Summer Child

Dear Whoever You Might Be,


      Since it is in my habit to write about the books I am reading, I shall do you all the great honor of keeping within my habitual boundaries. I mean...no one likes change, right?
      So here is the deal. Right before Christmas, I was suggested a series of books by a dear friend of mine. I had heard of these books before, but never read them. With a leap of faith and trust in this person's judgment and enthusiasm over the books, I decided "why not." I always appreciate it when people take my book suggestions seriously, so shouldn't I grant the same courtesy to someone else? Especiallllly since this person's enthusiasm could *almost* match my love for all things Dostoevsky?
      Well, ladies and gentlefolk. I am here to tell you that these books are in fact the Game of Thrones series. Now it may not come as such a shock for those of you who remember my confession of loving Twilight that I would dare to read "fan fiction." But for those of you who were veiled under the pretense of me reading only high literature by the fireside with my pinky in the air whilst clasping a cup of Earl Grey... I am sorry to dash such a vision into the abyss. The truth is this --I picked up Game of Thrones in Barnes&Noble because someone told me to. I went back for the second book, Clash of Kings, because I *wanted* to.
      The books are so freaking huge that I needed a mini break between the first and second books; in which time I read Train Dreams and Watership Down (which I mentioned in This Post) . But I am glad that they are so freaking huge. Why? Because they are so freaking good! I never EVER thought that I would actually like these books. I figured I would give them a chance, and thank goodness I did. A small part of me just likes being able to say that yes I have read them, so yes I can understand why people are so obsessed...although, let's be honest... most of these people are just obsessed with the show. I haven't even seen the show yet. I am holding out so my minds-eye isn't tainted by actors and actresses when reading about the characters.
      For those of who familiar with Games of Thrones, you will recognize the title of this post as something associated with the story line. If I were writing this in the fall, I might have chosen something even less subtle like "Winter is coming." But I used "summer child" because when I picked up these books, I was a summer child in my bias against reading this "fan fiction." I was a summer child because I had no idea what I was to expect. I was naïve of what I was diving into. Being a "child of the summer" references those who have had no exposure to the harshness of the world, the cruelty, the sadness. It refers to a sort of blindness of the things to come. I was often a snob when it came to the books I allowed on my precious shelves. And though I am literally a "summer child" because I was born in June, I hope that when it comes to what to expect from books in the future, I do not allow myself to be so naïve. I expected Games of Thrones to be ridiculous and predictable; easy and quickly tossed aside. Little did I know what I was getting myself into. They are good. Really good. And I advise those of you who decide to read them -make sure you give yourself plenty of free time. You'll not only need it, but you'll want it.


                                                                     Sincerely,
                                                                              Me

Brr, It's Chilly

Dear Whoever You Might Be,
      Are you surviving the Snowpocalypse of 2014? I am... Although, I wish it weren't even around to have to survive? I know everyone is all "OMG no school, no work!!! Yayy!" but from me to you, I am done with all the snow. Finished. Over it. The funny thing is, I never thought I would say that.   
      I have always considered myself a "winter" person. I used to dream of these kind of snow storms. Living in Maryland growing up, we usually had mildish winters with the occasional big storm once every few years. And even though we never really got exponential amounts of snow (unlike this year), I found is amusing when I went to college in North Carolina and was surrounded by a slew of people who had never even seen snow, or had only seen flurries. Now, as a resident of New Jersey, my lifelong friendship with snow is turning sour. It is beautiful at first, and if there was no need to shovel or leave the house or walk the dog, I think the snow and I would still be on good terms. But there is a need to shovel, and leave the house, and walk the dog. The east coast has seen a ridiculous amount of snow this winter season, and I am just ready for spring.
    I would say that once winter is over I will miss the boots and scarves and jackets. But let's be honest people -you cannot wear cute leather boots in the snow. You only wear the scarves to wrap around your face and end up looking like you belong as a Bollywood dancer. And unless you are rocking a designer label snow coat, we all just end up looking like bundled summa wrestlers with all the layering. I am not a snob when it comes to bundling, but it gets a bit redundant having to wrap and unwrap the thirty thousand items of clothing needed to keep warm and dry in such weather.
      I just finished reading Watership Down by Richard Adams and reading it made me ready for springtime even more. It was about rabbits and reading the descriptions of thy breeze blowing through the warm grass on the hillside and running through a field of flowers just made me long to see the trees blossoming and the sun staying out past 5pm. I think that if we had a bunny instead of a groundhog predicting the weather then it would be spring sooner than six more weeks....
      There is really not much more to say about all this than I already did because basically everyone everywhere is talking about the snow. I think it is probably trending more right now than the Olympics.
                                                                        Sincerely,
                                                                                 Me