The Edge

( Longish passage here )

I think this one is going to be a fun and interesting ride. The main character is a hometown football hero from Fredericksburg, TX. For those who aren't familiar with it, Fredericksburg is a small town in the TX Hill Country. It's beautiful, charming, very German, and very, very insular. Basically, if you weren't born there ... you are an outsider for life. It used to be a ranching town, but it's now a huge tourist destination. A lot of artists, writers, etc. live in the Hill Country, and Fredericksburg has many lovely art galleries and fun shops -- mostly clustered along Main Street (Haupstrasse). Beck, the main character, left Fredericksburg at the age of 18. Instead of choosing to play football for UT, he took a scholarship to Notre Dame. And he hasn't been back to his hometown for 24 years. At the start of the book, his wife has died, and Beck finds himself faced with the daunting task of trying to continue practicing law in a big Chicago firm (3,000 billable hours a year) and raising two kids on his own. He quickly realizes he can't do it, and he heads home to the Hill Country and Fredericksburg in the hopes of finding a safe place to raise his kids. He finds that the preceding 24 years have changed Fredericksburg on the surface, but, underneath it all ... it's still the same town he left behind.

So far, I have to admit a fondness for this one simply based on the fact that it is set in my old stomping grounds. I grew up in the Hill Country. Not in Fredericksburg, but not all that far from it, either. I've been to most of the places mentioned in this book, so reading it is a bit like coming home for me, too. Plus, I can already tell that Beck is a good guy. His dad, J.B. (who decided, even before Beck came home, that Beck needed to run for judge ... but, of course, didn't ask Beck about it) is quite a fun character -- annoying at times, but in a funny way. And with a lot of heart. And Beck's kids are adorable ... and heartbreakingly fractured by their mother's death. I'm not that far into this one yet, so we'll see how it goes.

(Just finished, actually ...)

Scott continued down the hall to the men's room. He was standing at a urinal and thinking about Rebecca's latest lie when he zipped up and turned around and came face to face with Gabe's goon. And he realized that Louis hadn't followed him out of the courtroom.

"I guess I didn't make myself clear on the beach." The goon grabbed Scott by his shirt. "The Vegas boys don't want Gabe to testify."

A toilet flushed.

A stall door swung open, and Louis's massive body filled the opening. He stepped out and loomed large over Gabe's goon -- and blocked his path to the door. The goon released Scott's shirt.

"Sorry, Mr. Fenney. Nature called. Would you excuse us?"

Scott smiled at the goon and slipped past Louis and out the door. He walked back down the corridor to the courtroom. Gabe saw him and looked for his goon. But it was Louis walking down the corridor. Scott waited for him; they entered the courtroom together.

"Louis, I didn't see the goon leave."

"He left, Mr. Fenney. Through the window."

"But we're on the second floor."

"Yes, sir, we sure are."

~ Accused, Mark Gimenez

So, as I mentioned above, I just finished reading this one today. Enjoyed it immensely. This is the third of Mr. Gimenez's books that I have read, and I loved each and every one. This one is a sequel to The Color of Law, which I posted about a few weeks ago.

Bobby studied Scotty sitting there in his expensive suit and starched shirt and designer tie and looking like the Prince of Dallas and wondered if his old friend really gave a damn how Bobby Herrin had been. Used to be that when Bobby ran into an old law school classmate who had done better -- which is to say, any law school classmate -- they would both realize the awkwardness of the encounter and manufacture a quick escape. But there was no escaping here.

So Bobby said, "Scotty, when you get up in the morning, do you think good things are gonna happen to you that day?"

Scotty frowned a moment, then shrugged and said, "Yeah, I guess so."

"Why?"

Scotty shrugged again. "Good things have always happened to me."

"The best football player, best student, best looking, marries the most beautiful cheerleader, becomes a rich lawyer, and lives happily ever after?"

Scotty flashed that big smile again. "Something like that."

"Exactly like that."

"Yeah."

