Book Club

I just finished a book for our first book club meeting. I hated it. It sucked. And the reason that I thought it was a piece of crap was not because of the writing, or the story, but more because it very closely resembles my life....without the poorly thought out murder intrigue. It was about a mother of small children, living in a "Pleasantville" town, feeling incompetent, questioning her life and what had become of the person that she used to be. Why would I want to read something like that, when I can just look around and live it? I feel the same about the sitcom "Everybody Loves Raymond". That is also an exaggerated version of my life. It's not funny. It's pathetic. And I'm left wondering about this sucky book, "What on earth could we possibly discuss about it"? The whole point of this book club was to get together and drink a lot of wine (oops), I mean, to exercise our minds a little bit. There are eight of us in the group, we're all stay at home moms, most of our husbands travel a lot, so I guess the premise in choosing this book was that it was something that we could all relate to. Brilliant. I must have been totally trashed by the time we voted on it. I hope the next book is a little better. Someone suggested a novel about the Middle East, but since I haven't seen the news in about six years, I might not have much to contribute to that either. I'll just make a good Falafel, and hope that no one notices.