After spending the last three weekends consuming and devouring Stieg Larsson's Millenium series, I think the title of this post could easily be the title of his fourth book which is on his laptop, the only thing inherited by his partner of 30 years. How sad is that? Stieg Larsson ruined my social life three weekends in a row. He ruined my sleep as I read until 2am to finish the last book in the series. My updating of my blog was confined to book reviews of his books I read. I was invited to a birthday party that had a pig cooking on a spit, and I kept saying, "One more page, one more page," and when next I looked at the time it was 2am! Yeah, you may say it, I am pathetic and obsessive, whatever! Okay I admit it, wherever you are, Stieg Larsson I am your number one fan. But, back to The Girl with a face like an over-ripe tomato. That happens to be me. Yesterday I travelled to Arusha to chaperone our school's athletics team at a meet. Thinking I'd be sitting under the trees watching kids and chatting to parents, I neglected to take along sun cream. Unfortunately, they were short staffed and a little chaotic, and myself and one of the parents got roped into timekeeping in the full sun with NO sunscreen. The stopwatches were dinky brightly coloured toys made in China and probably bought from Toys R Us. Needless to say, they didn't work properly, but that's a whole other story. After 4 hours in direct African sun, remembering we are sort of on the equator here, my face had turned an enviable shade of bright red. You could have chopped off my head and used it as a stop sign. Someone said, "Oh I was going around passing out sunblock but thought you didn't need it because you were African." Listen lady, Africans also burn, especially white Africans. So I went home with my face stinging and my nose feeling like the skin was going to split any minute.
This morning I woke up and my face was swollen and puffy. I have been sunburnt many times before, but I've never woken up with a swollen puffy face. Under my eyes were saggy bags that looked as if I could keep my loose change in them. I was aesthetically, a disaster. On top of that, I could hardly see out of my eyes. The worst part, is that I have finished the free samples of moisturising lotion I collected from hotels we stayed at on our recent Mountain to Mountain Safari. I have a nasty feeling I am going to peel and when my new skin comes out I'm going to look like a wrinkled old prune. The worst is, is that the redness of my face really brings out the greyness of my hair.
I've finished the first draft of The Great Mountain to Mountain Safari, and am now working on writing the random factoids that'll appear throughout the book and getting the formatting right. The maps are still giving me grey hairs. I wish |I knew a cartographer who could just draw them for me. It's all about time, and that is something which I don't have enough of. Somebody dropped off 10 kg of pork, thinking I'd turn it into sausages. I have no time to make sausages, I really want to get this book finished, so have decided to smoke it. I can only hope it turns out okay. Talking about baking and cooking, because of the vast amounts of spinach in my garden, I've spent each weekend, after I'd finished with Stieg Larsson, trying out new recipes with spinach. I made canelloni, spinach quiche and last weekend, spinach and cheese pastries. Today I'm going to make spinach and feta samoosas and spinach and cheese muffins. Just call me the 'domesticated expat writer teacher.' I just need a little apron now to really look the part. Mind you, this red face will detract from my culinary skills.
Hopefully, this last week of school before the holiday won't be as hectic as the two preceding ones. And, I have no more Stieg larsson to distract me from my writing tasks and social life.
Have a great week!
love
Cindy
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Book Review: The Girl who kicked the hornet's nest
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
The last in the series and what a rollercoaster ride it was for Kalle Blomkvist and Lisbeth Salander. The reader was hooked from the beginning, wondering how on earth she'd extricate herself from the huge mess.
Although gripping and a real page-turner, on quiet reflection after finishing the book, I do have to say there are a few flaws, little niggles that I can't move past. Things that are worrying me. Maybe they would have been addressed in a fourth volume which sadly will never be written. Camilla the twin sister never features, never appears and even at the end we are told Salander has no clue where she was. I have to ask, why was she even included in the story if she played no part whatsoever? Blomkvist texts Salander and tells her she made an error and that's how he found out she'd stolen all that money. When she asks how she slipped up, he tells her that if she meets him for coffee, he'll tell her. They never meet for coffee, he never tells her, so I'm left hanging, how did she slip up? How did Blomkvist find out?
There was also a part where the billions of kronor she had, at the end suddenly turned into billions of US$. Is that the same thing? Are Swedish kronor equivalent to US$?
I also didn't like how she dismissed her inheritance from Zalachenko. I understand she has her own fortune and the money from him is negligable, but it would have left a better feeling, a more warm fuzzy one, if she donated that money to open a centre for abused women and children or something. It would have rounded off the story better.
Otherwise, another cracking good read that had me turning pages until 2am. Now I've finished the series, I can get on with my life and my own writing again!
