I've given quite a bit of thought to this year's New Year's Resolution. If you remember, for 2006 I chose a resolution for every month, and wound up burnt out halfway through the year and a little depressed from focusing so constantly on all the things that were wrong with my life. Then in 2007, I chose to focus on only one thing: being happy with my life the way it is. Which was a nice reset, and arguably something I still have to work on, but doesn't seem specific enough.
So this year, I have two resolutions - things that I expect by this time next year I will have made a real alteration in - and a few other goals - things I would like to make a priority but aren't as necessary.
Resolution #1 - work to create a more enjoyable intimate life (ahem) with my better half. He deserves it.
Resolution #2 - by this time next year, have a manuscript ready to start shopping around to agents.
Goals:
- write 500 words daily
- run 5 times a week, with stretching and working out 2-3 times a week
- pay attention to and work on improving my diet
- spend more time playing with my children and less time yelling at them
- maintain a consistent level of organization
- adhere to a strict budget guideline
- make new friends, keep up with the old ones
- don't buy any more new books until 2009! (at which point hopefully my TBR stack will be significantly shrunk)
- read more! veg out on computer/TV less!
And, finally, Be Happy.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Sunday, December 30, 2007
thank you, Alton!
Today, an open letter to Alton Brown, the Geek's God of Cooking. I wanted to say thank you for having a show that made cooking and food-related topics a subject of interest to my other half:
Thank you for my kitchen, which has been upgraded in every appliance to "Alton-approved" brands and styles.
Thank you for my weekend mornings (and some weekday evenings), when I am regaled with tasty pancakes and waffles based on Alton recipes.
Thank you for the roasts, the turkeys, and the general cooking know-how that has added such flavor to our life.
Thank you, oh so very very much, for the chocolate-peppermint pinwheels that our entire family looks forward to every holiday.
Now, can you please do a show on how to find things in your kitchen (especially the refrigerator)?
Thank you for my kitchen, which has been upgraded in every appliance to "Alton-approved" brands and styles.
Thank you for my weekend mornings (and some weekday evenings), when I am regaled with tasty pancakes and waffles based on Alton recipes.
Thank you for the roasts, the turkeys, and the general cooking know-how that has added such flavor to our life.
Thank you, oh so very very much, for the chocolate-peppermint pinwheels that our entire family looks forward to every holiday.
Now, can you please do a show on how to find things in your kitchen (especially the refrigerator)?
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
it was the best of times, it was the worst of times
I was thinking last night about some of the best and worst times of my life. At first, I was surprised that it was so much easier to define the worst than the best. But then I thought about it and of course it's that way. Because the worst times tend to be associated with an event, something drastic that sticks out in my mind, while the best times are more eras than moments. So, some of my bests and worsts:
(We'll start with the worsts so as not to dwell on them.)
- the week after Lou had his heart attack in 2004. I was terrified, torn between my duties to my kids and my need to be with my husband, miserably sick myself. It was awful.
- losing Matthew. No need to elaborate there.
- incidents associated with my mother's alcoholism. I won't go into them because I'm trying hard to forgive/forget, but many of them are unforgettable and still as painful as the day they happened.
That said, on to the bests (in no particular order)!
- Veronica's birth. The birth was beautiful and nearly pain-free, our family was complete, and we had our much-longed-for little girl!
- my first semester of college. The friendships, New York City, my awesome job at Coliseum Books ... it was the stuff movies are made about.
- the years I was 9 and 10. Parents together, living in my beloved house, plenty of time for play, my mom wasn't yet too deep in the bottle - we were all pretty happy.
- 2006. I was loving having three great kids, in the best shape of my life, changed my name, had lots of friends, a good job.
Best of all, really? Is right now. New house, the ability to really try and put down roots, Lou with a job that he loves, the kids getting older and more able to do things, I've had my breast reduction, we're done having babies, and the rest of my life lays before me, ready to be written. Who could ask for anything more?
(We'll start with the worsts so as not to dwell on them.)
- the week after Lou had his heart attack in 2004. I was terrified, torn between my duties to my kids and my need to be with my husband, miserably sick myself. It was awful.
- losing Matthew. No need to elaborate there.
- incidents associated with my mother's alcoholism. I won't go into them because I'm trying hard to forgive/forget, but many of them are unforgettable and still as painful as the day they happened.
That said, on to the bests (in no particular order)!
- Veronica's birth. The birth was beautiful and nearly pain-free, our family was complete, and we had our much-longed-for little girl!
- my first semester of college. The friendships, New York City, my awesome job at Coliseum Books ... it was the stuff movies are made about.
- the years I was 9 and 10. Parents together, living in my beloved house, plenty of time for play, my mom wasn't yet too deep in the bottle - we were all pretty happy.
- 2006. I was loving having three great kids, in the best shape of my life, changed my name, had lots of friends, a good job.
Best of all, really? Is right now. New house, the ability to really try and put down roots, Lou with a job that he loves, the kids getting older and more able to do things, I've had my breast reduction, we're done having babies, and the rest of my life lays before me, ready to be written. Who could ask for anything more?
Monday, December 24, 2007
quiet Christmas Eve
This is our first with-kids Christmas that's just us - no out-of-town visitors this year. I'm looking forward to a quiet, peaceful, happy week with both the boys off school. We're hoping to catch up with the old playgroup (or members thereof) sometime this week, and the neighbors across the street are home and available for play, as well. We were restrained on gifts this year, so hopefully they'll enjoy playing with what they get without being too overwhelmed.
And here we are (mostly) settled into our new house, surrounded by beautiful snow-covered trees. As an extra Christmas bonus, the ice is melting off the driveway for the first time this month! It's so strange to live in such a rural area - no street lights, no ambient lights at all. You look out the window at bedtime and you can really understand what Clement C. Moore meant when he wrote "The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow gave a luster like midday to objects below." You look around for the light source, sure that there must be an electric light somewhere.
Everyone in the family is happy and healthy and looking forward to a good, starchy dinner later and a few presents before bed!
And here we are (mostly) settled into our new house, surrounded by beautiful snow-covered trees. As an extra Christmas bonus, the ice is melting off the driveway for the first time this month! It's so strange to live in such a rural area - no street lights, no ambient lights at all. You look out the window at bedtime and you can really understand what Clement C. Moore meant when he wrote "The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow gave a luster like midday to objects below." You look around for the light source, sure that there must be an electric light somewhere.
Everyone in the family is happy and healthy and looking forward to a good, starchy dinner later and a few presents before bed!
Friday, December 21, 2007
first of the year
This is something I saw on another blog: the first sentence of the blog for each month of the year. Might be interesting, so here goes!
January: I strongly considered doing another month-by-month set of resolutions this year.
February: I consider myself an orderly person.
March: Over the course of the last couple of months, I've reread many of the Montgomerys on my shelf.
April: 10 days, 9 nights, solidly on the road.
May: I think I may have lost count of the BR [book review] numbers at some point!
June: Today, I list things off because I genuinely am happy ... instead of, as on so many Mondays, needing to list off things to make me so!
July: Sorry about the posting gap - it's been a busy couple of weeks.
August: I'll admit, this summer has been fairly stressful.
September: Wow, I had no idea it had been so long since I'd posted!
October: Finishing up the story of my weekend!
November: Today's MOPS was a bit of a mishmash of topics - the speaker, the video, and the discussion questions all seemed to be talking on different topics, all related to the ways we use our homes.
December: Here we are, two weeks out from completing our change of house!
What can you tell from my year's worth of opening sentences? Let's see ... I don't blog often enough; I use way too many exclamation points; and my opening sentences are pretty boring. All three things to think about and work on in my blogging for the next year.
January: I strongly considered doing another month-by-month set of resolutions this year.
February: I consider myself an orderly person.
March: Over the course of the last couple of months, I've reread many of the Montgomerys on my shelf.
April: 10 days, 9 nights, solidly on the road.
May: I think I may have lost count of the BR [book review] numbers at some point!
June: Today, I list things off because I genuinely am happy ... instead of, as on so many Mondays, needing to list off things to make me so!
July: Sorry about the posting gap - it's been a busy couple of weeks.
August: I'll admit, this summer has been fairly stressful.
September: Wow, I had no idea it had been so long since I'd posted!
October: Finishing up the story of my weekend!
November: Today's MOPS was a bit of a mishmash of topics - the speaker, the video, and the discussion questions all seemed to be talking on different topics, all related to the ways we use our homes.
December: Here we are, two weeks out from completing our change of house!
What can you tell from my year's worth of opening sentences? Let's see ... I don't blog often enough; I use way too many exclamation points; and my opening sentences are pretty boring. All three things to think about and work on in my blogging for the next year.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Laura Ingalls Wilder
I've been on a big rereading kick recently, and have included several of my favorite Little House books: Farmer Boy, The Long Winter, and now Little Town on the Prairie, with These Happy Golden Years in the bullpen. Additionally, I read the Little House Cookbook, written in the '70s by a woman who made it her business to make (as realistically as possible with modern implements) many of the recipes mentioned in the books. She continually pointed out Laura's rich and detailed descriptions of all sorts of foods (especially in Farmer Boy - never read that one on an empty stomach!) and made the point that during much of Laura's childhood the food options were limited at best, positing that the meals described were the sometimes wistful focal points of a youth spent often very hungry. I've noticed, as well, that it isn't just the food. The beautiful clothes of Laura's youth, the nice things she saw and owned and used, all the little things that added grace to her life, are lovingly described in every detail. It does read very much like the story of a girl who always felt that the beautiful things in life were out of her reach, and who very much wanted those beautiful things.
Maybe that's why they have such universal appeal: they are a wonderful reminder that the love of nice things, the longing to be better looking, the deep inner struggles between what a person wants and what is best, the continual striving to be a better person are not just inventions of today. They were there yesterday, and they will be there tomorrow.
Maybe that's why they have such universal appeal: they are a wonderful reminder that the love of nice things, the longing to be better looking, the deep inner struggles between what a person wants and what is best, the continual striving to be a better person are not just inventions of today. They were there yesterday, and they will be there tomorrow.
Friday, December 14, 2007
readjustment
I have to say, I used to be quite experienced at moving to a new place. But of course, that was back when "moving" meant throwing a bunch of stuff into a car and taking a drive. No need for a truck, no real concern about things like utilities and mail delivery, and my social life was all on the computer anyway, so my perennial social ineptness wasn't so much an issue.
This time around, things are a bit different. And I find myself running into challenges that I wasn't expecting.
