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Victor Hugo’s The Hunchback of Notre-Dame is creepy, fascinating and utterly terrifying. But like all classics, it’s a bit too wordy, and I found the many pages of the lessons in the history of Parisian architecture a bit hard to take. However, some of the traditional conflicts in the novel, man vs. religion (oh, the powerful beauty of a gypsy girl), man vs. beast (oh, Quasimodo, how misunderstood you are), and man vs. man (oh, the upper class takes a crack at the lower classes), are still powerful.

Sorry for the mini-review, but I’m knee-deep in abridging and will probably not surface until this time next week. But, I’m damn glad I can cross one title off my October reading challenge. Let the bells sing!

Awhile back, I interviewed Curtis Sittenfeld, author of Prep (a book that I urge everyone to read, EVERYONE) and The Man of My Dreams, which I also loved. It was a work thing, and I enjoyed it immensely, but I was so freaking nervous that I think I sound like a complete moron. Anyway, the interview is now up in its quasi-podcast form here. It’s in the Audio & Video channel, down towards bottom, underneath Robert J. Wiersma and just above Alice Munro.

It’s a membership-only site, so you’ll have to register, and if you’re not down with that, I completely understand. But I can’t bring myself to listen to it (I’m terrified it’s bloody terrible), so if anyone else can get through it, please let me know what you think.

So, I totally just finished up with my very inspiring writer’s group, and stopped into the grocery store for (I am not going to lie) some rice chips. I am always fascinated by other people’s groceries: what’s in the cart, on the list, how it figures into their lives. The fellow in front of me had an awesome selection, yams, broccoli, spinach, lactose-free ice cream.

And he was as delicious as his items, the perfect chicklit hero, tall, almost-Matthew-Fox, with short dark hair and these sweet freckles. Just seeing him made me want to write a story about an unlucky in love heroine who sees the perfect man in the grocery store (sans list, therefore single, of course) and lives happily ever after.

See, writer’s group totally rocks.

Even after finishing Nora Ephron’s supremely cute I Feel Bad About My Neck, I’m not really sure if I’m a fan of hers or not. I’d have to say that I found Hanging Up to be one of the worst movies I’ve ever seen, and even if she’s only partially responsible for that atrocity, I’m still going to hold it against her. Her meditations on aging are cute and funny, more like tiny vignettes strung together with Ephron herself as the only common thread.

Roll-your-eyes kind of mom wisdom mixed up with tidbits about the non-joys of growing older, I Feel Bad About My Neck reads more like a magazine you’d read in the doctor’s office than “literature” of the highest order. Which I think is totally fine—it’s all my brain could withstand this week. In some ways, I guess I’m lucky. I’m about half Ephron’s age, so at least I know now to stock up on the black turtlenecks for when I do feel bad about my own neck. It’s bound to happen someday.

Although, I’d be interested to see what she thinks about something other than cabbage strudel and her apartment couches. There’s a sweet chapter on Michael Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay (and I agree, it’s an awesome novel), but for the most part, the oh-wise-sage moments are a little too endearing.

Watch out for cute overload: People who spend too much time in front of the computer, “Mouse Potatoes.” Heh.

The best piece of advice: If you’re under 34 put on a bikini and wear it all the time. Don’t take it off until you turn 35.

The second-best piece of advice: Never marry someone you wouldn’t want to be divorced from…now that’s an interesting way to look at love in the modern world.

Oh yeah, I went by myself to dance class tonight. I was terrified. But it was (and continues to be) a wonderful experience. Tonight, the teacher, Helen, involked Martha Graham, “Ms. Graham”, she said, as we did contractions and high releases on the floor. My hip is still totally stiff but I am exhilerated by the end of the 90 minutes.

It makes me want more, more, more. And I don’t think it’s a bad thing.

Other milestones reached? I read 2 books (updates to come), finished the first draft of one of my abridged books and took the last of the prednisone for the foreseeable future.

I am exhausted but elated all in the same breath.

Of course he does. Rock on Mayor Miller, rock on! He likes reading AND he likes beer. Isn’t that all you need in a politician?

…I never thought I would write. My RRHB is obsessed, OBSESSED, with So You Think You Can Dance. It’s on his Faux-Vo list of shows he absolutely must watch. In fact, at this very moment, he’s watching the top 20 contestants compete in pairs (he’s still on the season currently airing on MuchMusic, I think it’s Season 2). We almost missed the beginning of The Wire last night because he wanted to see Stanislav finish his ballroom dance.

Okay, so I read somewhere that one of the challenges floating around is to read 4 scary books before Hallowe’en. Now this is a challenge I might be able to finish. I’m totally including The Ruins on my list because, well, I am. And then I’m reading The Hunchback of Notre-Dame (totally creepy), The Children of Men (I am half-way through and am totally enjoying it—it’s leftover summer reading), and one more mystery, probably The Thirteenth Tale, because I’ve already started it three times (gave one copy away, left another on a plane, have a third at home) and think that it’s about time I finished it.

Like Sassymonkey, I can not go a month without a challenge. And since I failed so miserably at my Summer Reading challenge, I thought I’d make this one easy.

I have been abridging since eleven AM. I am on a roll but also have turned bleary-eyed. My fingers are aching. My wrists are on fire, like the poor woman in the commercial. And, I must confess, I’m a little smelly because I haven’t had a shower. But it’s one big push today and I’m trying to get as much done as I possibly can. Tomorrow, it’s back to work. And then I have all of next week off to finish everything up. It seems that time will fly by, which is exactly what I do not want.

I have fallen behind in just about everything this fall: my abridgings, my own writing, my reading, and I just don’t know where the time goes. Except I do, kind of, television, working, doing stuff, trips, anything but sitting on my ass and doing the stuff I’m supposed to be doing. But now that it’s getting colder, I’m hoping that things calm down a little.

The other thing I’m missing? My annual sojourn of the band widow. For the first time in about 6 years my RRHB is actually home in the fall. He’s never home in the fall. I’m missing the few weeks I have to myself in this season to regroup, figure myself out and get organized for the winter. Hell, I haven’t made a meal plan all summer. What’s wrong with me? AND, I can’t even blame it on my health, because I truly am feeling much better and far, far less diseased.