Scary stuff in the news this morning, and I woke up with it, due to my habit of turning on NPR before I am even out of bed. Sometimes, this is a good thing, when something happy is happening in the world (although there hasn’t been a whole lot of that lately). Usually, though, I ease out of dreamland immediately into bad news, like today. Maybe I need to ditch my radio, and buy one of those noise machines that wakes you up with the sounds of nature, like water rushing in a brook or birds singing, that gets louder and louder gradually. Sure, it’s a little weird. But it has to be better than greeting the day Chicken Little style, “The world is ending! The world is ending!” Can’t be good for my nerves.
At any rate, if you’re flying anywhere today, I feel for you. The lines will be long, so you might want to bring a book to read while you wait: it makes the security line bearable, or so I’ve learned. I personally just finished John Green’s latest, An Abundance of Katherines, which I enjoyed VERY much (and John, if you’re reading this, I would be a really rotten mortal enemy. I’m entirely too passive. And not even passive-aggressive, just passive). It’s out in September. Now, I’m reading Anne Tyler’s Breathing Lessons, which is fantastic, and after that I really want to go out and get the newest by Alexandra Robbins, The Overachievers, since it’s all about kids obsessed with succeeding academically in high school, which is something I didn’t exactly do so I am intrigued to read about it. (College, though, I got serious, made good grades, all that. Better late than never, right?) Also, coming soon is Jennifer Weiner’s newest, The Guy Not Taken, which I can’t wait for. September, I think, is going to be a good month. Grey’s Anatomy Season Two out on DVD, new shows starting up, books to look forward to.
Until then, though, there’s this, the last of August. It’s still summer, but signs of school starting are everywhere. I can always tell, here in Chapel Hill, when the students are beginning to trickle back, because the grocery stores start selling plants. You know, like ficuses and spider plants, big potted ones, usually for $9.99. Just the kind of thing you might pick up for your first apartment, on a whim, while out getting Tide and bread. Even more than the increasing traffic—which is exacerbated by the beer trucks suddenly clogging the main roads, stocking up the bars—plants at the grocery store mean the semester’s start is not far off. Since this is my second year I won’t be going back, it feels a little more distant to me, but still, I feel it. Not enough to buy a plant, by any means. But still, it’s there.