There's the mundane, like the ongoing issue of how to get the various mail carriers to place our packages somewhere safe that we'll a) see them before the snow soaks in and b) not run over them. The annoying, like the driveway that, once iced over, is apparently going to require full summer (and certainly not two major snowstorms) to be entirely clear.
And the same ol', same ol': friends. Only now, it's not just me who needs friends. I have to start recreating the entire web of relationships that provide my kids their socializing, as well. Over the last 5+ years, I've learned a lot about relationships between between women in specific and friendship in general. Key among the things I've learned: not to take things too personally. And to accept that these things take time. People I didn't think I'd like when I met them became people I hope to call 'friend' for the rest of my life. Wouldn't have happened if I'd listened to my first impressions.
So it's a slow process and requires a fair amount of work. You know when a bad time is for it? Right before the holidays during snowstorms and a serious cold snap. Fortunately there's school to help keep the kids entertained, and over the holidays I just have to look for gatherings of moms/kids where I can find them.
This time around, things are a bit different. And I find myself running into challenges that I wasn't expecting.
There's the mundane, like the ongoing issue of how to get the various mail carriers to place our packages somewhere safe that we'll a) see them before the snow soaks in and b) not run over them. The annoying, like the driveway that, once iced over, is apparently going to require full summer (and certainly not two major snowstorms) to be entirely clear.
And the same ol', same ol': friends. Only now, it's not just me who needs friends. I have to start recreating the entire web of relationships that provide my kids their socializing, as well. Over the last 5+ years, I've learned a lot about relationships between between women in specific and friendship in general. Key among the things I've learned: not to take things too personally. And to accept that these things take time. People I didn't think I'd like when I met them became people I hope to call 'friend' for the rest of my life. Wouldn't have happened if I'd listened to my first impressions.
So it's a slow process and requires a fair amount of work. You know when a bad time is for it? Right before the holidays during snowstorms and a serious cold snap. Fortunately there's school to help keep the kids entertained, and over the holidays I just have to look for gatherings of moms/kids where I can find them.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
first post-move blog!
Here we are, two weeks out from completing our change of house! Finally I'm feeling like I have things in hand enough to make my own projects a priority.
Things I'm working on right now include:
- developing and maintaining a cleaning/laundry schedule
- getting my family to eat at the table; creating a family dinner time; and getting my children to start broadening their food tastes
- getting back into the habit of running/stretching/exercising
- developing relationships with other moms and kids in the area
- making writing/blogging a regular part of my daily routine
- unpacking in an organized, relaxed fashion
- and the standard: getting three kids from morning to night happy, healthy, well-fed, and educated
Not to be trite, it feels like planting a tree. Digging in, working on putting down roots, creating the basis for a long and healthy growing period. For them, for me.
I need a nap.
Things I'm working on right now include:
- developing and maintaining a cleaning/laundry schedule
- getting my family to eat at the table; creating a family dinner time; and getting my children to start broadening their food tastes
- getting back into the habit of running/stretching/exercising
- developing relationships with other moms and kids in the area
- making writing/blogging a regular part of my daily routine
- unpacking in an organized, relaxed fashion
- and the standard: getting three kids from morning to night happy, healthy, well-fed, and educated
Not to be trite, it feels like planting a tree. Digging in, working on putting down roots, creating the basis for a long and healthy growing period. For them, for me.
I need a nap.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
what do you need from your home?
Today's MOPS was a bit of a mishmash of topics—the speaker, the video, and the discussion questions all seemed to be talking on different topics, all related to the ways we use our homes.
The speaker talked about "magnet homes"; wanting to be the place where all the kids hang out, so she could retain "control" over her kids' lives. Personally, I also want to be the "magnet home", but for slightly different reasons. I want to be like my mother, who was a magnetic personality (in the good times, at any rate); I want to be 'cool' for once in my life; and I want my kids to grow up seeing our home as a place they want to spend time ... because I want, when they're adults, to have kids who enjoy hanging out together and with their parents. Oh, yeah—all three are completely selfish. But the whole concept is selfish, really, since what do they want? To hang out with their friends and have fun. And let's face it, they can do that anywhere.
The video talked about customizing the uses of rooms in your home to fit your family's specific needs. I feel that we've planned for that in our new house, to make sure there's a space for everyone, but it's something to remember going forward, so no one's needs get overlooked.
Finally, the questions—the one I found most thought-provoking was, "What does each member of your family need from your home?" Because I find that my boys already need home to provide different things.
Greyson needs home to enfold him, a place to snuggle into and feel safe and 'cocooned', if you will.
Charles, on the other hand, needs home to expand until it's big enough to fit all the facets of his large personality. He needs us to be a practice field for his behaviors, to see what works and what doesn't.
Veronica needs it all, still. I think she's too young to really have specific needs based on her personality ... she continues to need a haven, an auditorium, a gymnasium, and everything else all rolled into one!
I need a sanctum. I need a place to be private, where things stay where I put them and I can have the illusion of solitude, while tucked into the bosom of my family.
For me the most interesting one is my husband. Who isn't home as often as the rest of us, and whose needs are therefore somewhat more complex. He also clearly needs a sanctum, a private space. But at the same time, he needs a space where he can romp and play with his children without other cares intruding on their time together, and we both need a space to be together.
And there's the challenge—putting all that together under one roof!
The speaker talked about "magnet homes"; wanting to be the place where all the kids hang out, so she could retain "control" over her kids' lives. Personally, I also want to be the "magnet home", but for slightly different reasons. I want to be like my mother, who was a magnetic personality (in the good times, at any rate); I want to be 'cool' for once in my life; and I want my kids to grow up seeing our home as a place they want to spend time ... because I want, when they're adults, to have kids who enjoy hanging out together and with their parents. Oh, yeah—all three are completely selfish. But the whole concept is selfish, really, since what do they want? To hang out with their friends and have fun. And let's face it, they can do that anywhere.
The video talked about customizing the uses of rooms in your home to fit your family's specific needs. I feel that we've planned for that in our new house, to make sure there's a space for everyone, but it's something to remember going forward, so no one's needs get overlooked.
Finally, the questions—the one I found most thought-provoking was, "What does each member of your family need from your home?" Because I find that my boys already need home to provide different things.
Greyson needs home to enfold him, a place to snuggle into and feel safe and 'cocooned', if you will.
Charles, on the other hand, needs home to expand until it's big enough to fit all the facets of his large personality. He needs us to be a practice field for his behaviors, to see what works and what doesn't.
Veronica needs it all, still. I think she's too young to really have specific needs based on her personality ... she continues to need a haven, an auditorium, a gymnasium, and everything else all rolled into one!
I need a sanctum. I need a place to be private, where things stay where I put them and I can have the illusion of solitude, while tucked into the bosom of my family.
For me the most interesting one is my husband. Who isn't home as often as the rest of us, and whose needs are therefore somewhat more complex. He also clearly needs a sanctum, a private space. But at the same time, he needs a space where he can romp and play with his children without other cares intruding on their time together, and we both need a space to be together.
And there's the challenge—putting all that together under one roof!
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
diet & exercise - an update
I've been keeping a food diary this week, and a few things have jumped out at me.
1. Everything I eat has sugar in it. This seems like it would be a bad habit from the weight loss standpoint!
2. I never eat breakfast.
3. We don't have a set lunchtime, and usually eat snacky/breakfasty foods as our "lunch".
I did manage to run twice this week. I'm having some issues with the treadmill track that will have to be worked on, and am really only at a moderate walk, but that built up pretty fast before so I'm not too worried. The 'running' felt good; the stretching felt great!
So my plan for the week:
Continue my food diary.
Make a conscious effort to eat fewer sugary foods.
Make a point of eating breakfast every day (even if it does have sugar!).
Start tracking my liquid consumption by volume again.
Run at least twice.
Stretch every day.
1. Everything I eat has sugar in it. This seems like it would be a bad habit from the weight loss standpoint!
2. I never eat breakfast.
3. We don't have a set lunchtime, and usually eat snacky/breakfasty foods as our "lunch".
I did manage to run twice this week. I'm having some issues with the treadmill track that will have to be worked on, and am really only at a moderate walk, but that built up pretty fast before so I'm not too worried. The 'running' felt good; the stretching felt great!
So my plan for the week:
Continue my food diary.
Make a conscious effort to eat fewer sugary foods.
Make a point of eating breakfast every day (even if it does have sugar!).
Start tracking my liquid consumption by volume again.
Run at least twice.
Stretch every day.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
mature enough to appreciate
Once I wrote to my aunt that I wished I had been "old enough and mature enough" to have really appreciated my grandmother and my great-aunt while they were alive. Her response was that she also wishes she had been "old enough and mature enough" to have appreciated them. The response startled me, and I think about it often as I contemplate opportunities missed/lost/not appreciated enough.
I thought of it again yesterday as I walked through the streets of Salem, hand in hand with my toddler. I've never done that before, just gone somewhere to take a walk with one of my kids. I've always been "too busy," too much in a hurry. And I thought as I watched her look around at things, saw the joy she took in patting a post or playing with a chain-link-fence—why couldn't I have done this with my first? I had nothing but time, just one child to care for, and nowhere I had to be. No schedule, hard as that is to believe.
But the truth is, I wasn't that kind of person then. I was highly stressed, terrified of being a mother, didn't know what I was doing, and was so wrapped up in all of it that I hadn't spent any time growing as a person. Left to myself at that point, I don't think I would have chosen to take a walk, much less to take one with my child in tow!
I think what it comes down to is not that I'm sorry for opportunities that I missed, but sorry that I couldn't have been this person at that time, to have made the opportunities. And in a larger sense, that's a good thing. Because it means that I'm becoming a better, more interesting person all the time. I wonder in 10 years what I'll wish I had been "mature enough" to appreciate now.
I thought of it again yesterday as I walked through the streets of Salem, hand in hand with my toddler. I've never done that before, just gone somewhere to take a walk with one of my kids. I've always been "too busy," too much in a hurry. And I thought as I watched her look around at things, saw the joy she took in patting a post or playing with a chain-link-fence—why couldn't I have done this with my first? I had nothing but time, just one child to care for, and nowhere I had to be. No schedule, hard as that is to believe.
But the truth is, I wasn't that kind of person then. I was highly stressed, terrified of being a mother, didn't know what I was doing, and was so wrapped up in all of it that I hadn't spent any time growing as a person. Left to myself at that point, I don't think I would have chosen to take a walk, much less to take one with my child in tow!
