Pittsburgh has many bridges, and this is … one of them. Today looked partly like this, partly like a deluge thunderstorm. I’d forgotten how quickly weather could change. And how completely. A few more newbie Pittsburgh pics here.
Still getting settled (and, when driving, still getting lost). Other than painting the living room today — 2 coats, many trips up and down the ladder — I got in a bit of reading. Finally, I’m reading Gilead, whose excerpts in the New Yorker I found sublime.
But as a book, not so much. 75 pages of sermons to the reader (masquerading as letters to a young son) and I feel lectured to, and trapped in a writer’s musings on writing. If I have to read one more time about all those pages of the author’s — sorry, I mean protagonist’s — writing that’s stashed in boxes in the attic….
Please, bring on the fire and brimstone grandpa and some bloody escaping slaves. If that doesn’t happen soon, I might just be ready for Erin’s aunt’s family history.
