Books of May, 06

This month included the final two volumes of The Book of Words trilogy, a detective story, and two books aimed at teens.

• A Man Betrayed by J. V. Jones
  
• Heat by Mike Lupica
  
• Flush by Carl Hiaasen
  
• Master and Fool by J. V. Jones
  
• McNalley's Dilemma by Lawrence Sanders (& Vincent Lardo)
  
• Currently reading Idoru by William Gibson
  

A Man Betrayed by J. V. Jones (Book II of the The Book of Words trilogy) - Second on the Book of Words trilogy, it didn't really move the story along that much. It seemed more to me a sort of "fantasy comes in trilogies, I've got the opening book, I know where I want the ending to go, so I need something in the middle" book. Really, both this and the first could easily have been made one volume with half the stuff cut out. But, while at times tedious, it did keep me interested enough to move on to the third book -- though I needed a break prior to moving on.

Heat by Mike Lupica - Well, here's the thing. I've been wanting to read some of Lupica's fiction. I unexpectedly had two hours to kill, so I went by Sam's Club to see what I might could find to read. I saw Heat by Lupica and bought it without reading the jacket blurbs or any of the book. Turns out it was aimed at kids. Read it anyway, and it wasn't all that bad but if you're over fifteen you can probably pass it up. The story follows a kid, great baseball player (over the top "great" actually) who is struggling with a bit of a problem in getting to play.

Flush by Carl Hiaasen - Another book aimed at teens, though this one could be enjoyed a bit more by older kids and even near-fifty year olds. Number One Son had read it and wanted me to read it. He knew I had read some of Hiaasen's work (definitely not kid stuff) so wanted to see what I thought about this one. There were some fairly large-sized holes in the story I assume were allowable as it was aimed at kids, but overall not a bad book. I'd still pass it up for Hiassen's books aimed at an older audience, but not a bad book for teens.

Master and Fool by J. V. Jones (Book III of the The Book of Words trilogy) - The concluding volume of The Book of Words, and it ended the story in a fairly routine method. I've not read a lot of fantasy lately and, while it wasn't horrible, it didn't light me on fire. This trilogy is skippable in my opinion, but okay if you are hard up for a fantasy read.

McNalley's Dilemma by Lawrence Sanders (& Vincent Lardo) - My first book by Sanders, and it turns out to be by Lardo. I'm going to try and rustle up the original works by Sanders and start with those, then continue with the books that continue the series after Sander's death. Even though it was fairly predictable and I saw the ending (or at least partially saw it) fairly early on, but it was still fun to read. It reminded me a bit of Wodehouse, and I love Wodehouse. In fact, I need to hunt up another Wodehouse fairly soon to add to my collection. McNalley's Dilemma follows McNalley as he tries to sort out a mystery that involves a lovely young thing and the death of her father.

Currently reading Idoru by William Gibson. Gibson is know for writing cyberpunk and I've read a couple of his books and decided I'm not a particular fan of cyberpunk. But I picked this one up via paperback swap and thought I'd give it a try. I'll let you know.

Random Childhood Memory: My Earliest Memory

When trying to dredge up my earliest childhood memory, I think it's Mamaw and the fan. Mamaw was my Dad's mother and grew up a country woman. We lived a stone's throw away from Mamaw and Papaw and occasionally when Mom and Dad were out and about, Mamaw would keep an eye on us kids. On this particular day, or actually this particular few seconds of memory, I've no idea where my parents were or where my older brother might have been. What I remember was being at Mamaw's house, her sitting in a rocker and me squatting on the floor in front of an old, metal, oscillating fan. AC, while available, was still some thirty years from making it into this house, and the fan was strategically placed to swing back and forth and provide Mamaw's rocker with a nice little breeze.

I was squatting in front of the fan, the breeze swinging back and forth, hitting me then swinging away, then swinging back across and hitting me again, then swinging away in the other direction. The fan had a round metal cage front and back, metal base, and metal blades, and stood about two feet tall. While squatting there, I stuck my finger out and started it toward the fan, whose cage easily permitted entry of a toddler's finger.

• I remember Mamaw saying "Don't stick your finger in the fan."
• I remember that I continued to stick my finger in the fan.
• I remember the rapid thp-thp-thp-thp-thp of those metal blades making drumming sounds on my finger.
• I remember jerking my finger back and starting to cry.
• I remember Mamaw saying, while continuing to calmly rock back and forth, "I told you not to stick your finger in the fan."

I wonder about the differences in then and now. If I picture that scene played out today, 1) as soon as the child approached, the mother would have jumped up and dragged the child away; 2) the fan would be placed so as never to be allowed in the child's reach again; 3) the parents would have tested (with fan off, and child asleep to avoid emotional trauma) to see if the finger would have gone through the cage; 4) there would have been a lawsuit because of the Mom's sleepless nights from knowing that the possibility existed that the child could have or might one day get his finger thp'ed; 5) the child would have ended up overdosing on heroin from growing up overprotected (okay, perhaps a stretch on that one).

