Mind Over Matter Read Online Free PDF

candles burning on the table, and another half-dozen taperson the sideboard. A.J. decided the romantic light definitely helped the looks of the meat loaf. “Aurora brought the wine, so I’m sure it’s lovely. You pour, David, and I’ll serve.”
    “It looks wonderful,” he told her, and wondered why A.J. muffled a chuckle.
    “Thank you. Are you from California originally, David?” Clarissa asked as she handed A.J. a platter.
    “No, Washington State.” He tipped Beaujolais into Clarissa’s glass.
    “Beautiful country.” She handed Aurora a heaping bowl of mashed potatoes. “But so cold.”
    He could remember the long, windy winters with some nostalgia. “I didn’t have any trouble acclimating to L.A.”
    “I grew up in the East and came out here with my husband nearly thirty years ago. In the fall I’m still the tiniest bit homesick for Vermont. You haven’t taken any vegetables, Aurora. You know how I worry that you don’t eat properly.”
    A.J. added brussels sprouts to her plate and hoped she’d be able to ignore them. “You should take a trip back this year,” A.J. told Clarissa. One bite of the meat loaf was enough. She reached for the wine.
    “I think about it. Do you have any family, David?”
    He’d just had his first experience with Clarissa’s cooking and hadn’t recovered. He wondered what recipe she’d come across that called for leather. “Excuse me?”
    “Any family?”
    “Yes.” He glanced at A.J. and saw the knowing smirk. “Two brothers and a sister scattered around Washington and Oregon.”
    “I came from a big family myself. I thoroughly enjoyed my childhood.” Reaching out, she patted A.J.’s hand. “Aurora was an only child.”
    With a laugh A.J. gave Clarissa’s hand a quick squeeze. “AndI thoroughly enjoyed my childhood.” Because she saw David politely making his way through a hill of lumpy potatoes, she felt a little tug on her conscience. A.J. waited until it passed. “What made you choose documentaries, David?”
    “I’d always been fascinated by little films.” Picking up the salt, he used it liberally. “With a documentary, the plot’s already there, but it’s up to you to come up with the angles, to find a way to present it to an audience and make them care while they’re being entertained.”
    “Isn’t it more of a learning experience?”
    “I’m not a teacher.” Bravely he dipped back into the meat loaf. “You can entertain with truth and speculation just as satisfyingly as you can entertain with fiction.”
    Somehow watching him struggle with the meal made it more palatable for her. “No urge to produce the big film?”
    “I like television,” he said easily, and reached for the wine. They were all going to need it. “I happen to think there’s too much pap and not enough substance.”
    A.J.’s brow lifted, to disappear under a thin fringe of bangs. “Pap?”
    “Unfortunately network television’s rife with it. Shows like Empire, for instance, or ItTakesTwo. ”
    “Really.” A.J. leaned forward. “ Empire has been a top-rated show for four years.” She didn’t add that it was a personal favorite.
    “My point exactly. If a show like that retains consistently high ratings—a show that relies on steam, glitter and contrivance—it proves that the audience is being fed a steady stream of garbage.”
    “Not everyone feels a show has to be educational or ‘good’ for it to be quality. The problem with public television is that it has its nose up in the air so often the average American ignores it. After working eight hours, fighting traffic, copingwith children and dealing with car repair bills, a person’s entitled to relax.”
    “Absolutely.” Amazing, he thought, how lovely she became when you lit a little fire under her. Maybe she was a woman who needed conflict in her life. “But that same person doesn’t have to shut off his or her intelligence to be entertained. That’s called escapism.”
    “I’m afraid I don’t