I think what it comes down to is not that I'm sorry for opportunities that I missed, but sorry that I couldn't have been this person at that time, to have made the opportunities. And in a larger sense, that's a good thing. Because it means that I'm becoming a better, more interesting person all the time. I wonder in 10 years what I'll wish I had been "mature enough" to appreciate now.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
random thoughts
I MISS MY BOOKS! I don't know how many times in the last couple of weeks I've started to look for a book (seeing in my head exactly where it belongs on the shelf) only to remember that it's in a box somewhere.
Ran today for the first time in a long while (although not quite "four years", which is what Greyson accused me of!). I'm way out of shape, no surprise there, but it felt good. And the stretching felt great!
My desk is a disaster and needs to make it to the top of my to-do list.
I have way too much to do.
Only 17 more pick-ups from Greyson's school! Wahoo! I set up a tour of his new school for next week, and will hopefully get the whole scoop on the busing then. I need to finish his paperwork and Charles's so I can take both of those with me and drop them off. Grey will have to miss a day of school, but so be it. I can't work a whole trip out to Andover around two different school schedules.
Organization. Need more of it!
Now to work, to make sure I tape Kitchen Nightmares, and to try and make sure my children actually go to sleep.
Ran today for the first time in a long while (although not quite "four years", which is what Greyson accused me of!). I'm way out of shape, no surprise there, but it felt good. And the stretching felt great!
My desk is a disaster and needs to make it to the top of my to-do list.
I have way too much to do.
Only 17 more pick-ups from Greyson's school! Wahoo! I set up a tour of his new school for next week, and will hopefully get the whole scoop on the busing then. I need to finish his paperwork and Charles's so I can take both of those with me and drop them off. Grey will have to miss a day of school, but so be it. I can't work a whole trip out to Andover around two different school schedules.
Organization. Need more of it!
Now to work, to make sure I tape Kitchen Nightmares, and to try and make sure my children actually go to sleep.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
diet & exercise
These categories are near the top of the "works in progress" list that often seems to be my life. After my surgery I really fell off the running/working out wagon—first because I was too scared it would hurt, then because Veronica's increasing mobility made her a hazard around the treadmill, then simply because I was out of the habit and too lazy to get back into it. Diet habits I've never managed to instill in myself, and to be honest most of my attempts have been half-hearted at best. (I suspect there's a correlation there!) Then once we listed the house, it became an easy mantra. "Once we've sold the house ....", "Once we've moved ..."
Now, really. Do I honestly think that in the midst of settling into the new house, getting the kids comfortable in their new schools, finding entirely new social networks, and having to find everything from the grocery store on up anew ... I'll magically have MORE time than I do now? Sure, it's nice to think that once we've moved I can leave the old bad habits behind, but I fell into that trap more than once in my "grass is greener" days. And it doesn't work as well as a vivid imagination may paint! Some things I can change. For example, moving the dining room table to a more prominent place will help us start eating together and stop eating in front of the TV. Better for family togetherness, and also better for getting the kids to eat what's on their plate. It's not as easy to turn up your nose when mealtime is a 'formal' occasion.
But on a personal level I cannot count on the new house to be my motivator. So with that in mind ... my goals for this week: keep track of everything I eat so I have a better idea of what's actually being consumed, pay much closer attention to my liquid intake, and try to run at least twice.
Now, really. Do I honestly think that in the midst of settling into the new house, getting the kids comfortable in their new schools, finding entirely new social networks, and having to find everything from the grocery store on up anew ... I'll magically have MORE time than I do now? Sure, it's nice to think that once we've moved I can leave the old bad habits behind, but I fell into that trap more than once in my "grass is greener" days. And it doesn't work as well as a vivid imagination may paint! Some things I can change. For example, moving the dining room table to a more prominent place will help us start eating together and stop eating in front of the TV. Better for family togetherness, and also better for getting the kids to eat what's on their plate. It's not as easy to turn up your nose when mealtime is a 'formal' occasion.
But on a personal level I cannot count on the new house to be my motivator. So with that in mind ... my goals for this week: keep track of everything I eat so I have a better idea of what's actually being consumed, pay much closer attention to my liquid intake, and try to run at least twice.
Monday, October 22, 2007
5 things that make me happy, V
For a Monday, today was a pretty good day. If my daughter would learn to use words instead of tantrums, it would have been a very nice day!
1. the sounds of the washing machine and dishwasher. For some reason, both machines just sound homey and make me feel productive. The smell and sound of the dryer can go along with this one, as well.
2. pastry. Cakes, ice cream, cookies, cupcakes, pie, doughnuts, you name it. Not necessarily in a "had a bad day, let's eat a pound cake" way, but more in a "wow, this really hits the spot" way. For now, we won't dwell on the dietary implications or the need to start eating like an adult!
3. TV shows. Specifically this week, Cold Case and K-Ville. Even when there are large plot holes, I love watching the characters unfold and the stories have a mystique about them.
4. my books. Having to pack them all away has made me realize how much I love various titles—some of them are the closest link I have with my personal past, and my love of the books and characters is flavored with my love of the people and places that were around when I first read them. And I've given myself the gift of rereading a number of old favorites, which is like a spa day for the brain!
5. my job. Today I've been delving into 100 pages of book reviews for a historical journal I work on. I feel so cutting-edge, reading about the latest in historical scholarship, I enjoy the tidbits of history that work themselves into the reviews, and I love to get the scoop on new books to buy. (Not that I have time to read them once I buy them, or space to put the unread books, but that's beside today's point!)
1. the sounds of the washing machine and dishwasher. For some reason, both machines just sound homey and make me feel productive. The smell and sound of the dryer can go along with this one, as well.
2. pastry. Cakes, ice cream, cookies, cupcakes, pie, doughnuts, you name it. Not necessarily in a "had a bad day, let's eat a pound cake" way, but more in a "wow, this really hits the spot" way. For now, we won't dwell on the dietary implications or the need to start eating like an adult!
3. TV shows. Specifically this week, Cold Case and K-Ville. Even when there are large plot holes, I love watching the characters unfold and the stories have a mystique about them.
4. my books. Having to pack them all away has made me realize how much I love various titles—some of them are the closest link I have with my personal past, and my love of the books and characters is flavored with my love of the people and places that were around when I first read them. And I've given myself the gift of rereading a number of old favorites, which is like a spa day for the brain!
5. my job. Today I've been delving into 100 pages of book reviews for a historical journal I work on. I feel so cutting-edge, reading about the latest in historical scholarship, I enjoy the tidbits of history that work themselves into the reviews, and I love to get the scoop on new books to buy. (Not that I have time to read them once I buy them, or space to put the unread books, but that's beside today's point!)
Sunday, October 21, 2007
clutter vs. mess
Before we put our house on the market, I admit the stuff used to get to me. Piles everywhere, things waiting to be given away, projects waiting to be finished—it was a bit of chaos. Then we cleaned. Packed all the "unnecessary" things away for a less "lived-in" feel. And I hated that even more. Without all my belongings—the pictures on every inch of wall, the bookshelves in every room—I no longer felt like this was my space. It was more like being a caretaker for the future owners.
Fortunately for me, my other half feels the same way. I can only imagine what it would be like if one of us liked the old way, with all the stuff, and the other liked the new way, with nothing.
But I wouldn't want to go completely back to the whole catastrophe, with the unfinished, un-put-away things all over the place. That's the kind of thing that gets you down when you come home to it. (I say this, with piles of paper spread out all over my desk. But I think desks have different rules.) This my other half doesn't care so much about. Unsurprisingly.
At any rate, I think what it comes down to is that I deeply miss my clutter, but I am happy to be living without my mess.
Fortunately for me, my other half feels the same way. I can only imagine what it would be like if one of us liked the old way, with all the stuff, and the other liked the new way, with nothing.
But I wouldn't want to go completely back to the whole catastrophe, with the unfinished, un-put-away things all over the place. That's the kind of thing that gets you down when you come home to it. (I say this, with piles of paper spread out all over my desk. But I think desks have different rules.) This my other half doesn't care so much about. Unsurprisingly.
At any rate, I think what it comes down to is that I deeply miss my clutter, but I am happy to be living without my mess.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
disappointment, parenting, and my mother
This morning's MOPS was about the subtle ways that parents instill morals, values, and general good behavior in their children. The questions afterward were about our parents: what they had done to give us good morals (or not, as the case might be). I found them difficult to answer—the process is so gradual that it's hard to point to one thing.
As I thought about it, I remembered my mother boasting about how sharply honed my conscience was that I would start to cry after having done wrong before she even had to say anything. Of course, that was an extremely self-congratulatory stance, and the truth I think was a bit different. The truth was that I was really frightened of disappointing my mother. And I realized as I sat at the table at MOPS this morning that I am still frightened of disappointing people and making them upset with me. From the person waiting behind me to turn into the grocery store parking lot, whose presence makes me turn before I want to because I don't want to be seen as holding up traffic, to the people I'm closest to, it makes me feel sick to my stomach to imagine that I've upset someone, and it unsettles most of my day.
The worst of it is that this fear is carrying over into my parenting. Last night, I was an incredible shrew to my children because they kept jumping on the beds and running around in the furniture store we were at. No one else cared that much (including the salesman), and my attitude stressed out my children and my husband and made the situation much more tense and unpleasant than it had to have been ... and even worse, it was a waste of my authority. Because next time, when I'm speaking strictly about something that is really important, I will have a little less clout, having used up so much of it uselessly last night to keep them 'behaving' in public. Which they didn't do. And all so that my children didn't cause me to get in trouble with the store for letting them climb on the display beds! What an incredibly selfish reason to be angry at them.
It would be nice if this realization could help me create a less stressful parenting environment when out in public with my children. Any kind of experience out with them makes me feel a little tense just in contemplation ... and I spend increasing amounts of my time out with them.
As I thought about it, I remembered my mother boasting about how sharply honed my conscience was that I would start to cry after having done wrong before she even had to say anything. Of course, that was an extremely self-congratulatory stance, and the truth I think was a bit different. The truth was that I was really frightened of disappointing my mother. And I realized as I sat at the table at MOPS this morning that I am still frightened of disappointing people and making them upset with me. From the person waiting behind me to turn into the grocery store parking lot, whose presence makes me turn before I want to because I don't want to be seen as holding up traffic, to the people I'm closest to, it makes me feel sick to my stomach to imagine that I've upset someone, and it unsettles most of my day.