View all my reviews
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Goodreads Giveaway
Don't you love a website where you can list your books as giveaways? The Case of Billy B has had some awesome reviews on both Amazon.com and Goodreads.com. Some change of season madness, or it could be temporary insanity caused by hayfever, but I've decided to put three copies of The Case of Billy B up for grabs.
love
Cindy
love
Cindy
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Sunday, September 19, 2010
Review of The Girl who Played with Fire
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
This was even better than The Girl with the dragon tattoo! Whereas that took me a week to read, this only took a weekend. Granted, now my eyes feel like the scratchpatch at the local semi-precious stone shop. probably because I couldn't put the book down to go and fetch my glasses. The plot was complex, well-thought out and constructed. It gripped you completely. And the ending???? What was that? Now I just have to get the third one in the trilogy and find out what happens! Another weekend stuffed because of Mr Sieg Larsson!
View all my reviews
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Review of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and Goodreads Giveaway
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
I had heard all the hype about this book but somehow or other, had never got round to reading it. Then my Dad out of the blue recommended it, and I thought I have to read it. This fast-paced thriller is a book everybody should read. It's well-written and is so gripping, you'll be like me and read the last 300 pages in one go. The only problem with the book, is that you'll find it hard to do you work and other chores, you'll just want to keep on reading.
The plot is complex but well-woven. The heroine is unlike any other heroine you've ever encountered. It's just brilliant.
View all my reviews
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Psychadelic Pink Fake Fur
This is a true story.
Last Friday when I came home from school, I gasped with shock the minute I stepped over the threshold into my sitting room. At the far end was my bookshelf. The lovely blue and gold Thai silk runner had been replaced with a psychadelic pink fake fur piece of fabric. A piece of fabric that was kept in a box upstairs with other pieces of fake fur - a leftover from my teddy bear making days. My housekeeper had obviously decided to give the Thai silk runner a wash, and had turned her nose up at the other really nice tasteful runners I have, and opted for the psychadelic pink fake fur. Now, while I appreciate the bright and colourful, the psychadelic pink fur was well...nauseating. I almost felt like I needed to wear sunglasses in the house. To make matters worse, she arranged my wooden map of Africa at a tilt on its side and she fetched the toy purple poodle from my daughter's bedroom and placed it as an ornament on the psychadelic fur. It was all a little much, but she obviously thought it was attractive. I collapsed in the chair and stared mesmerised at the bookshelf. Could I be bothered to change it?
The next morning I found myself sitting in the chair again, contemplating my pink fur runner. Siobhan came tripping down the stairs, her eyes full of sleep. "You still looking at that pink thing? If you don't like it, why don't you change it?" And she flopped down on the couch next to her jeans she'd climbed out of the night before, the pile of dvds scattered everywhere, and her smelly dirty socks.
"You know," I muttered sadly, "I pray to God nobody comes to visit us. I have a psychadelic pink fake fur runner, a shocking pink knee rug Grace has covered the coffee table with; and my lovely bedspread from India has been put on the dining room table as a table cloth! Then to make matters worse, look at your crap lying all over the floor." I shook my head, giving up. There was no point in arguing with her. The day before she'd told me it was my fault she was untidy because I employed a housekeeper. Teenagers.
"Get real Mom, who comes to visit?" she sneered nastily. "If you don't like it, stop whining and change it. Do something about it." She sashayed out the sitting room and went back upstairs to get ready to go out.
Of course, I had just returned home after dropping her off at a party when I had an unexpected guest. Luckily, earlier when Siobhan was in the shower I'd taken her dirty plates to the kitchen and picked up the dvds and thrown away her dirty tissues. But, I'd left the dirty smelly socks where she'd left them under the couch, and hadn't yet gotten around to changing the psychadelic fur. My lack of motivation to get up the energy to change my decor resulted in me having to apologise profusely for the state of my sitting room. It was embarrassing.
Today, one week later, I get home from school and the psychadelic pink fake fur fabric is still on my bookshelf as a runner. A week has gone by and I still haven't changed it. What signals am I sending out? My housekeeper obviously assumes I'm happy with her interior decorating skill; my daughter thinks that I don't mind living in a bomb shelter. This got me thinking. When we are unhappy with a situation, what messages do we give other people when we make no effort to change it because we can't be bothered.
Inside, I am very bothered, it's driving me mad, but change takes energy, it takes effort. Many times in life, we just complain and whinge about situations we don't like. We have the power to change it, but we can't be bothered. It's too much effort. So, we learn to live with it or around it. We accept things we shouldn't accept. We lower our standards. And as we get more and more used to a bad situation, the less likely we'll make the effort to change it. Mahatma Gandhi said, "Be the change you want to see in the world." Nobody but you can change the situation which is bothering you. You have to get up, find the energy and make that change. Throw away the psychadelic pink fur runner. Hide it where the housekeeper can never find it again. Make that change, don't turn a blind eye and just put up with it. Do something about it.
