With the weather as hot as it is, my brain's turned to mush and those classic novels sitting on my bookshelves, crying out to have their endings read hold no appeal. It's only suitable for Chick Lit, those books you can only loan to a straight girlfriend on a hot night and read in bed with tea. It's sort of a hit-or-miss book: either you'll cry your eyes out and loan it to someone else or everything will be so incredulous that you finish it and hand it back.
     That said, I picked up Wedding Season yesterday while TCB attended a meeting in Indy. You know, girl has steady boyfriend, doesn't want to ever get married, has to attend 17 wedding in 6 months, hilarity and soul-searching ensues in orange dresses. Only half-finished with the book, but going to loan it out to the girls. Especially after attending weddings the past two weekends.
     The girl, Joy, has a wonderful point near the beginning: "I have no empirical evidence that marriage is really all useful or effective these days ... [F]rom the moment divorce became relatively simple a few decades back ... it's been sayonara, sayonara, sayonara."
I agree to the point that I really don't want the whole marriage ceremony, the dress, save-the-date cards, parents fussing, his parents, invitations, the eventual fading, the suspicion, the subequent cheating. I'd much rather skip that and go right to sunny breakfasts in fluffy dressing gowns around the table with the newspaper and tea. He can get up and ready for work, I can lounge, pet the cat, heat water, toast a bagel. Joy's got that, with the well-to-do boyfriend that stays true, despite her suspicions, but she practiaccly sells out halfway through the book. Why you got to hurt me like that, baby?