I figured John Edwards would be dropping out soon, but I'm sorry to see it's this soon. He was a gentlemanly candidate, and I believe he's sincere about issues such as poverty and health care. I'll miss him in debates--and with him gone, who's going to keep Hillary and Barack from coming to blows? (Kidding. I know they'll save slap fights for a more private venue.)
Patricia Cornwell is going to do me in. To be more precise, her inept writing is going to kill me. I read a few of her early books because I'm twisted enough to be fascinated by serial killers and forensics procedures; oddly enough, I don't watch any of the CSI shows, though. Anyway, those books were fast-paced and had enough plot twists to keep my interest. I picked up a more recent book of hers at the grocery store the other day. Is it just me, or is she churning out so many books that she's given up on even attempting to write well? I'm going to quote a passage from this book as an example:
"Nice of you to let me know," Marino says angrily as he angrily digs through a saddlebag for his tire-plug kit as he angrily thinks of Joe Amos, getting angrier with each thought."
Just a guess, but do you think Marino was upset about something? Gah. I don't know whether I can finish this book because I want to throw it across it the room. I hate not finishing a book I've started, but she's driving me to thoughts of homicide. "Angry thoughts," I think angrily.
Last night proved to me that Indiana has the most bizarre weather in the entire country. Here's what happened: Yesterday afternoon, the temperature was a balmy 54 degrees. Around 8:30 p.m., there was a bad thunderstorm with heavy rain. By 9:00, there was a tornado warning followed by hail. An hour later? It was snowing with near-blizzard-force winds! Needless to say, the temperature plummeted like a rock; I think it was around zero this morning. I'm changing outfits as often as a chorus girl in a musical revue here. Maybe I'll go read some more of that damn Cornwell book. My anger will keep me warm.