14 April 2004
I really hate all of the "user not found" virus/spam e-mail I've been getting, because half of them are good enough that I have to read them to make sure it isn't my mail getting lost.
I also hate singers on the radio who have no concept of their own range and how to sing in it. I think part of the problem is that "songwriter" is not a respected enough profession. Or maybe it's "singer" that isn't. I don't know. But people keep feeling they need to combine the two, and I think that they need to more carefully consider the possibility that the song they just wrote was not a song for them to sing. We didn't expect Mozart to sing the Queen of the Night's aria. And some of us are thrilled and relieved when Bob Dylan songs get sung by other people. Listen and learn, radio singers. Also, if you must strain for notes in your range, strain at the bottom end. Stop. Screeching. At. ME!
Ahem. Anyway. My back is now fixed for the time being, and Ed and Jen and Elena have set off for Albert Lea, and I've got writing and stuff to do. I didn't finish The Proof House, being distracted by The Dubious Hills, which Timprov left in the bathroom I was cleaning. So now I'm reading both of them, because I am weak, weak, weak. I don't remember enjoying The Dubious Hills this much the first time through -- I don't know if I had it at the wrong moment or if the related trilogy enhances the experience -- but I'm wallowing in Arry this time and wiggling in anticipation of Arry and Ruth's book.
We had a good time last night, though we now have enough Ethiopian food leftover in the fridge to feed all of Ethiopia and probably spill some over into Somalia. We even sent some of it home with people. Still so much Ethiopian food. Oh my oh my. We had an even dozen of adults here last night -- Ben, Judy, and Beth and Josh couldn't make it -- plus the adorable Ellie, of course. She was not, I am sad to say, very useful for eating up the Ethiopian food. But quite ornamental. She is a grinner, the sort of baby who will give you an extra-big smile at the slightest excuse. Also, Ed with a baby is just exactly like Ed without a baby, only with a baby added in. Is that totally clear? Good. No, it's that some people as parents are a shock to one's system, and Ed as a parent is...Ed. But as a parent. Would I have said, "Ed will definitely call his daughter Miss Belly?" No. But when he did it, it was just what Ed does. There will be pictures later, when I get around to getting them off the camera and all. Just another thing on the list.
It's Wednesday. How did it only get to be Wednesday? How did it already get to be Wednesday? I feel like I've lived through more than a week of stuff already but gotten less than a week of stuff done. And there were a few "company's coming" quick fixes that need to be redone -- the laundry was dumped undifferentiated in the closet in the laundry room, and it needs to be sorted (and, presumably, washed and dried and folded). And then there are books to get back to writing. Books. Yes. Bills to pay, books to write, and don't I wish the two were more closely related. But soon, soon.
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