Good Talk...Good Talk

Reading Ginny Andrews’ writing is like sitting down with a dear friend and just shooting the breeze. You know, if the breeze happens to include stories about yoga sessions gone wrong, adventures on the “yellow dog” (the school bus), and how not to react in an unexpected lockdown drill, among other shenanigans.

With wit and wry insight, Andrews regales the reader with tales of her missed cues and missteps in this journey we call life. I’ve often said that my epitaph will be “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” and I think Andrews might say the same. Even something as seemingly simple as rubbing some Bengay on the aches and pains of impending middle age turns hilariously, awfully funny. (And she had a coupon to buy the Bengay! She is my people!) Her monologues are filled with those things that have you wanting to crawl in a hole when they happen, but you know you’ll laugh at them. Eventually.

I think Ginny Andrews and I would be BFFs if we moved in next door to each other! Pizza and Dr Pepper and swappin’ stories for the win.

So if you’re one of those totally put-together people who’s never put a foot wrong, someone who always knows the right thing to say and the right way to act, this may not be your kind of book. But if, like me, you’ve said to yourself, “Well, that didn’t go the way I expected,” then I think you’ll be snort-laughing your way through Good Talk…Good Talk like I did, and you should read it immediately.