December is Clearly not NaBloMo

My head is awhirl with things to write about, but no cohesive story.  You'll have to settle for some stream of consciousness, then...

1. I just finished listening to Audrey Neffenegger's Her Fearful Symmetry.  She's a buh-RILL-iant writer.  I especially love how she "gets" and can write about the being in love part of love.  She doesn't write (or hasn't yet that I've seen) about the wistful, insecure part of falling in love.  Instead she does a fantastic job of capturing that warm, melting confidence of married love.  How does it differ?  Let me illlustrate:  reading Stephenie Meyer's Twilight books makes me want to "get romantic" with my husband. Audrey Neffenegger's writing makes me want to break my back meeting all his other needs: take out the trash, cook a 5-course meal, tuck surprises about the house for him to find when I'm not home.  She inspires me to be more deserving of my husband.
2. I also just finished reading Rocannon's World by Ursula LeGuin, which I stole from my sister when I was visiting.  Jen is an absolutely voracious reader.  She has all these book piles about the house, functional and aesthetic and some a mix of both, and it works.  My attempts at laisse-faire decorating like that wind up looking like I stacked up random books and then forgot to put them away.  Her's look essential to the make-up of the room.  However, for an OCD like me, these piles of books beckon to be rifled through, so...I do.  Ms. LeGuin is one of - if not The All Time - favorite authors for Jen.  She's a groupie, for pete's sake, and attends all her readings. (Who knew Bend was such a hot bed of literary culture?!)  I have to say, however, thus far I've had trouble getting into Ms. LeGuin's novels.  But this sci fi, for some reason, was the perfect story for whatever this time is with me.  (Books are like that, don't you agree?)  I started it while I was out there (trouble sleeping w/o My Beloved) and took it home to finish.  And, now I'm done.
3. I'm currently reading Olive Kitteridge, which I don't recommend to anyone.  It was recommended to me by E (Hi, E!) and won the Pulitzer Prize.  It's great writing, no lie, but the characters are all so hateful!  Gah!  The character development is so great, after only 10 pages I felt I could tell you what Olive or Henry would do in any situation.  *That* is some mad writing skills.  But, unfortunately, what these characters would do is sabotage their own happiness by taking the happiness of everyone else around them.  It is definitely not bed-time reading, at least.  I haven't decided if I will finish it yet.
4. I stopped reading Still Alice (another recommendation from E).  It's about a 50-something cognitive psychologist who comes down with early-onset Alzheimer's.  You know when you have a funny pain or some weird lab result and you search the internet about that pain or result and discover you could be anywhere on the spectrum of disorders from IMMINENT DEATH to HANGNAIL but are convinced you have IMMINENT DEATH?  Yeah, I'm pretty convinced I have early-onset Alzheimer's now.  I haven't gotten lost in a parking garage, yet, but if I keep reading it will be harder to forget about having read it.  The sooner I forget about reading it, the less likely I am to go bat sh*t when I do get lost in a parking garage.  
5. Another book I stole from my sister, which I'll start soon, is City of Glass by Paul Auster.  I know nothing about it, but Paul Auster is a line in a song I like so I borrowed it to provide some context to the lyric.  I didn't know he was an author and wasn't even really certain I had the name right until I saw the book lying atop one of the book piles in their bathroom.  Don't ask me which song (see point #4 above).