This morning I went shopping with a neighbor.

That sounds so strange. You have to understand, I’m not the shopping type. All those stereotypes about women and shopping? The only time they apply to me is when I’m in a bookstore or a kitchenware store, or MAYBE a gardening supplies store. And even then I’d much rather order online, and I try to make my shopping trips quick, preferably right after the stores open so they won’t be crowded. (In particular I hate, HATE clothes-shopping.)

Anyway.

We have this really nice neighbor. She’s short, kind of round, and a minister. I’m not religious, but she’s the kind of religious person I can appreciate, who constantly tries to live by her morals and ‘be a good Christian,’ but NEVER pushes her religion on others. Not once have I ever felt preached to by her. She’s just a sweet, sassy lady who cares about everyone around her, the kind of old-fashioned neighbor who’ll keep an eye out for you and yours, which is a rare thing in these times. I just love her to death—she’s the kind of lady you want to make cookies for and worry over when things don’t go well.

She invited me along to a Tuesday Morning store, which I understand I’d never heard of before because they don’t have them up north where I grew up. It’s actually rather fun—they get loads of discounted and discontinued stuff that hasn’t sold somewhere else, so you can get some great deals on nice stuff. I might even have to drag my husband back there for a couple pieces of kitchenware and furniture.

But mostly, it was nice to spend some time with the neighbor. Everyone tends to lump all religious people, or all people of a given religion, or all non-religious people, into stereotyped groups, just like everything else (such as that above-mentioned ‘women love to shop, especially for clothes’ stereotype). Atheists get accused of hating God or hating Christians all the time, just like Christians get accused of always trying to impose their beliefs on others. It was nice to have the reminder that there are plenty of us who are just people, who can have religion or a lack thereof be a strong part of our lives without having it separate us from our neighbors.

Differences only separate us if we let them.

Today’s review is of J.D. Robb/Nora Roberts’s Glory in Death.

Our next-door neighbors have a golden retriever named Missy (which is kind of funny, since if I recall correctly, my grandparents used to have a golden retriever named Missy too). Historically I don’t like dogs, largely because my father let his two black labs (and the half-great Dane that he eventually got) run roughshod with no training. It’s no fun being five feet tall and having a dog jump up with his forepaws on your shoulders, taller than you are and definitely heavier, when you know darn well he’s just as likely to knock you over as not.

However, our neighbor’s Missy and I have gotten along ever since we first met, for certain definitions of getting along. She came bounding out of their backyard, and with uncharacteristic confidence I turned, looked her in the eye, and said, “go home, kiddo.” She turned around and went right back to her yard. Since then she has never again come running at me, and she also no longer leaves their yard; I think they now have her trained not to, even if the gate is open.

There’s also a gray and white cat that roams our neighborhood. He’s obviously someone’s pet; he’s clean and collared. He really loves our house, though, and particularly enjoys sitting outside our windows taunting Selene. Cahlash couldn’t care less whether there’s a cat in our yard, but Selene—oh, our tiny, seven-pound terror would rip that cat’s heart out if she could just get to him, and she lets us know that in no uncertain terms. When he goes round the house’s corner she tries to follow him, but she hasn’t yet figured out that the glass doors to the fireplace aren’t a window, so she stares in vain for him to appear.

This morning I went out to rotate the tumbling composter. Missy was in the neighbors’ backyard, and apparently isn’t used to having someone in our yard, because I was treated to much barking. When I came back out of the yard I noticed the gray cat sitting in front of Missy’s ajar gate. Missy barked at me, leaned down to the cat, *whuffed* in its face, and then ran off. The cat looked over at me with a comical look of surprise on its face and trotted after Missy. That’s one of those moments when I wish I could understand the language of animals.

Our latest reviews are of: Veronica Wolff’s Sword of the Highlands and the supremely quirky A Corpse in the Soup by St. James & Bradner.

It’s 2 am. You’re sound asleep, ensconced on your back on a comfy bed beneath warm, fluffy blankets.

Without warning, an 11-pound cat leaps from the floor and, with unerring aim, lands dead-center on your stomach, paws stiffly outstretched as though trying to burst a balloon.

You bolt upright in bed, wide awake, startling both cats into racing from the room. You know that in the morning, every muscle in your back will ache.

Welcome to the 2 am psychokitty:

Printed so that it read upside-down (yes, I can read upside-town text quite easily; it’s one of those useless skills you pick up in childhood and never quite lose):

Today’s book review is of Eldress Bertha Lindsay’s Seasoned with Grace, and today’s entertaining t-shirt design is:

The Human Gee Gnome Project
Discover the little oddities in life

This morning I was stunned to realize that Errant Dreams Reviews now contains 600 reviews. Six HUNDRED reviews. SIX hundred REVIEWS!

SIX HUNDRED REVIEWS!!!

*ahem* Sorry about that. Got carried away.

It took about 10 years, because I wasn’t always as focused on reviewing as I have been for the last year or so, but there you have it. Now that’s a milestone!

Edited to add: After all of that, you’d think I’d remember to post the link to today’s 600th review! Sheesh! Here it is: Susanna Carr’s upcoming Red-Hot and Royal!

I’ve always loved martial arts flicks. The problem is, these days they tend to use CGI and/or wire-work to enhance the wild and crazy stunts they portray. While I can enjoy a CGI or wire-work movie if that’s what I’m in the mood for, when I want to watch a martial arts flick it’s generally because I want to see just what the human body can do when it’s properly trained and pushed to its limits. CGI could turn anyone into a martial arts madman on screen—I want to be amazed by what someone can REALLY do.

Recently my husband and I started visiting some friends in Virginia for occasional movie nights, and it turns out that they’re huge martial arts fiends. They introduced us to some Thai movies, and we’re completely and utterly hooked. Our two favorites so far are Ong-Bak and Born to Fight. As expected the plot is flimsy and largely there to provide an excuse for the fight scenes, but that’s to be expected. Thai martial arts are amazing to watch, and the man who produced both of these films apparently feels that the way in which Thai films can distinguish themselves, since they don’t have the resources of Hollywood or Hong Kong, is through their death-defying stunts and unique forms of martial arts. Boy howdy is he right. These are incredibly visceral movies, and if you watch the ‘making of’ specials on the Born to Fight DVD you’ll see at least one stunt that came entirely too close to killing a stunt man.

Ong-Bak is particularly amazing for its chase scenes and its long fights involving Thai martial arts. Born to Fight takes a bunch of professional athletes (seriously: they used real professional athletes instead of actors) so that they could do jaw-dropping stunts and fight scenes that mixed athletics and martial arts. It’s every bit as good as watching an old-style Jackie Chan-style scene using props to their fullest. I can’t wait to see The Protector next.

Apropos of nothing, the latest reviews are of two J.D. Robb/Nora Roberts books: Strangers in Death (her latest), and Naked in Death (the first in the series).