I enjoy being a girl having a mind to change. (I also quite enjoy men. I don't think anyone says that enough.)
Speaking of enjoying men. Nice segue. I'm skimming thru Gillian Roberts' The Mummer's Murder or whatever the title is. There are seemingly endless conversations between the girl detective, Amanda Pepper, and everyone else in Philadelphia. I think I write better dialog than I do prose, so I'm comfortable with yammering but this is way too much. I can't even follow it. But that's not my problem with this book. I don't like how petty she is with her boyfriend who seems perfectly lovely. Does this pass as a modern relationship when the woman practically takes a cudgel to the love of her life and does nothing but bitch and moan at him for the slightest little problem of hers? Be grateful you have someone in your life, Mandy. But no. The ungrateful little wench never shuts up. Sorry, I don't like it, I don't believe it and it's against my religion. But I don't live in Metropolis so I'm not au courant with the sophisticates.
Next time someone complains about men, remember who ran into the World Trade Centers as they were burning and crumbling to save people without a thought to their own safety. Men. That's what they do best--protect the rest of us. If that's not honorable and praiseworthy, I really don't know what is.
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