Freaking cold.

The problem with goodreads is that I tend to look at what other people say about the book I've just finished. Usually books I'm adding as I come across them I tend to ignore the ratings. Don't know why, it's just probably that I tend to be flying by then. When I review or add to the current year's booklist, I've got a bit more time to dawdle.

Sadly, I learn that I really shouldn't. Like, for instance, Wings was optioned by Disney and is all set to be Miley-fied. I... can't imagine who she would be because she's the anti-Laurel, but whatever. We're here to discuss the book, which had a huge flaw. Namely, Laurel is more than a bit obnoxious. It takes extra work if your character knows she's prettier than everyone else, otherwise she tends to come off the wrong way.

But you'd never know that because there's a wall of love for this book. Wall. Of. Love.

Really? Plant faerie aspect aside, was it really that awesome and I just missed it? Am I too old? It wasn't a bad book by any means, it just... How to explain this. Some books you do not put down because they're that good, or, at the very least, you're that involved in the world. Some books you have to put down, either to keep from finishing too soon or because you need a moment to recover. This recovery can be from the awesome that is assaulting your senses. It can be from something awfully lame or just plain awful. But you know there's a problem when a week passes and you have very little desire to finish the book.

In my case I reached the halfway point a little before jury duty started. I didn't want to take a book I was more than halfway done with to JD, so I opted to take a different book. Then a cat puked near Wings (but not on) and I felt it was okay to not pick it up for a day or two. That stretched into two weeks.

The only reason I finished it was because I liked David, kind of liked Chelsea (she was in it for two seconds, but not again after I picked it up to finish it. Figures.) and... I hate leaving books unfinished unless they suck.

Wall of love.

Okay, I need to shut up about books and clean. Plus I have a letter to mail.

Writer's Block: Raining cats or dogs?

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Cats. Cats are mean, evil, cruel little creatures who expect you to be honored to scoop out their litter boxes. They bite, they scratch, they climb on you with little regard for your personal pain tolerance levels.

And yet when one of these sneaky little hellions decides they love you (and only you), you feel like the special little snowflake you're pretty sure you are.

Also? Despite the cat slicing my wrist, slashing my throat, and causing us both to shriek when she sliced into my face (all accidents), she never once went psycho and scratched my back to the point that my horrified mother had to douse my back in peroxide that bubbled up over every freakin' scratch.

The neighbors' dog did when I was... I don't know. Under ten. It was fantastically painful and scared the crap out of me. Yet my brother is the one who had the fear of dogs. (To be fair, one did bite him in the face.)

I like dogs. I would never hold dog-love against someone. But I don't really get the proper way to pet them or rub their bellies. You'd think five years with a dog or two would have fixed this, but our oldest dog still gives me this "you are so useless to me" look whenever she realizes I'm the only person around for tummy rubs.

Cats I get.