Going in the Bushes, Books

We're sorry we missed Sunday. Emily has taken to doing her business in the bushes (sometimes "laying" her #2 in the branches of our baby chrysanthemum). Problem is, she turns into a garden monster afterwards. I'm frantic running after her Craziness to hold the camera.



We'll be better next time. Usually, I'm trying to get her not to chase after me and bite the bottom of my jeans, and bark down the neighborhood.
--
Emily's now into foot chomping.

--
Book Notes:

H. did not throw Elegance of the Hedgehog (Muriel Barbery) out the window (without bothering to open the window), but she was tempted to more than a dozen times while reading it. If a spiteful but intelligent teenager decided to scribble down some notes on how her family and acquaintances are all shallow, worthless morons, (but idealizes paper-cutout orientalist wallow) this would be the book. Sadly, it was written by a philosophy professor.

H., being familiar with phenomenology and the 19th C canon, is unimpressed by the trotting out of Kant, Husserl, and Tolstoy, all the while ignoring structure, plot, depth of character, generosity, and what she thinks of as "the higher intelligence of fiction" that transforms instead of justifies pettiness. What a waste of some good sentences. Not to mention there's a beautiful and kind sister who had been "seduced by the son of a rich man" and left to die, wronged and with child, crowbarred in at the 11th hour to add reason to resentment. I kid you not. No, no, it's set firmly in the 20th to 21st centuries.

Yes, from the infamous Christmas stash that brought us The Da Vinci Code.