I finished The Underminer by Mike Albo. What a great and distressing story. As I mentioned last week, the entire story is told in first person from the perspective of the underminer. You get snipits of the other characters' life from what the underminer says, but you never get to read their thoughts or see how they are feeling. I really liked how it worked.
I also mentioned that I could only read the story in chunks. The underminer is so vile, but in a very subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) way. Mike did a great job of creating her. Mike also did a great job of making you wonder if you should really hate the underminer. Yes, she's a horrible person who casually destroys another persons life, but at the same time, can you really begrudge her her success? I found myself torn about this. I mean, she got where she was because she went to school and then worked hard. She was a horrible braggart about it, and when she could and should have helped her "friend" she didn't, so that part was reprehensible, but we really don't know anything about the other friend except what we see through the underminer's eyes, and how reliable is that? Besides, why didn't the other friend just avoid the underminer all together? Why did she constantly keep showing up at the parties and other functions? Granted, some of them were chance encounters, but a lot of them weren't. I found myself questioning the motives of the friend.
I recommend reading this book for something a little different and to make you thankful for the people you have around you. If you have a friend that sounds exactly like the underminer, I suggest kicking them to the curb!
Last night, we took the boys to their first college wrestling match. It was my first, too. The only other time I went to a dual was once in high school when my friend asked me to go. I have no idea what the rules of wrestling are. I now know that you can get two points for a take down and one point for an escape, but that's about it.
The boys have their first meet on Saturday, so we wanted to give them an idea what they would be doing. As you can imagine, they didn't pay that much attention. They were worried about screwing around and attempting to wrestle in the bleachers.
We got home past their bed time, and as I tucked the 5 year old in I asked him if he had fun.
He shook his head.
"No?" I asked. "Why didn't you have fun?"
"Because sitting there doing nothing is boring," he responded.
"It can be sometimes." I smiled, kissed his head, and told him good night.
Life is so simple when you're 5. Heaven forbid he watched the match and learned something for Saturday! Oh, well. They'll do just fine.
Have a fabulous weekend!