I have often thought through the years that folks, including SWMBO and I, overprotect our children a bit too much. I'm not suggesting we throw the babies on the back windshield of the car anymore (though as a toddler I remember it as a great place for a nap while traveling), but I didn't grow up with knee pads and helmets while riding a bicycle or skateboard, and didn't expire from the skinned knees. I climbed trees to dangerous heights, swam in lakes and streams, built unmoterized go-carts and crashed them, and on and on. I wonder sometimes if the seeming lack of a recognition of consequences some kids have these days stems from being overprotected as they grow up. Who knows. But I can say, on the day of my earliest childhood memory, I learned something I never forgot: don't stick your fingers in a fan. Haven't done it since.

I also learned, or at least had the seeds of the idea planted, that actions have consequences. We've tried to include that lesson in various ways with our kids over the years, and so far it seems to have taken root. But in seeing what some kids do, and seeing the reaction of the parents in blaming everybody possible besides their kids, I think a lot of young adults grew up missing that lesson. If every kid spent a couple of months with a Mamaw like mine -- assuming they survived -- they would have a much better idea of how the world really works . . . and you know, that would probably be a good thing.

Watch Those Orifices

Something I've noticed lately with prescription pills I've been getting (and I've been needing way too many of late) is the direction to take "by mouth." It made me wonder just how many folks have been taking these things by, um, . . . let's just say by other methods -- but how many that it became necessary to put this info on the bottle.

Granted, I know there are certain things you shove into an orifice other than your mouth (I was thinking nasal spray, what were you thinking?) but I personally would always err to the idea that should some medicine go somewhere other than my mouth the directions might point it out. Given the additional info now on the bottles, I assume this isn't the case with everyone.

"So, Mr. Jones, how's that infection?"

"It doesn't seem to be any better, Doc."

"Hmm. Did you miss any of the antibiotic pills?"

"Nope. Took 'em at 10 am and 10 pm, just like clockwork every day. And just between you and me, Doc, in the little stall we have at work it was sometimes tough to shove 'em up my rear."

"I think I might see the problem."

I'll leave you folks with a piece of advice, one that has stood me well: prior to popping anything into an orifice, if directions are not specific call and ask. A mistake in either direction would be embarrassing.

No Post Post

Just a quick post to say there are a variety of reasons that I haven't posted lately, least of which is that what little time I've had available, free, and feeling like doing any computer stuff was spent putting together my square foot gardening site. It is incomplete, but mostly there. If interested in the square foot gardening method, you can check the site out by clicking:

Square Foot Garden

I'm going to stop with the occasional log of my square foot garden here and do the garden updates on my square foot garden site.

Misplaced Millions

Over the last few days, much has been made--at least in sports-reporting circles--about John Daly's gambling loses that were revealed in a soon-to-be-published autobiography. Daly reports that he has lost between fifty and sixty million gambling over the past twelve years. While I agree with the general consensus that losing over fifty million dollars gambling is a bit daft and certainly indicative of a need to make a quick call to gamblers anonymous, I was struck by something different: how can an individual be fuzzy over ten million dollars?

Not fifty million, not sixty million but "fifty to sixty million." Daly apparently can't nail it down anywhere closer than a margin of ten million! I might can see where a country can misplace $10 million, but an individual? Even an individual making millions? Come'on, it seems you'd notice that. I can almost hear him mulling it over: "The other ten million might have been gambling, but I did buy a lot of shoes, who knows how many cigars, and those six packs of beer add up over time; maybe that's where the extra ten million went."

I did try to put this into perspective to see if doing so would make it sensible. See, often SWMBO has commented that she took $100 from an ATM and can't figure out where it all went. "I took a hundred out of the ATM on Tuesday, and here it is Friday and I've only got eight dollars left." She'll try and sort it out, and it goes something like this: "I got my hair done on Tuesday, that was twenty, then stopped by Piggly Wiggly on the way home and spent another fifteen or so. Call that forty total. Then Wednesday, I had lunch out and that was about eight dollars plus tip. But I haven't spent any since then, so I should have fifty left--but there's only eight bucks."

Forty-two bucks disappeared in a period of three days. Extrapolated, that would be over five thousand a year. If Daly misplaced, oh I don't know, say a hundred-K annually it might work out, but compared to the eight-hundred thousand per year Daly hasn't a clue about, it just doesn't compute. We're talking ten million dollars total on which he's fuzzy. I gotta tell you, I don't expect to ever be making Daly's kind of money, but if I do I will fight that problem. If SWMBO comes home with "Let's see, I took $100K out of the ATM, spent eighteen thousand at Wal-mart, another fourteen thousand at Michael's on clothes, five thousand at the spa--I should have sixty-three thousand left but only have eight thousand bucks" we will put intense focus on setting up a cash flow monitoring system. I wonder if Daly has ever heard of Dave Ramsey?