The worst of it is that this fear is carrying over into my parenting. Last night, I was an incredible shrew to my children because they kept jumping on the beds and running around in the furniture store we were at. No one else cared that much (including the salesman), and my attitude stressed out my children and my husband and made the situation much more tense and unpleasant than it had to have been ... and even worse, it was a waste of my authority. Because next time, when I'm speaking strictly about something that is really important, I will have a little less clout, having used up so much of it uselessly last night to keep them 'behaving' in public. Which they didn't do. And all so that my children didn't cause me to get in trouble with the store for letting them climb on the display beds! What an incredibly selfish reason to be angry at them.
It would be nice if this realization could help me create a less stressful parenting environment when out in public with my children. Any kind of experience out with them makes me feel a little tense just in contemplation ... and I spend increasing amounts of my time out with them.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
book review
I've been on a big rereading of old favorites kick recently, but I have finished a few new books, and I must report them so they can go in a box along with the rest of the library!
Alan Alda, Never Have Your Dog Stuffed. My opinion of M*A*S*H and all the actors therefrom continues to rise, so I picked this up and am so glad I did. It was really just witty and fun and interesting and deep, and in general had a lot to say on many different topics. Well worth the read.
Robert Knox Sneden, Images from the Storm. Sneden was a cartographer in the Civil War, and not only kept a journal of his experiences but also published many of his drawings in the years after the war. Overall, an interesting pictorial journey through the war.
Howard Fast, The Crossing. I had seen the excellent adaptation of this book by A&E, starring Jeff Daniels as George Washington. The book is entirely different from the TV movie, but still a very excellent read, and possibly even more interesting.
Armistead Maupin, Michael Tolliver Lives. I'm conflicted about this one. I've read the full Tales of the City series and love them, although I find they get darker as they go along. So I read this one with a bit of trepidation. And it is darker ... but lighter ... and very much politicized ... and the characters are almost strangers. Except that you would have to expect them to be strangers, since it's 20+ years since the end of the last book. I can't decide if I liked it or not.
Erle Stanley Gardner, Case of the Mythical Monkeys. This one was okay. Interesting premise, kind of, but a little too glib, I guess.
Paul Harvey's The Rest of the Story. This was a compilation of Paul Harvey's bits, where he tells the story and then only at the end do you find out who it's about. Some of them have been disproven or are out of date in other ways (the book was published in 1977!), but many of the stories remain interesting.
Archibald Gracie and John B. Thayer, Titanic: A Survivor's Story and The Sinking of the S.S. Titanic. Gracie's book was amazing, especially when you consider it was written by a civilian. So detailed, with a listing of the (first-class) occupants of every lifeboat and an attempt at a thorough telling of each lifeboat's story. Thayer's was more confined to his own experiences, but in both cases the story was well worth reading.
Alan Alda, Never Have Your Dog Stuffed. My opinion of M*A*S*H and all the actors therefrom continues to rise, so I picked this up and am so glad I did. It was really just witty and fun and interesting and deep, and in general had a lot to say on many different topics. Well worth the read.
Robert Knox Sneden, Images from the Storm. Sneden was a cartographer in the Civil War, and not only kept a journal of his experiences but also published many of his drawings in the years after the war. Overall, an interesting pictorial journey through the war.
Howard Fast, The Crossing. I had seen the excellent adaptation of this book by A&E, starring Jeff Daniels as George Washington. The book is entirely different from the TV movie, but still a very excellent read, and possibly even more interesting.
Armistead Maupin, Michael Tolliver Lives. I'm conflicted about this one. I've read the full Tales of the City series and love them, although I find they get darker as they go along. So I read this one with a bit of trepidation. And it is darker ... but lighter ... and very much politicized ... and the characters are almost strangers. Except that you would have to expect them to be strangers, since it's 20+ years since the end of the last book. I can't decide if I liked it or not.
Erle Stanley Gardner, Case of the Mythical Monkeys. This one was okay. Interesting premise, kind of, but a little too glib, I guess.
Paul Harvey's The Rest of the Story. This was a compilation of Paul Harvey's bits, where he tells the story and then only at the end do you find out who it's about. Some of them have been disproven or are out of date in other ways (the book was published in 1977!), but many of the stories remain interesting.
Archibald Gracie and John B. Thayer, Titanic: A Survivor's Story and The Sinking of the S.S. Titanic. Gracie's book was amazing, especially when you consider it was written by a civilian. So detailed, with a listing of the (first-class) occupants of every lifeboat and an attempt at a thorough telling of each lifeboat's story. Thayer's was more confined to his own experiences, but in both cases the story was well worth reading.
Friday, October 05, 2007
a weekend in Plymouth - Day 3
Finishing up the story of my weekend! Hopefully I can remember everything I did. :)
So I got up that Sunday and hung around my hotel room, packing and channel-surfing and reading, until check-out time. Then I went to breakfast at a little place on the main drag where last year I had the best breakfast ever. This year (cinnamon French toast) fell a bit short of "best ever", but was still darned good.
I figured I had done everything I wanted to do in Plymouth at that point, and decided to spend the rest of the day in one of my new favorite places—the Minuteman National Park in Lexington. Now, I'm not usually the outdoorsy type, but somehow that place just feels right. Hard to explain, really.
I drove up to Lexington and stopped at a nice spot in the Minuteman. I found a place that was peaceful and quiet, and lay down under a tree for a while, reading Anne Rivers Siddons's Heartbreak Hotel. After a while, I thought I'd drive into downtown Lexington and find somewhere to eat lunch. But on the way, I spied a sign saying there were living history exhibits going on in the Minuteman, so I stopped immediately and went to this tavern (which I've forgotten the name of) where two park rangers were doing demonstrations of loading and firing a flintlock musket. I hung around for quite a while, chatting with both the rangers, until it was definitely time to go if I was going to eat before I had to head back home. So I stopped on a rock to check in at home. Once I'd hung up, I started back toward the car, reaching into my pocket for the keys. Which weren't there. And weren't in my purse. Now, I have a very bad habit of stuffing my keys into my hip pocket and letting half of them dangle out. Which works fine for my set, since I have about 10 different keys and key-rings, so there's no way I could miss it if they fell out ... but Lou's set has only three items on it, and clearly worked its way out of my pocket. Which meant it could have been on the ground anywhere in the vicinity. So I started retracing my steps. Not wanting to disrupt the musket demonstration by looking for my keys around the benches, I paused next to the other ranger, waiting for the end of the presentation, and explained the problem to her. She went looking for the keys, couldn't find them, and we went into the tavern for pencil and paper so I could give her my cell phone number, in case someone turned them in. As the ranger left the building I could hear her mutter, half to herself and half to me, "Now I'm looking for car keys everywhere!" A tourist standing in the room said, "Car keys?" The ranger explained, and the tourist said she'd seen a set on the top of a sign near the parking lot. Of course, I took off sprinting (learning to my chagrin exactly how out of shape I am!), and they were my keys. Whew!
From there, I had a nice lunch in a Chinese restaurant in Plymouth, some ice cream, and a really tasty butterscotch mocha, and headed home. Where everyone was happy to see me!
So I got up that Sunday and hung around my hotel room, packing and channel-surfing and reading, until check-out time. Then I went to breakfast at a little place on the main drag where last year I had the best breakfast ever. This year (cinnamon French toast) fell a bit short of "best ever", but was still darned good.
I figured I had done everything I wanted to do in Plymouth at that point, and decided to spend the rest of the day in one of my new favorite places—the Minuteman National Park in Lexington. Now, I'm not usually the outdoorsy type, but somehow that place just feels right. Hard to explain, really.
I drove up to Lexington and stopped at a nice spot in the Minuteman. I found a place that was peaceful and quiet, and lay down under a tree for a while, reading Anne Rivers Siddons's Heartbreak Hotel. After a while, I thought I'd drive into downtown Lexington and find somewhere to eat lunch. But on the way, I spied a sign saying there were living history exhibits going on in the Minuteman, so I stopped immediately and went to this tavern (which I've forgotten the name of) where two park rangers were doing demonstrations of loading and firing a flintlock musket. I hung around for quite a while, chatting with both the rangers, until it was definitely time to go if I was going to eat before I had to head back home. So I stopped on a rock to check in at home. Once I'd hung up, I started back toward the car, reaching into my pocket for the keys. Which weren't there. And weren't in my purse. Now, I have a very bad habit of stuffing my keys into my hip pocket and letting half of them dangle out. Which works fine for my set, since I have about 10 different keys and key-rings, so there's no way I could miss it if they fell out ... but Lou's set has only three items on it, and clearly worked its way out of my pocket. Which meant it could have been on the ground anywhere in the vicinity. So I started retracing my steps. Not wanting to disrupt the musket demonstration by looking for my keys around the benches, I paused next to the other ranger, waiting for the end of the presentation, and explained the problem to her. She went looking for the keys, couldn't find them, and we went into the tavern for pencil and paper so I could give her my cell phone number, in case someone turned them in. As the ranger left the building I could hear her mutter, half to herself and half to me, "Now I'm looking for car keys everywhere!" A tourist standing in the room said, "Car keys?" The ranger explained, and the tourist said she'd seen a set on the top of a sign near the parking lot. Of course, I took off sprinting (learning to my chagrin exactly how out of shape I am!), and they were my keys. Whew!
From there, I had a nice lunch in a Chinese restaurant in Plymouth, some ice cream, and a really tasty butterscotch mocha, and headed home. Where everyone was happy to see me!
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
a weekend in Plymouth - Day 2
You'd think I would sleep in while away—no children to wake me up, no schedules to keep, etc. But I rarely do. Partially the uncomfortableness of the hotel bed, and partially that the touristy kind of stuff I like to do closes early, so you have to get up and at 'em or you miss something!
So on Saturday I got up and went next door to Carmen's Cafe Nicole and had Bananas Foster French toast. The sauce had a teeny bit too much salt, but other than that WOW! Quite a way to start a morning! After that I walked down to the Brewster Gardens (just as lovely in daylight) and followed the river up to the Jenney Grist Mill. That visit will have to be a different post, as I have to say that was the most interesting and informative living history exhibit I've ever been to. Which is saying something! So more on that tomorrow.
