esrosedotblog

Today was a bit of a lost day. We had the cleaners here and they called to come early. I said OK. There were four of them which made it quicker than normal but there was no chance that my plan, which was to watch a movie while they were here, would work out. So I read and kibitzed a little and sat outside. And read. They did a great job. Thorough. Detailed. They clean out the refrigerator for heaven's sake. I have never done that except on a spot basis. They have also caught us up on the outside, furniture, concrete, stuff. We had some problems. Things would not end up where they found them but I have worked that out with them pretty well. I know it should not make a difference but there is always a mixed gender group. Today, two men, two women. But it makes a difference. The men do the heavy duty stuff which includes hosing and brushing the outside floors down, climbing to clean the clerestory windows and so on. Last week they cleaned the filthy garage. I am still enough of a sexist to like having a man around the house. Admitted. Today the guy in charge asked if I would like him to bring his big carpet cleaning machine next time. He would only charge for the chemicals it uses. Of course, I said yes. It is not as good as one of those come to the house in a truck service but it beats any other form of cleaning so, yes. Yes.

I have finished two books this week. Peter Orner's new volume of short stories: Last Car Over the Sagamore Bridge . That car left as a hurricane approached. These stories are great. Orner writes in short bursts. Some of the stories only half a page long. Others a page. The rest maybe several pages but none longer then four or five. Succinct. And very dramatic. Hard hitting. I really liked them and I do not, as a rule, enjoy short stories at all. I was told that he was the short story writer for people who do not like short stories and that is correct. At least for me. I also finished reading but did some fast forward for Enon: by Paul Harding. Enon is the town where Hardings wonderful first book took place and here we have more, exhaustively, of its small town history and life experience of a father who has lost his 13 year old daughter to an auto accident. The book drips with nostalgia and some wonderful writing about his time as a kid and then as a father. Also a husband in a tenuous marriage which buckles at the tragic event. The novel drips with grief. Grief unabated. Self centered grief. Grief for the human loss but the loss of innocence in a town in which innocence does not really exist except in the romantic impulses of people like the stricken father. I was on board until the drug addiction got so deep and the self absorption so single minded that I just couldn't take anymore. I loved the stories of his boyhood, his wonderful grandfather, the sweet relationship with his daughter. But enough became enough. I had to leave or skip to the end which has him recovering more or less but we do not see that part. What happened? I know that it is usually a spiritual experience that leads to putting the juice down but we do not see his. It just happens. I felt cheated. It is like hearing a recovered alcoholic and/or addict tell there story and never getting to the getting sober part. Maybe I identified too much but I don't think so. I have heard some pretty sad and grisly stuff live and in gruesome detail over the years. It is more that Harding seemed to engage in the same self indulgence with the writing about the sadness. Trying too hard to get it down, deeply. The first book, (they all say "please don't compare my first with my second book") was sunny and tough at the same time. Here, the past is sunny. The present is gruesomely dark and the future looks no better. Until it suddenly is. Huh?

We are back on the afternoon dog walk schedule. We had to do it because we were getting home in the dark after supper but it is not going to be "right" until daylight savings ends and we have some less sun before dinner. I am doing the prep for the cooking and so far that has worked OK. We get home at about 5PM or earlier and that allows plenty of time for a quick sit-down and then a run to the kitchen for the final production. We didn't stay out on the walk too long. It was warm and Booker was tired. He did not like the massive intrusion this morning with the cleaners. He groused the whole time and was very not friendly. Too much for him. I kept him apart with me and we sat outside a lot but that didn't make him feel much better. I can tell when he is not interested in the night time walk. It takes about five minutes or less to poop and then he turns around. Done. A utilitarian walk not a perambulation, a sniffing expedition or a visit to the larger territory. His territory. All the way up to the ball field and down, this morning, to the convention center. That probably affected it too. A very long walk this morning.

Labels: Booker, books, condo, life