*cough* UGH

i am unwell. I have a cold, and I am weak as a kitten.

But I’m at work. I’m bored with being home.

I don’t have that much to say, but I know i’ve neglected my readers a lot lately.

Not only was I sick this week, but I was low on interesting books. I’m in the middle of Brothers Karamazov, Vanity Fair, and The Saga of the Vatnsdal people.

All of which are pretty weighty. The saga is actually the lightest reading, which is why I took it up, even though I was in the middle of the two others.

The Vatnsdal people are actually some founders of iceland, and the saga is part of a kick-butt book called Sagas of the Icelanders.

I read Egil’s Saga and became a convert. What a guy!

So, there were several more sagas in the book I hadn’t gotten to yet.

Someday, I really will go there, Iceland impresses me. A major part of my identity is being a stubborn, get-out-of-my-way-and-don’t-tell-me-what-to-do pale-skinned Northerner.

Which is exactly what these Icelandic peopple are! So I dig their stories. Chris, that love of my life and fellow adventurer, bought me the book. I might not have bought it for myself, but the rightness of the gift shows that sometimes he knows me better than I know myself.

But the Vatnsdal people are not quite as cool as Egil was. They seem more like local heroes than cosmic ones…Which is still okay, but…Not the exact right spot I was hoping to hit with my reading this weekend.

The reason I started to read Brothers Karamazov was because of my love of Russian Novels. One of the great things about them is they take so long to read. It’s like living an entire life in a novel.

But they also have a great effect of helping you sleep. You read a couple pages, and bam, you’re asleep.

HIGHLY recommended for insomniacs. If you read carefully, you can enter into the Moscovsky countryside and forget all the problems of the 21st century that keep you awake.

Anyway, I was going on trips that required me to conquer time zones and still get a good night’s sleep. Dostoevsky helped with that.

And Vanity Fair…Well…They were starting to annoy me…Selfish greedy judgemental victorians.

I will get back to finishing Thackeray, but…Well…We needs some sensationalism, like the Brontes or Dickens…Can’t he drum up a ghost or a spontaneous combustion or an excaped prisoner to move the story along?

I’ve misplaced the story I wanted to read…The Autobiography of my Mother by Jamaica Kinkaid. That one looks good. Light enough but interesting.

Anyway, I ended up renting movies. I wanted to see Finding Nemo or Ice Age or some cartoon I hadn’t seen yet.

Chris was NOT feeling like a cartoon. He got Matrix Revolutions, which actually seemed like a good one. I got Nemo and Johnny English.

Love Rowan Atkinson.

Turned out the Matrix was the best of the lot. Even though I was hard put to stay away through the battle scenes…It was a lot for my sick senses to take in. It took itself too seriously, but at least it was entertaining. I was glad to see Trinity die, because I never believed that they loved each other that much anyway. But it was engaging.

Finding Nemo was such a disappointment. I have no idea why everyone was raving about it! Okay, maybe if your daddy left you, you would find it irresistably charming that a fish daddy worked so hard to find his son.

But there was no bad guy! The only bad guy was the distance between them…Not much drama there. And the “transformation” of the major characters Nemo and his dad was so insipid…Nothing like the better disney cartoons.

Johnny English was moderately funny…But I’ve decided that Atkinson is best in a shorter half-hour format. Mr. Bean left me purple with laughter when he visited the church. And Black Adder never fails to keep my smiling, but his movies are just a bit too long for extended silliness…

Okay, I guess that’s enough. I hope I will get better soon.

Take care of yourselves!