I just finished reading "Dress your Family in corduroy and Denim" by David Sedaris. I accidentally purchased his last book "Me Talk Pretty Some Day" on tape, and it was a fortuitous accident. I've decided to purchase all future David Sedaris stuff on tape. After hearing him read his work, the books are a bit of a let down. This one seemed much sadder than the other ones, like he's more reflective about his past -- instead of making constant fun of it. It's weird knowing so much about this random dysfunctional family. It's even stranger, because one of his sisters apparently lives in my neighborhood.
I also read a completely unremarkable chick-lit book called 32AA. I've got to stay away from the chick-lit books that are published by off-shoots of romance novel publishers. They're just not as good. They're entirely predictable and they focus on the wrong plots. This one was totally set up to be an ex-boyfriend revenge novel, and instead it focused on the relationships of the protagonist and her friends. Not nearly as interesting as it could have been. Her ex was her boss, and forced her to keep being his secretary after he dumped her. There are laws about these things, and it was annoying to read about Doormat Woman who never got this guy in trouble.
On the T this morning I finished "My Legendary Girlfriend" by Mike Gayle. It wasn't as much fun as a different book by him, "Mr commitment." But I enjoyed it and I was very happy to have it when the T took 45 minutes to go from Davis Square to Park Street. It was about this sad sack of a man who bumbles through his life mooning over a woman who dumped him three years before the story started. A major con of the book is that he's alone for 99% of the book except in flash-backs. There's only so much action that can happen in somebody's head in a crappy apartment in a dodgy area of London I've never heard of. But he pulls it off more or less. I wouldn't read it again, so I'll probably give it a C+. It will end up in the box bound for the Salvation Army.
In other news, Rich took Eric to the doctor this morning. They sent him home from school with a fever yesterday. Argh. I had really hoped that the fevers were over. Like me, the doctor was really worried about him wheezing. I think yesterday we SO wanted him to be better that we sent him off to school and we should have known better. But Rich really wanted to get back to his jobsearch and this is one of my busier weeks at work, so Rich took him in a little late. He cried at the drop off, which is unusual for him these days. He actually cried from the moment Rich put his shoes on, and Eric continued to cry until after Rich left him at school. How totally heartbreaking.
So, the doctor gave us some oral albuterol (I know, who knew??) and some steroids to help him breathe. He didn't want to say it was asthma, but I'm asthmatic, so I'm pretty sure that's what it is. I just don't want him to be like me and go undiagnosed until he's 12. I remember gasping like a fish while my well meaning family offered me sudafed tablets and endless cups of herbal tea. I COULDN'T BREATHE, PEOPLE. WHEN YOUR KID IS GASPING FOR BREATH, YOU TAKE THEM TO THE DOCTOR. SHEESH!!! Sorry about the rant. Not sure what happened there!!
I'll bet he's much better by tomorrow. My extremities are all crossed.