After the tour was done, I bought some maple popcorn to take home to the kids (we ate it last night and it was awesome!) and a photo card to write a letter to my Aunt Sarah. From there, I went on into downtown Plymouth, walking and shopping. In a little art gallery type place I picked up a wooden spoon and wooden "toaster tongs" for Lou. I stopped into the restored courthouse for a moment, looking at the exhibits. Most interesting were the framed page from a 1985 sign-in sheet with Mick Jagger's signature, and a letter from some man who had taken a piece of gravestone from Burial Hill (Plymouth's oldest cemetery) and was returning it, with dark hints that it had caused a curse to fall upon his life. I wished he'd written again to say whether returning the stone had helped.
I bought a couple of books from a used bookstore, grabbed a mocha and a French toast bagel at Kiskadee Coffee, and then headed back for my car and drove to Plimoth Plantation. I did some random driving around the area, as well, looking at the interesting houses. Finally parked and went into Plimoth Plantation. I don't have a lot of stories, as I tend to be a little intimidated by role-players and living history interpreters. Don't ask me why, except that possibly because I would like nothing better than to be one I look on them as role models? Ah, well. So I walked down to the Wampanoag homestead and looked around, managing to bonk my shoulder on the low doorframe of one of the lodges. Highly embarrassing. Then around the walk and up the stairs to Plimoth, stopping on the way to sit on a shady bench and read some of Archibald Gracie's TITANIC: A Survivor's Story. Plimoth was toasty warm—everyone was sitting outside, having left half-prepared foods sitting out in all the buildings. I looked carefully at the garden plots. Half the raised beds were surrounded with rocks, half with boards. Boards looked more efficient—they would hold in more good soil and kept the garden higher off the ground. I also noticed that the buildings stayed surprisingly cool on the inside, despite the warmth outside. It was a nice breezy day, though, and the doors were all open, so that may have been why.
I stopped off in the gift shop, picking up some teas, some apple butter, a bread mix for Lou, and stuffed animals for the kids. (Most moms I know don't want stuffed animals because you get so many of them and they clutter up the house ... but I like them because the kids are always genuinely delighted with them and they seem to get played with longer than other toys.) On the way back I stopped in at the local art show. There was some really nice work, and very few things that looked like the work of someone's kindergartener, so it was worth going to.
Then I drove back to the hotel and took a break for a few minutes. Got a start on my letter to my aunt (which I still haven't finished, bad me), and read some more of Jo's Boys, only to discover that the hardcover version I had (and which had replaced my paperback) was abridged! Entire chapters—often the ones most packed with Alcott's best character work—were missing! I was astounded and displeased. Especially since I was halfway through and really wanted to finish it.
So I put the book back in my bag and took the Titanic book (a double volume of Gracie's and young Jack Thayer's reminiscences) with me to dinner. I went to the Hearth'n'Kettle. Had some really great spring rolls as appetizers, then an entirely forgettable chicken potpie (the mashed potatoes and puff pastry both tasted just plain odd), and a lovely Indian pudding for dessert. Yum. I wish I'd skipped the potpie and had the spicy gingerbread cake instead! Then I'd have had room for both desserts.
After dinner I hiked up Burial Hill and sat on a bench and called home. Lovely view and just such a beautiful, peaceful spot. By the time I got back down to the street my hotel was on it was dark, so I figured I'd head back up to Borders and look for the Alcott book. Of course, they didn't carry it. Next nearest Borders? Braintree, 28 miles away. So I went. All the way back up 3 to the Borders. Which, again, didn't carry it. But coincidentally the nearest Barnes & Noble to Plymouth was also in Braintree, so I went there next and they did have the book. Whew! What can I say, it was a compulsion to finish it if I could. Went back to Plymouth, and was going to head for a cafe I'd seen that advertised itself as being open until 1 am. Well, if it was, it hid it thoroughly. Instead I opted for doughnuts and hot tea from Dunkin Donuts. Went back to my room, finished Jo's Boys and the Titanic book, watched the second episode of Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: Making the Team 2 (which I had TiVoed at home), and went to sleep. Ahh!
So on Saturday I got up and went next door to Carmen's Cafe Nicole and had Bananas Foster French toast. The sauce had a teeny bit too much salt, but other than that WOW! Quite a way to start a morning! After that I walked down to the Brewster Gardens (just as lovely in daylight) and followed the river up to the Jenney Grist Mill. That visit will have to be a different post, as I have to say that was the most interesting and informative living history exhibit I've ever been to. Which is saying something! So more on that tomorrow.
After the tour was done, I bought some maple popcorn to take home to the kids (we ate it last night and it was awesome!) and a photo card to write a letter to my Aunt Sarah. From there, I went on into downtown Plymouth, walking and shopping. In a little art gallery type place I picked up a wooden spoon and wooden "toaster tongs" for Lou. I stopped into the restored courthouse for a moment, looking at the exhibits. Most interesting were the framed page from a 1985 sign-in sheet with Mick Jagger's signature, and a letter from some man who had taken a piece of gravestone from Burial Hill (Plymouth's oldest cemetery) and was returning it, with dark hints that it had caused a curse to fall upon his life. I wished he'd written again to say whether returning the stone had helped.
I bought a couple of books from a used bookstore, grabbed a mocha and a French toast bagel at Kiskadee Coffee, and then headed back for my car and drove to Plimoth Plantation. I did some random driving around the area, as well, looking at the interesting houses. Finally parked and went into Plimoth Plantation. I don't have a lot of stories, as I tend to be a little intimidated by role-players and living history interpreters. Don't ask me why, except that possibly because I would like nothing better than to be one I look on them as role models? Ah, well. So I walked down to the Wampanoag homestead and looked around, managing to bonk my shoulder on the low doorframe of one of the lodges. Highly embarrassing. Then around the walk and up the stairs to Plimoth, stopping on the way to sit on a shady bench and read some of Archibald Gracie's TITANIC: A Survivor's Story. Plimoth was toasty warm—everyone was sitting outside, having left half-prepared foods sitting out in all the buildings. I looked carefully at the garden plots. Half the raised beds were surrounded with rocks, half with boards. Boards looked more efficient—they would hold in more good soil and kept the garden higher off the ground. I also noticed that the buildings stayed surprisingly cool on the inside, despite the warmth outside. It was a nice breezy day, though, and the doors were all open, so that may have been why.
I stopped off in the gift shop, picking up some teas, some apple butter, a bread mix for Lou, and stuffed animals for the kids. (Most moms I know don't want stuffed animals because you get so many of them and they clutter up the house ... but I like them because the kids are always genuinely delighted with them and they seem to get played with longer than other toys.) On the way back I stopped in at the local art show. There was some really nice work, and very few things that looked like the work of someone's kindergartener, so it was worth going to.
Then I drove back to the hotel and took a break for a few minutes. Got a start on my letter to my aunt (which I still haven't finished, bad me), and read some more of Jo's Boys, only to discover that the hardcover version I had (and which had replaced my paperback) was abridged! Entire chapters—often the ones most packed with Alcott's best character work—were missing! I was astounded and displeased. Especially since I was halfway through and really wanted to finish it.
So I put the book back in my bag and took the Titanic book (a double volume of Gracie's and young Jack Thayer's reminiscences) with me to dinner. I went to the Hearth'n'Kettle. Had some really great spring rolls as appetizers, then an entirely forgettable chicken potpie (the mashed potatoes and puff pastry both tasted just plain odd), and a lovely Indian pudding for dessert. Yum. I wish I'd skipped the potpie and had the spicy gingerbread cake instead! Then I'd have had room for both desserts.
After dinner I hiked up Burial Hill and sat on a bench and called home. Lovely view and just such a beautiful, peaceful spot. By the time I got back down to the street my hotel was on it was dark, so I figured I'd head back up to Borders and look for the Alcott book. Of course, they didn't carry it. Next nearest Borders? Braintree, 28 miles away. So I went. All the way back up 3 to the Borders. Which, again, didn't carry it. But coincidentally the nearest Barnes & Noble to Plymouth was also in Braintree, so I went there next and they did have the book. Whew! What can I say, it was a compulsion to finish it if I could. Went back to Plymouth, and was going to head for a cafe I'd seen that advertised itself as being open until 1 am. Well, if it was, it hid it thoroughly. Instead I opted for doughnuts and hot tea from Dunkin Donuts. Went back to my room, finished Jo's Boys and the Titanic book, watched the second episode of Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: Making the Team 2 (which I had TiVoed at home), and went to sleep. Ahh!
Monday, September 24, 2007
a weekend in Plymouth - Day 1
Wow, I had no idea it had been so long since I'd posted! I blame my crazy schedule ... but I think it really comes down to the fact that over the summer I've let a lot of things go that I was doing just for me—running, writing, putting my clothes together with care and trying to look my best, etc. With a move in two months and my house still on the market, it doesn't seem like the right time to be trying to recover my routines in that area, but I ask you—when would be a good time? So no time like the present, and all that.
This past weekend, I went away on my twice-yearly "Mommy's weekend off". I went to Plymouth (Mass.), which I fell in love with on my first visit last year. And since I suspect my better half wonders just what it is I do with myself, here goes what I did the first day.
I left Beverly around 2:30. My FIL was with the kids, who were about to take a nap. I hopped in Lou's car and started off. The GPS system took me down Rte. 1 south, which cost a $3 toll! Shockingly high, IMO. And then onto 93, where I started the stop-and-go Friday afternoon traffic that took me all the way down 3 to Plymouth. Needless to say, when I arrived I was tired of driving!
I checked into my hotel, the lovely old Governor Bradford on the Harbor. Once I'd gotten settled in, I took a walk down the road. The main harborside drag is pretty filled with tourists, especially on a lovely weekend like this one, and offers an awesome opportunity to play the license plate game. All weekend, I saw license plates from a total of 37 states and four provinces. Including Saskatchewan, which is very rare. Virginia drivers were out in force (so many that I wondered if Jamestown and Plymouth have a package deal in this year of Jamestown's quadricentennial), and I saw a surprising number of Washington and Nevada plates, as well.
Since I'd arrived before all the shops closed, I did some shopping in the Village Center Shoppes (or some such name). Didn't buy anything, but was tempted by the "Thou Shalt Not Whine" wooden sign in the old-time script. I did pick up some maple candy and a book on Thanksgiving for the kids, and a hanging fairy for Veronica's birthday, at the Cranberry House. It goes with the one I got her at Ishtar's Avalon, also in Plymouth, last year. She'll get them when she's older and less likely to break them!
Then I had dinner, overlooking the harbor, at the Weathervane. Service was iffy, the crab cakes were expensive and a bit undercooked, and the fish and chips were good, but a little overpowering. The fish was just a big breaded slab on the plate. An odd presentation, I thought.
