September 20, 1:10 p.m.
It is 112 degrees outside.
The dogs are bored. They have all claimed their sleeping spots. They dream of cooler temperatures.
Sophie's spot is in the hallway that leads into the kitchen. She sleeps on the cold tile, and when she is awake, she monitors movement around the house.
Gus sleeps in the guest bathroom. Again, the tile is cool. He sleeps on his back, his paws stretched into space. A furry 110 pound dog struggles to stay cool.
Shado claims the foyer. More tile, so he sleeps on his side. He is our 'first responder', so he knows to claim the guest entrance/exit.
And Toby - the odd guy - he sleeps on the couch. He forgoes the tile just to be near. He is the smallest of our dogs, but at 60 pounds, he isn't ALL that small. Plus, he is an odd dog. Odd in the fact that he has never ever had a bad moment in his life. Even bad dreams turn out okay for him.
And I have been scouring through countless books. I am on the hunt for what seems impossible. On Wednesday, I am to 'audition' for a volunteer job of recording for the blind. My 'audition' is to read 8-10 pages of a book, obviously out loud. The pages must contain some dialogue and some descriptive passages.
The task sounds easy enough. I love to read, and aloud reading is fun. So why is finding the right book so difficult?
I started with the idea to read an escapade from Robert Wittman's book, PRICELESS. But not all chapters have dialogue, and those that do often have phrases like "effets de soir" or artists' names like László Mednyánszky. These are probably easy enough to pronounce, but not something I want to tackle at an 'audition'.
So I moved on to another book I am reading. The Punch by John Feinstein. I'm still thinking about it... again, not too much dialogue strung together. For some reason, I turned away from it. But the story beckons me back.
I went on to the Time Traveler's Wife. But in my desire not to read aloud about underclothing or the physical body, I passed on this. Funny, I love this book. But I am not sure facing strangers and reading it aloud are compatible.
I tried a Philip Margolin. It, too, left me a bit unsettled. As did a bent up copy of a Patrica Cornwell and then a Stuart Wood.
So, right now I am leaning towards Michael Connelly's Echo Park. I found it on my back bookshelf. Plenty of dialogue, an interesting procedural, and easy enough to read aloud when I get nervous. If it gets nixed, I'll move on to John Grisham or Nelson DeMille or Brad Meltzer. For some reason, this genre seems to be a good fit for such an uncertain attempt. Dialogue, descriptive passages, easy to read.
If all else fails, I'll reach for one of the Larry Niven books. They never fail to drive me into the deep.
Or I'll curl up with Toby. I have never had a bad moment
while curled up with him.