Besides thinking about how we go about changing unpleasant things, which I can blame entirely on my housekeeper and the psychadelic pink fake fur, I've also been thinking a bit about why we say sorry and how many times we really mean it. So I wrote a hub about it which you can check out here http://hubpages.com/hub/Why-do-we-say-sorry.
Long weekend here this weekend, and my goal is to write, write, write. I want to try and finish my up trip part of The Great Mountain to Mountain Safari. Have a great weekend and remember, make those changes in your life which are making you unhappy. Everyone deserves to be happy.
love
Cindy
Last Friday when I came home from school, I gasped with shock the minute I stepped over the threshold into my sitting room. At the far end was my bookshelf. The lovely blue and gold Thai silk runner had been replaced with a psychadelic pink fake fur piece of fabric. A piece of fabric that was kept in a box upstairs with other pieces of fake fur - a leftover from my teddy bear making days. My housekeeper had obviously decided to give the Thai silk runner a wash, and had turned her nose up at the other really nice tasteful runners I have, and opted for the psychadelic pink fake fur. Now, while I appreciate the bright and colourful, the psychadelic pink fur was well...nauseating. I almost felt like I needed to wear sunglasses in the house. To make matters worse, she arranged my wooden map of Africa at a tilt on its side and she fetched the toy purple poodle from my daughter's bedroom and placed it as an ornament on the psychadelic fur. It was all a little much, but she obviously thought it was attractive. I collapsed in the chair and stared mesmerised at the bookshelf. Could I be bothered to change it?
The next morning I found myself sitting in the chair again, contemplating my pink fur runner. Siobhan came tripping down the stairs, her eyes full of sleep. "You still looking at that pink thing? If you don't like it, why don't you change it?" And she flopped down on the couch next to her jeans she'd climbed out of the night before, the pile of dvds scattered everywhere, and her smelly dirty socks.
"You know," I muttered sadly, "I pray to God nobody comes to visit us. I have a psychadelic pink fake fur runner, a shocking pink knee rug Grace has covered the coffee table with; and my lovely bedspread from India has been put on the dining room table as a table cloth! Then to make matters worse, look at your crap lying all over the floor." I shook my head, giving up. There was no point in arguing with her. The day before she'd told me it was my fault she was untidy because I employed a housekeeper. Teenagers.
"Get real Mom, who comes to visit?" she sneered nastily. "If you don't like it, stop whining and change it. Do something about it." She sashayed out the sitting room and went back upstairs to get ready to go out.
Of course, I had just returned home after dropping her off at a party when I had an unexpected guest. Luckily, earlier when Siobhan was in the shower I'd taken her dirty plates to the kitchen and picked up the dvds and thrown away her dirty tissues. But, I'd left the dirty smelly socks where she'd left them under the couch, and hadn't yet gotten around to changing the psychadelic fur. My lack of motivation to get up the energy to change my decor resulted in me having to apologise profusely for the state of my sitting room. It was embarrassing.
Today, one week later, I get home from school and the psychadelic pink fake fur fabric is still on my bookshelf as a runner. A week has gone by and I still haven't changed it. What signals am I sending out? My housekeeper obviously assumes I'm happy with her interior decorating skill; my daughter thinks that I don't mind living in a bomb shelter. This got me thinking. When we are unhappy with a situation, what messages do we give other people when we make no effort to change it because we can't be bothered.
Inside, I am very bothered, it's driving me mad, but change takes energy, it takes effort. Many times in life, we just complain and whinge about situations we don't like. We have the power to change it, but we can't be bothered. It's too much effort. So, we learn to live with it or around it. We accept things we shouldn't accept. We lower our standards. And as we get more and more used to a bad situation, the less likely we'll make the effort to change it. Mahatma Gandhi said, "Be the change you want to see in the world." Nobody but you can change the situation which is bothering you. You have to get up, find the energy and make that change. Throw away the psychadelic pink fur runner. Hide it where the housekeeper can never find it again. Make that change, don't turn a blind eye and just put up with it. Do something about it.
Besides thinking about how we go about changing unpleasant things, which I can blame entirely on my housekeeper and the psychadelic pink fake fur, I've also been thinking a bit about why we say sorry and how many times we really mean it. So I wrote a hub about it which you can check out here http://hubpages.com/hub/Why-do-we-say-sorry.
Long weekend here this weekend, and my goal is to write, write, write. I want to try and finish my up trip part of The Great Mountain to Mountain Safari. Have a great weekend and remember, make those changes in your life which are making you unhappy. Everyone deserves to be happy.
love
Cindy
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