I read a lot. Usually multiple books (because I'm always setting the damned things down and losing them) and with no clear distinction on what I will read and what I won't.
Lately, my library runs have been short-and-to-the-point, since R doesn't seem to remember the 'inside voice' rule for more than five minutes, but someday soon I hope to get to pick books leisurely, instead of judging them by their covers and stuffing them in my book bag.
My latest two are a very well-written book on exotic species in America (did you know that in San Fran 99% of flora and fauna are non-native?) (And that doesn't count the people!) and a tattered copy of 'Good Morning, Merry Sunshine' which recounts a baby's first year through the eyes of her father. I'd recommend the first. Merry S is a bit - well, I think the author lost the joy in the project about half-way through.
But I digress.
No matter how fascinating I think 'Tinkering With Eden' is, no matter how drawn in I am, shouldn't I still be able to hear
- the scrape as the kitchen chairs are dragged over to the fridge
- the plotting and whispering
- the snorkles of glee as the cookie plate is lifted down
- and...the sound of the (now empty) plate breaking??
Clearly, I need to restrict my reading. The first I knew of any goings-on was when R tugged on my sleeve and wanted the dustpan.
Or maybe I just need to pen the children.
Anyone know if they would be considered native or exotics?