i loved this book.
why did i love it?
because it was
honest - it was so god-damn painfully honest.
and funny - it was so god-damn painfully funny
and yet, right in the middle of
relaying stories
about live-possum-diving-attacks and
the merits of whether
one should
or should not
laminate a cat,
she will suddenly surprise you with a
gut wrenching glimpse
into depression and anxiety...
the way she writes about it is
like a veil being pulled open for a moment
so you can really see the inner workings
of an illness in all it's complexities
which i appreciate.
i will be honest-
and my husband will agree as i read
parts of the book out loud to him-
i identified very closely
with some of her quirks.
(but...we ALL have quirks, right?)
i wrote to my best friend about
partway through the beginning of the book
and told her it was like someone took
parts of her (best friend) and parts of me (me)
and smushed them into a person.
a quirky-weird-things-happen-to-them-
slightly-stabby-does-not-always-do-well-
with-other-people person...
with a fantastic sense of humor, of course.
{i hope that this is not insulting
to the author.
i mean...it shouldn't be...she doesn't even know us! :)
it is intended to be complimentary in a weird
i'm not good at small talk kind of way.
and Jenny, i feel like i can call you jenny now,
since i just spent two weeks with you, but
if you would like to know us,
c'mon down to PEI! we're very fun, except for
the not-always-liking-people bit}
{this would be easier to write if the cats
would stop attacking my scribbler
and making me shout no at them
and making me lose my train of thought}