After dinner, I did some more walking while I still had the light. This time I actually managed to walk past Plymouth Rock. Poor thing, it made me feel sad for it, there in its carefully constructed box where no rain or sun can ever get at it. And I discovered Brewster Gardens, which are just beautiful! Right along the river, and really lovely.
By this point it was dark, so I hopped back in the car and headed back up a couple of exits on the highway, to Independence Mall. Frankly, I thought it had gone downhill since last year. There were lots and lots of teens and preteens, but it seemed like less than last year, and there seemed to be fewer stores. And the ones that were there had a lot less character. Specifically, I noticed the really cool big unique toy store was gone, and a couple of other stores that I had enjoyed last year as well. While there, I stopped in at Brigham's and had a Monkey Business sundae. (Think banana split with peanut butter sauce.) It was okay, but I think the strawberry shortcake poundcake would have been better. I wound up at Borders, where I got two Halloween books for the boys and a cinnamon latte for me (a very good one!).
Went back to the hotel and spent the rest of the night reading The Long Winter and starting on my hardcover copy of Jo's Boys (more on that tomorrow), and flipping channels. And so ended my first day of vacation!
This past weekend, I went away on my twice-yearly "Mommy's weekend off". I went to Plymouth (Mass.), which I fell in love with on my first visit last year. And since I suspect my better half wonders just what it is I do with myself, here goes what I did the first day.
I left Beverly around 2:30. My FIL was with the kids, who were about to take a nap. I hopped in Lou's car and started off. The GPS system took me down Rte. 1 south, which cost a $3 toll! Shockingly high, IMO. And then onto 93, where I started the stop-and-go Friday afternoon traffic that took me all the way down 3 to Plymouth. Needless to say, when I arrived I was tired of driving!
I checked into my hotel, the lovely old Governor Bradford on the Harbor. Once I'd gotten settled in, I took a walk down the road. The main harborside drag is pretty filled with tourists, especially on a lovely weekend like this one, and offers an awesome opportunity to play the license plate game. All weekend, I saw license plates from a total of 37 states and four provinces. Including Saskatchewan, which is very rare. Virginia drivers were out in force (so many that I wondered if Jamestown and Plymouth have a package deal in this year of Jamestown's quadricentennial), and I saw a surprising number of Washington and Nevada plates, as well.
Since I'd arrived before all the shops closed, I did some shopping in the Village Center Shoppes (or some such name). Didn't buy anything, but was tempted by the "Thou Shalt Not Whine" wooden sign in the old-time script. I did pick up some maple candy and a book on Thanksgiving for the kids, and a hanging fairy for Veronica's birthday, at the Cranberry House. It goes with the one I got her at Ishtar's Avalon, also in Plymouth, last year. She'll get them when she's older and less likely to break them!
Then I had dinner, overlooking the harbor, at the Weathervane. Service was iffy, the crab cakes were expensive and a bit undercooked, and the fish and chips were good, but a little overpowering. The fish was just a big breaded slab on the plate. An odd presentation, I thought.
After dinner, I did some more walking while I still had the light. This time I actually managed to walk past Plymouth Rock. Poor thing, it made me feel sad for it, there in its carefully constructed box where no rain or sun can ever get at it. And I discovered Brewster Gardens, which are just beautiful! Right along the river, and really lovely.
By this point it was dark, so I hopped back in the car and headed back up a couple of exits on the highway, to Independence Mall. Frankly, I thought it had gone downhill since last year. There were lots and lots of teens and preteens, but it seemed like less than last year, and there seemed to be fewer stores. And the ones that were there had a lot less character. Specifically, I noticed the really cool big unique toy store was gone, and a couple of other stores that I had enjoyed last year as well. While there, I stopped in at Brigham's and had a Monkey Business sundae. (Think banana split with peanut butter sauce.) It was okay, but I think the strawberry shortcake poundcake would have been better. I wound up at Borders, where I got two Halloween books for the boys and a cinnamon latte for me (a very good one!).
Went back to the hotel and spent the rest of the night reading The Long Winter and starting on my hardcover copy of Jo's Boys (more on that tomorrow), and flipping channels. And so ended my first day of vacation!
Thursday, August 23, 2007
book blog
Sorry to have been silent so long! Putting a house on the market does take the energy out of a person. As do the constant whinings of three small very bored children. When does school start again?
I've actually gotten through a surprising number of books, though, for all that. Starting with:
Noble Brutes: Camels on the American Frontier, by Eva Jolene Boyd. A history of the ill-starred camel experiment of the mid-nineteenth century. Then-Secretary of War Jefferson Davis devised and put into motion a plan to bring camels over to work in the American West. This admittedly biased pro-camel account makes it seem that military small-mindedness and the unfortunate eruption of the Civil War (along with the taint of the project having been started by the Confederate President-to-be) killed the camel experiment before it had a chance to prove what a stellar program it could be. Most, if not all, of the camels and their descendants have died out of the West, but they are remembered fondly. The book, however interesting, wasn't that well written, was a little too pro-camel, and I'm just not interested enough in the topic to keep it.
Against the Odds, a book of short stories by L.M. Montgomery. A mixed bag, but a little repetitive, this collection really pointed up the similarities in Montgomery's basic choice of protagonist. Other than "The Strike at Putney," which is a masterful example of Montgomery's basic genius, most of the stories are eminently forgettable. But sweet!
Erle Stanley Gardner, The Case of the Deadly Toy and The Case of the Daring Decoy. Deadly Toy was certainly a departure from the usual formula ... but I was left feeling a bit of dissatisfaction with the resolutin of the "B" plot. Just a loose end getting wound up in what felt like an unnatural way. And Daring Decoy had a lot of interesting twists and one really great character (Myrtle Bailey, the elevator operator), but otherwise didn't strike me as all that special.
Richard Wheeler, Sherman's March. Much like the wagon trains book of a previous review, this book was a compilation of contemporary accounts of the March to the Sea. Very complimentary towards Sherman himself, it relied heavily on a few sources, and gave unquestioning credence to the commentary of the people from the areas the army passed through—chiefly outraged women. For all that, though, it was an interesting read and valuable for a glimpse at the perspectives of the people involved in the event. I'd have liked to see the civilian accounts balanced a little more by the soldiers' accounts, but I suppose you can't have everything!
Thomas D. Clark, Pills, Petticoats, & Plows. I'd had this book on my shelves for probably a decade before it popped up in the rotation recently, and I was thrilled to sit down with it. Definitely not a polished work—it could have used some reorganization, some clarification in places—it was still a very intreresting read, detailing the history of the Southern country store from its birth shortly after the end of the Civil War up to the early 20th century when cars and catalogs began to take over the country store's place in the lives of the people it served.
Finally, When the Century Was Young, by historian and author Dee Brown. This was a fascinating memoir of Brown's childhood and experiences as a young man. The tidbits and anecdotes that filled it were rich and varied, and Brown's life as he describes it involved him in a lot of the major experiences of his era. The entire section on his World War II service was a lesson in and of itself. If you can ignore the constant derogatory references to the way the world has clearly gone to hell in the modern era (the book was published in the early '90s, and Brown was not a fan of the '80s or the people in them, to say the least), it's a very good read.
Whew! All caught up for now.
I've actually gotten through a surprising number of books, though, for all that. Starting with:
Noble Brutes: Camels on the American Frontier, by Eva Jolene Boyd. A history of the ill-starred camel experiment of the mid-nineteenth century. Then-Secretary of War Jefferson Davis devised and put into motion a plan to bring camels over to work in the American West. This admittedly biased pro-camel account makes it seem that military small-mindedness and the unfortunate eruption of the Civil War (along with the taint of the project having been started by the Confederate President-to-be) killed the camel experiment before it had a chance to prove what a stellar program it could be. Most, if not all, of the camels and their descendants have died out of the West, but they are remembered fondly. The book, however interesting, wasn't that well written, was a little too pro-camel, and I'm just not interested enough in the topic to keep it.
Against the Odds, a book of short stories by L.M. Montgomery. A mixed bag, but a little repetitive, this collection really pointed up the similarities in Montgomery's basic choice of protagonist. Other than "The Strike at Putney," which is a masterful example of Montgomery's basic genius, most of the stories are eminently forgettable. But sweet!
Erle Stanley Gardner, The Case of the Deadly Toy and The Case of the Daring Decoy. Deadly Toy was certainly a departure from the usual formula ... but I was left feeling a bit of dissatisfaction with the resolutin of the "B" plot. Just a loose end getting wound up in what felt like an unnatural way. And Daring Decoy had a lot of interesting twists and one really great character (Myrtle Bailey, the elevator operator), but otherwise didn't strike me as all that special.
Richard Wheeler, Sherman's March. Much like the wagon trains book of a previous review, this book was a compilation of contemporary accounts of the March to the Sea. Very complimentary towards Sherman himself, it relied heavily on a few sources, and gave unquestioning credence to the commentary of the people from the areas the army passed through—chiefly outraged women. For all that, though, it was an interesting read and valuable for a glimpse at the perspectives of the people involved in the event. I'd have liked to see the civilian accounts balanced a little more by the soldiers' accounts, but I suppose you can't have everything!
Thomas D. Clark, Pills, Petticoats, & Plows. I'd had this book on my shelves for probably a decade before it popped up in the rotation recently, and I was thrilled to sit down with it. Definitely not a polished work—it could have used some reorganization, some clarification in places—it was still a very intreresting read, detailing the history of the Southern country store from its birth shortly after the end of the Civil War up to the early 20th century when cars and catalogs began to take over the country store's place in the lives of the people it served.
Finally, When the Century Was Young, by historian and author Dee Brown. This was a fascinating memoir of Brown's childhood and experiences as a young man. The tidbits and anecdotes that filled it were rich and varied, and Brown's life as he describes it involved him in a lot of the major experiences of his era. The entire section on his World War II service was a lesson in and of itself. If you can ignore the constant derogatory references to the way the world has clearly gone to hell in the modern era (the book was published in the early '90s, and Brown was not a fan of the '80s or the people in them, to say the least), it's a very good read.
Whew! All caught up for now.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
book list
I've never done a "meme" before (or am I "gakking"? I'm such a novice blogger!), but thanks to Marsha for this one!
(The idea is you leave plain the ones you haven't read, italicize the ones you want to read, and bold the ones you have read.)
