I’m reading Phoenix Noir and All the Light We Cannot See. I recently finished Wild and Freedom. I loved Wild. Cheryl Strayed’s Dear Sugar saved my life once. (That’s a story for another day. Thank you Juliann!) Her podcast “Dear Sugars” is also great.
Freedom was a beast, and I’m glad I read it. I’m more interested in Franzen’s new book Purity than I thought I would be. His books are a commitment. The character development is so thoughtful, but the lack of dialog can make the story slower than it should be at points. That said, I think he is the best author of our time to capture middle class America living and somehow make it interesting.
Side note: I stood in front of the “new in paperback” section at Target this week and drooled. I have a cornucopia of books to read; I’m making a sincere effort to read what I have and pass them on. But oh, the bright and shiny happiness of the new $12 paperbacks that I could inhale in 2 days is delirious. Instead, I’m fighting the urge to buy new when that same delirious feeling came over me every time I bought the 400 or so books collecting dust in our office.
I’m back to hot yoga. I’ve been taking 4-5 classes a week for the last few, and have joined the little studio in our neighborhood. The timing of their morning classes works out great; I can get a butt-busting workout in before work and make it to my desk with a hot cup of coffee by 8 am. All this exercise and the waning summer heat has me looking at my wardrobe with disgust. I’m tired of the same look, the same things, and the same soccer-mom Gap sense of style. I want to dress more like this and less like this. I’m in a rut.
I need to mix it up. I’m just not sure where to start. Conceptually, I like the idea of these for fall, but I’m pretty sure I’m not going from cotton capris to leather leggings and tennis shoes. There has to be a more gentle move toward being on fleek, right?
Louise. On fleek. Am I even using that right?