking up book after book without finding one that holds my interest.
Did I mention my kids go to school tomorrow? I miss them already. The tall kid’s rather blah about it. He doesn’t particularly welcome returning to school, but he’s very bored and it’s better than nothing. The short kid’s very excited, but insists being freshly bathed is irrelevant because he’s hitting the playground first thing anyway.
That’s about all I’ve got.