1. The Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown)
2. Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen)
3. To Kill A Mockingbird (Harper Lee)
4. Gone With The Wind (Margaret Mitchell)
5. The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King (Tolkien
6. The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring (Tolkien)
7. The Lord of the Rings: Two Towers (Tolkien)
8. Anne of Green Gables (L.M. Montgomery)
9. Outlander (Diana Gabaldon)
10. A Fine Balance (Rohinton Mistry)
11. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Rowling)
12. Angels and Demons (Dan Brown)
13. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Rowling)
14. A Prayer for Owen Meany (John Irving)
15. Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golden).
16. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (Rowling)
17. Fall on Your Knees (Ann-Marie MacDonald)
18. The Stand (Stephen King)
19. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban(Rowling)
20. Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte)
21. The Hobbit (Tolkien)
22. The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)
23. Little Women (Louisa May Alcott)
24. The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)
25 . Life of Pi (Yann Martel)
26. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams)
27. Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte)
28. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (C. S. Lewis)
29. East of Eden (John Steinbeck)
30. Tuesdays with Morrie (Mitch Albom)
31. Dune (Frank Herbert)
32. The Notebook (Nicholas Sparks)
33. Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand)
34. 1984 (Orwell)
35. The Mists of Avalon (Marion Zimmer Bradley)
36. The Pillars of the Earth (Ken Follett)
37. The Power of One (Bryce Courtenay)
38. I Know This Much is True (Wally Lamb)
39. The Red Tent (Anita Diamant)
40. The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho)
41. The Clan of the Cave Bear (Jean M. Auel)
42. The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)
43. Confessions of a Shopaholic (Sophie Kinsella)
44. The Five People You Meet In Heaven (Mitch Albom)
45. Bible
46. Anna Karenina (Tolstoy)
47. The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas)
48. Angela’s Ashes (Frank McCourt)
49. The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck)
50. She’s Come Undone (Wally Lamb)
51. The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver)
52. A Tale of Two Cities (Dickens)
53. Ender’s Game (Orson Scott Card)
54. Great Expectations (Dickens)
55. The Great Gatsby (Fitzgerald)
56. The Stone Angel (Margaret Laurence)
57. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Rowling)
58. The Thorn Birds (Colleen McCullough)
59. The Handmaid’s Tale (Margaret Atwood)
60. The Time Traveller’s Wife (Audrey Niffenegger)
61. Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoyevsky)
62. The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand)
63. War and Peace (Tolstoy)
64. Interview With The Vampire (Anne Rice)
65. Fifth Business (Robertson Davis)
66. One Hundred Years Of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
67. The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants (Ann Brashares)
68. Catch-22 (Joseph Heller)
69. Les Miserables (Hugo)
70. The Little Prince (Antoine de Saint-Exupery)
71. Bridget Jones’ Diary (Fielding)
72. Love in the Time of Cholera (Marquez)
73. Shogun (James Clavell)
74. The English Patient (Michael Ondaatje)
75. The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett)
76. The Summer Tree (Guy Gavriel Kay)
77. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith)
78. The World According To Garp (John Irving)
79. The Diviners (Margaret Laurence)
80. Charlotte’s Web (E.B. White)
81. Not Wanted On The Voyage (Timothy Findley)
82. Of Mice And Men (Steinbeck)
83. Rebecca (Daphne Du Maurier)
84. Wizard’s First Rule (Terry Goodkind)
85. Emma (Jane Austen)
86. Watership Down(Richard Adams)
87. Brave New World (Aldous Huxley)
88. The Stone Diaries (Carol Shields)
89. Blindness (Jose Saramago)
90. Kane and Abel (Jeffrey Archer)
91. In The Skin Of A Lion (Ondaatje)
92. Lord of the Flies (Golding)
93. The Good Earth (Pearl S. Buck)
94. The Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd)
95. The Bourne Identity (Robert Ludlum)
96. The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton)
97. White Oleander (Janet Fitch)
98. A Woman of Substance (Barbara Taylor Bradford)
99. The Celestine Prophecy (James Redfield)
100. Ulysses (James Joyce)
(Wow, less than half! Of course, this list has a lot of contemporary fiction, so a significant number of the books I've never heard of. That's what I love about books—there are always more!)
(The idea is you leave plain the ones you haven't read, italicize the ones you want to read, and bold the ones you have read.)
1. The Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown)
2. Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen)
3. To Kill A Mockingbird (Harper Lee)
4. Gone With The Wind (Margaret Mitchell)
5. The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King (Tolkien
6. The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring (Tolkien)
7. The Lord of the Rings: Two Towers (Tolkien)
8. Anne of Green Gables (L.M. Montgomery)
9. Outlander (Diana Gabaldon)
10. A Fine Balance (Rohinton Mistry)
11. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Rowling)
12. Angels and Demons (Dan Brown)
13. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Rowling)
14. A Prayer for Owen Meany (John Irving)
15. Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golden).
16. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (Rowling)
17. Fall on Your Knees (Ann-Marie MacDonald)
18. The Stand (Stephen King)
19. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban(Rowling)
20. Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte)
21. The Hobbit (Tolkien)
22. The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)
23. Little Women (Louisa May Alcott)
24. The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)
25 . Life of Pi (Yann Martel)
26. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams)
27. Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte)
28. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (C. S. Lewis)
29. East of Eden (John Steinbeck)
30. Tuesdays with Morrie (Mitch Albom)
31. Dune (Frank Herbert)
32. The Notebook (Nicholas Sparks)
33. Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand)
34. 1984 (Orwell)
35. The Mists of Avalon (Marion Zimmer Bradley)
36. The Pillars of the Earth (Ken Follett)
37. The Power of One (Bryce Courtenay)
38. I Know This Much is True (Wally Lamb)
39. The Red Tent (Anita Diamant)
40. The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho)
41. The Clan of the Cave Bear (Jean M. Auel)
42. The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)
43. Confessions of a Shopaholic (Sophie Kinsella)
44. The Five People You Meet In Heaven (Mitch Albom)
45. Bible
46. Anna Karenina (Tolstoy)
47. The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas)
48. Angela’s Ashes (Frank McCourt)
49. The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck)
50. She’s Come Undone (Wally Lamb)
51. The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver)
52. A Tale of Two Cities (Dickens)
53. Ender’s Game (Orson Scott Card)
54. Great Expectations (Dickens)
55. The Great Gatsby (Fitzgerald)
56. The Stone Angel (Margaret Laurence)
57. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Rowling)
58. The Thorn Birds (Colleen McCullough)
59. The Handmaid’s Tale (Margaret Atwood)
60. The Time Traveller’s Wife (Audrey Niffenegger)
61. Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoyevsky)
62. The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand)
63. War and Peace (Tolstoy)
64. Interview With The Vampire (Anne Rice)
65. Fifth Business (Robertson Davis)
66. One Hundred Years Of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
67. The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants (Ann Brashares)
68. Catch-22 (Joseph Heller)
69. Les Miserables (Hugo)
70. The Little Prince (Antoine de Saint-Exupery)
71. Bridget Jones’ Diary (Fielding)
72. Love in the Time of Cholera (Marquez)
73. Shogun (James Clavell)
74. The English Patient (Michael Ondaatje)
75. The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett)
76. The Summer Tree (Guy Gavriel Kay)
77. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith)
78. The World According To Garp (John Irving)
79. The Diviners (Margaret Laurence)
80. Charlotte’s Web (E.B. White)
81. Not Wanted On The Voyage (Timothy Findley)
82. Of Mice And Men (Steinbeck)
83. Rebecca (Daphne Du Maurier)
84. Wizard’s First Rule (Terry Goodkind)
85. Emma (Jane Austen)
86. Watership Down(Richard Adams)
87. Brave New World (Aldous Huxley)
88. The Stone Diaries (Carol Shields)
89. Blindness (Jose Saramago)
90. Kane and Abel (Jeffrey Archer)
91. In The Skin Of A Lion (Ondaatje)
92. Lord of the Flies (Golding)
93. The Good Earth (Pearl S. Buck)
94. The Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd)
95. The Bourne Identity (Robert Ludlum)
96. The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton)
97. White Oleander (Janet Fitch)
98. A Woman of Substance (Barbara Taylor Bradford)
99. The Celestine Prophecy (James Redfield)
100. Ulysses (James Joyce)
(Wow, less than half! Of course, this list has a lot of contemporary fiction, so a significant number of the books I've never heard of. That's what I love about books—there are always more!)
Saturday, August 04, 2007
book report
It's so demoralizing when the books go straight into boxes instead of on the shelves! Can't wait to have this whole move over with so I can put all my books back out the way they belong.
George Howe Colt, The Big House. This is a memoir of the author's family and their summer house on Cape Cod, and really of the author's love affair with both. Reminded me a lot of my feelings toward my own family and how they were bound up with my love for the house I grew up in. The last few chapters, while the "Big House"'s future hung in the balance, were particularly compelling.
James Hewitt, editor, Eye-Witnesses to Wagon Trains West. This is a woven thread of chapters covering the major events in the history of the wagon trains, with author's narrative and excerpts from diaries, letters, and other contemporary publications forming the tapestry. Frankly, I found it a depressingly slow read, and I have better volumes on almost every chapter. Many of them are the source material for this book. Not a keeper.
Scott Zesch, The Captured. This is a tale of Indian captivity, but truly in-depth. It covers the history of Indian abduction in frontier Texas, and uses a fairly large group of abductees to illustrate the history. One of them was the author's great-uncle, making the book a very personal journey. Very well-written and -researched, very interesting.
Guy de la Bedoyere, Defying Rome. A history of rebellions in Roman Britain, this book started off well, but petered off into a fairly dry work. It may well be that the book just wasn't written for the lay reader, and my own lack of knowledge of Roman Britain was the real problem, but bottom line, it just didn't grab me.
Jack Turner, Spice: The History of a Temptation. The author chose a stunningly large topic circle to write about—the history of spices, their uses, origins, and places in society. Amazingly, he managed it rather well. The chapters are densely packed, but the information is interesting and I didn't come away feeling that there were major gaps in the subject area.
Finally, Frances Hill, A Delusion of Satan. A very comprehensive history of the Salem witch trials. Well-written, character-focused ... but still left me wondering about the lives and the histories of the people who were hanged. So many of them (anyone who didn't get a speaking role in The Crucible) are just faceless names on a list of "the victims." At any rate, this gap aside, A Delusion of Satan was definitely a good read.
George Howe Colt, The Big House. This is a memoir of the author's family and their summer house on Cape Cod, and really of the author's love affair with both. Reminded me a lot of my feelings toward my own family and how they were bound up with my love for the house I grew up in. The last few chapters, while the "Big House"'s future hung in the balance, were particularly compelling.
