I may just be the only avid female reader in US history who....I'm saying it, I'm going there.....gasp.... didn't like The Help. I know, you can't believe it. I mean, the story was okay but I couldn't get past the dialogue written for her African American characters, it sounded too phony, too "trying too hard. I couldn't finish it and asked my mother who had read it for her book club too, how it ended-because it was a good story, really. I think this may actually be the perfect case for the movie that WILL be better than the book-well, unless they cast caucasian actresses in all of the roles (that's the way the book read to me-like the Ladies Board Players putting on a local production in the hospital cafeteria). I promise if I ever write anything (except this blog), I will accept critique, I will, really.
On another note, the other day I was volunteering at my son's school book fair and I got to talking to another mother (whom I had not met before) about the way time flies and how you can't believe your little squirt is now in second grade. She wanted to go back to the time when her oldest was still at home. And I could not disagree more (I know, gasp). See, I am wanting to freeze time right now....right now is great. I don't want to go back to battling the three year old (now 7), he was sooo much smarter than me. Now we call it even.
Non-shocking news-today-we pitched and rolled about the socks-they didn't feel right. I knew it. I knew it. I knew it.