Ever-So-Much-More-So

I was thinking my eyes would be popping open at 4:30 a.m. by now. I was wrong.

***

Life, before you leave to start on something new, takes on a condensed, ultra-concentrated kind of feel. It reminds me of a story I randomly read back in elementary, called "Ever So Much More So."

It's funny what stays with you. I trolled for information on the story this morning ... and, aha ... The Wikipedia entry for the Homer Price* stories:

"Flim-flam merchants and larger-than-life paraphernalia appear in several stories. One features a snake-oil salesman — Professor Atmos P. H. Ear — offloading an odorless, colorless, tasteless chemical called 'Ever-So-Much-More-So' that when sprinkled on things, supposedly enhances everything; a soft bed would become softer, a fast car becomes faster, and so on."

In elementary, it seemed that every year we watched a film about a donut machine that wouldn't stop making donuts, and all hell breaks loose after a woman claims her diamond bracelet fell into the batter. The stories are from the same root. That's something I'll have to check out when I get back. Sam's getting to an age where I'll be able to read any children's story to him with impunity.

***

I bought a book yesterday, a time-killing tool for the traveling and registration period before training actually begins. (This normally takes about four days, but I've been told that it can take weeks.)

So I went to Half-Price books and moseyed over to the fiction section. I didn't really know what I wanted, only what I didn't want:

• No westerns. (I'm reading one right now.)
• No war novels, any time period. (I don't need to read about guts and glory -- things will go much better if I stay focused on the practical.)
• No fantasy or sci-fi. (See above.)

Considering how the above list constitutes 95 percent of my normal reading material, picking out a book was not easy. I eventually ambled over into history, where I had to deal with the fact that everyone in my platoon (squad, whatever) will know what I'm reading, and God knows what cultural background baggage they're bringing with them. So, no books on tribal Africa, stay away from Samurai histories and don't even look at the Middle East section.

So I shuffled back into fiction and eventually picked out a novel by the same guy who wrote Watership Down, one of the better books I've read in the last five years. The story is called Plague Dogs and has a picture of two canines on the cover. That'll do.