"Well, see, Scotty, it ain't like that for everybody. I don't wake up thinking good things are gonna happen that day. I wake up wondering what's the next bad thing that's gonna happen to me."

~The Color of Law, Mark Gimenez

Oh yeah ... I can totally identify with Bobby Herrin. Poor guy.

So, bit of a mix-mash post today. Although, now that I am sitting here, staring at the blinking cursor, I can't think of much to say. I hate that.

Still displaced from the office, of course. That will remain status quo for the next several days -- maybe even a week. Paint started going up on the walls today. I was apprehensive about the color before it went up. You know ... that whole feeling of "I think I'm gonna love it ... but what if it looks different when it's up?" And, of course, everyone currently in my household (guests included) had to weigh in (uninvited) with an opinion as to the color. I was thinking of it as something between a robin's egg blue and a sort of Tiffany Blue, but softer in tone. After hearing everything from baby blue to sky blue to "it's exactly like what you already have in the kitchen and bedroom ... so why did you need new paint again?", I started to lose confidence in my choice. Funny how no one can destroy my confidence and self esteem quicker than my family. I think it's because they never say anything positive. It's always doubts and disagreement and "are you sure about that?" So that I end up having to defend my decisions and choices -- always. There is something emotionally and mentally exhausting about knowing those closest to you don't trust you and don't believe in you. They might say they do, but actions speak louder than words.

Anyhow, the color started going up on the walls, and I love it so far. Even with less than half the room done, I already feel better walking in there -- calmer and more at ease. Funny how a new color can make a big difference. And I feel relieved that I don't hate it. One crisis averted ... unless it dries to a shade I can't stand. But I'm telling myself so far, so good. I am kind of dreading trying to put everything back into that room, no matter how much I want my space back.

Finished a Diana Wynne Jones book last night. The Time of the Ghost. Great book. It still makes me sad to know she passed away.

Hubby decided to work from home today, so we ate breakfast out together. We tried out a new place -- a little French-style bistro that we had driven by several times. I had an omelette with tomato, avocado, and spinach. Best omelette ever. And, after, I found the most wonderful little independently-owned book store. I love Borders. I really do. But there is something extra-special about browsing in a store like this. Truly lovely experience. I bought four new books, in spite of the fact that I just spent a week packing up all the books that were on my office shelves -- and was lamenting that I had way too many. It's a sickness. What more can I say?

Currently reading (in addition to Pratchett) Tongues of Serpents. I have all the other Temeraire books, but hesitated over purchasing it after reading many less than stellar reviews. So I checked it out of the library. Maybe I will invest in it when I can find it in paperback. I just started it this morning, so we'll see how it goes.

I so want to write. So, so, so much want to. I think it's a mixture of the depression and fear holding me back. Plus it's hard to write when my mother is here. She never stops talking, although I feel guilty for writing that out loud. It's ... complicated. I guess that's the only way I can explain it. "Complicated" sums the whole relationship up nicely. Neat, with a bow on top ... even though it's painfully messy in reality. At any rate, it's hard to write with someone talking at you in the background -- and getting angry when you don't talk back. Still, maybe I will give it a try. I haven't had the urge this strongly in months. Seems a shame to waste it.

Casualties was full of patients on stretcher trolleys, and there was one standing next to the elevator. An imposing-looking nurse in voluminous SPG's was standing next to it, reading something to the patient from a polythene-wrapped book.

" 'Whoever perished, being innocent?' " she said, and he realized with dismay that it wasn't a nurse. It was Mrs. Gaddson.

" 'Or where were the righteous cut off?' " she recited.

She stopped and thumbed through the thin pages of the Bible, looking for another cheering passage, and he ducked down the side corridor and into a stairwell, eternally grateful to the NHS for issuing face masks.

" 'The Lord shall smite thee with a consumption,' " she intoned, her voice resounding through the corridor as he fled, " 'and with a fever, and with an inflammation.' "

And he shall smite thee with Mrs. Gaddson, he thought, and she shall read you Scriptures to keep your morale up.

~ Doomsday Book, Connie Willis