James Hewitt, editor, Eye-Witnesses to Wagon Trains West. This is a woven thread of chapters covering the major events in the history of the wagon trains, with author's narrative and excerpts from diaries, letters, and other contemporary publications forming the tapestry. Frankly, I found it a depressingly slow read, and I have better volumes on almost every chapter. Many of them are the source material for this book. Not a keeper.
Scott Zesch, The Captured. This is a tale of Indian captivity, but truly in-depth. It covers the history of Indian abduction in frontier Texas, and uses a fairly large group of abductees to illustrate the history. One of them was the author's great-uncle, making the book a very personal journey. Very well-written and -researched, very interesting.
Guy de la Bedoyere, Defying Rome. A history of rebellions in Roman Britain, this book started off well, but petered off into a fairly dry work. It may well be that the book just wasn't written for the lay reader, and my own lack of knowledge of Roman Britain was the real problem, but bottom line, it just didn't grab me.
Jack Turner, Spice: The History of a Temptation. The author chose a stunningly large topic circle to write about—the history of spices, their uses, origins, and places in society. Amazingly, he managed it rather well. The chapters are densely packed, but the information is interesting and I didn't come away feeling that there were major gaps in the subject area.
Finally, Frances Hill, A Delusion of Satan. A very comprehensive history of the Salem witch trials. Well-written, character-focused ... but still left me wondering about the lives and the histories of the people who were hanged. So many of them (anyone who didn't get a speaking role in The Crucible) are just faceless names on a list of "the victims." At any rate, this gap aside, A Delusion of Satan was definitely a good read.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
a simple day
I'll admit, this summer has been fairly stressful. And my level of tolerance for my children in general has been pretty low. I've ended most days glad to see the door close behind their constant stream of needy noise. So it was a huge relief to have one shining day in the midst of it all when I remembered all the reasons why I wanted to be a parent in the first place and got to see my sons (especially Charles) in a new light.
A couple of weeks back, with MIL in town to watch the mischief-meister, Lou and I took the boys to a local amusement park. I'm a big fan of rides and coasters, and we've been counting the days until the kids are old enough for Disney and Cedar Point. (Yes, I know they could go now, but would we enjoy it? Almost certainly not. After all, these vacations are supposed to be for the WHOLE family.) But I realized, we had to take them somewhere. Imagine, we take them to Cedar Point, we're standing in front of the Blue Streak, and they're scared to get on because they've never been on a roller coaster! The horror. So we found a small park nearby, lots of rides geared toward kids the ages of ours, and a fair number that were good for parents and kids.
When we got out of the car, the first thing we saw was the ferris wheel, rising up in the sky. Charles pointed at it, and in an awed voice asked if we could go on it. So we did. Daddy was very nervous about the kids falling off, but they loved it! Next ride they went on by themselves—they really handled themselves very well, and stuck together like good brothers. Kiddie rides were a definite success. Next up, our very first family roller coaster. Greyson went with Daddy, Charles went with me. Charles and I were whooping it up, sliding back and forth in the seat, when I heard tears behind me. Greyson, unprepared for the motion, was not enjoying the ride. So I looked, panicked, down at Charles, expecting similar tears—to my delight, his grin was a mile wide.
From there, we did a flume, enjoyed by all, then a water ride 2x2 on rafts going down a big tube. Charles and I had a blast. Not sure how Daddy felt about that one! Meanwhile, we had seen a big boat ride that was a guaranteed super soaker. Charles fell in love with it on first sight, and spent the rest of the day asking to go on. Daddy had the camera, and neither of us was prepared to get soaking wet. But Mommy rallied and took the hit for the team. So while Charles and I prepared to to take the big plunge, Daddy and Greyson went off to do a ride of Greyson's choosing. Impressively, Greyson decided he wanted to ride the roller coaster again! This time, prepared for the experience, he enjoyed the ride much more.
Charles and I climbed into the big boat, buckling ourselves in. His grin was about to split his face open. Me, I figured we'd get to the bottom, he'd get soaked, the crying would commence. Up and around and down we went, swoosh! Splash! And I looked over at Charles, and nearly cried myself. He loved it! He was so happy—and the memory of that moment still makes me glow. It was so exciting to see Charles in his element the way he was that day, to be surprised by his willingness to try everything, his excitement, his enthusiasm. By mutual agreement, we did the ride again immediately. I was soaked to the skin, riding home half-undressed while my pants dried, but it was totally worth it.
It sounds like a simple day, but it was really important to me. It was one of the few days this summer that I ended exhilarated and in love with my children. I was so proud of Greyson for going back to the roller coaster and being willing to try it again, even though it scared him the first time. And I was delighted to see a whole new side of Charles and find a kindred ride-loving spirit in him.
A couple of weeks back, with MIL in town to watch the mischief-meister, Lou and I took the boys to a local amusement park. I'm a big fan of rides and coasters, and we've been counting the days until the kids are old enough for Disney and Cedar Point. (Yes, I know they could go now, but would we enjoy it? Almost certainly not. After all, these vacations are supposed to be for the WHOLE family.) But I realized, we had to take them somewhere. Imagine, we take them to Cedar Point, we're standing in front of the Blue Streak, and they're scared to get on because they've never been on a roller coaster! The horror. So we found a small park nearby, lots of rides geared toward kids the ages of ours, and a fair number that were good for parents and kids.
When we got out of the car, the first thing we saw was the ferris wheel, rising up in the sky. Charles pointed at it, and in an awed voice asked if we could go on it. So we did. Daddy was very nervous about the kids falling off, but they loved it! Next ride they went on by themselves—they really handled themselves very well, and stuck together like good brothers. Kiddie rides were a definite success. Next up, our very first family roller coaster. Greyson went with Daddy, Charles went with me. Charles and I were whooping it up, sliding back and forth in the seat, when I heard tears behind me. Greyson, unprepared for the motion, was not enjoying the ride. So I looked, panicked, down at Charles, expecting similar tears—to my delight, his grin was a mile wide.
From there, we did a flume, enjoyed by all, then a water ride 2x2 on rafts going down a big tube. Charles and I had a blast. Not sure how Daddy felt about that one! Meanwhile, we had seen a big boat ride that was a guaranteed super soaker. Charles fell in love with it on first sight, and spent the rest of the day asking to go on. Daddy had the camera, and neither of us was prepared to get soaking wet. But Mommy rallied and took the hit for the team. So while Charles and I prepared to to take the big plunge, Daddy and Greyson went off to do a ride of Greyson's choosing. Impressively, Greyson decided he wanted to ride the roller coaster again! This time, prepared for the experience, he enjoyed the ride much more.
Charles and I climbed into the big boat, buckling ourselves in. His grin was about to split his face open. Me, I figured we'd get to the bottom, he'd get soaked, the crying would commence. Up and around and down we went, swoosh! Splash! And I looked over at Charles, and nearly cried myself. He loved it! He was so happy—and the memory of that moment still makes me glow. It was so exciting to see Charles in his element the way he was that day, to be surprised by his willingness to try everything, his excitement, his enthusiasm. By mutual agreement, we did the ride again immediately. I was soaked to the skin, riding home half-undressed while my pants dried, but it was totally worth it.
It sounds like a simple day, but it was really important to me. It was one of the few days this summer that I ended exhilarated and in love with my children. I was so proud of Greyson for going back to the roller coaster and being willing to try it again, even though it scared him the first time. And I was delighted to see a whole new side of Charles and find a kindred ride-loving spirit in him.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
"Work in Progress"
If I ever write a memoir, I think that will have to be the title. So much of my life can be listed under that heading. It feels like I never quite accomplish, never quite reach the goal I'm working toward. (And, of course, there are many, many backslidings.) All of my attempts at bettering myself, improving my skills in various areas, challenging myself to do more ... they all remain on my mind, even when they've been pushed to the back burner. I rarely give up on an idea completely ... but I also rarely have the opportunity to put into an accomplishment all the energy that would enable me to "complete" it.
Having said all that, I suspect all those sentiments are shared by many, many people. Because, really, what's the alternative to living life "in progress"? Well, you could stop short, halting somewhere that feels comfortable. That works for some people, I suppose, but eventually, wouldn't you want something more? You could give up, assuming nothing will ever go right and you'll never actually complete any of the things you're trying to do, but then you go backwards, and find you have less and less to be proud of. (That would be the story of my mother's life—the shining star who ended up sinking so far into the mud that no one remembered by the end how the star had sparkled.) You could stand, hands proudly on your hips, looking around from what appears to be the pinnacle of your life, and settle in, smugly believing that you have "finished," you have "achieved." But then what would you do the next day?
I think those people who are striving, who are working toward something (no matter what it is) every day, or at least trying to, are the most interesting types. You meet someone who is challenging themselves, asking "what more is there?", and yes, on the surface they may seem restless and possibly even discontented. But underneath there's a striving for personal greatness that makes a "work in progress" something worth being.
Having said all that, I suspect all those sentiments are shared by many, many people. Because, really, what's the alternative to living life "in progress"? Well, you could stop short, halting somewhere that feels comfortable. That works for some people, I suppose, but eventually, wouldn't you want something more? You could give up, assuming nothing will ever go right and you'll never actually complete any of the things you're trying to do, but then you go backwards, and find you have less and less to be proud of. (That would be the story of my mother's life—the shining star who ended up sinking so far into the mud that no one remembered by the end how the star had sparkled.) You could stand, hands proudly on your hips, looking around from what appears to be the pinnacle of your life, and settle in, smugly believing that you have "finished," you have "achieved." But then what would you do the next day?
I think those people who are striving, who are working toward something (no matter what it is) every day, or at least trying to, are the most interesting types. You meet someone who is challenging themselves, asking "what more is there?", and yes, on the surface they may seem restless and possibly even discontented. But underneath there's a striving for personal greatness that makes a "work in progress" something worth being.
book report - Civil War
I know—I keep promising non-book report entries and then not delivering. Essentially, I'm finding that when I have the time to blog, I either have too much to say or not enough. As with so many things, it's a work in progress.
Anyway, on to my three recently read Civil War books.
William C. Davis, The Civil War Reenactors' Encyclopedia. For the record, I am not a reenactor. It's something I would like to look into, but would require a lot more time than I have at my disposal right now! But the Encyclopedia was really useful as a writer's guide as well. It consists of pages and pages of descriptions of a soldier's kit, from both sides, with really high quality pictures of the actual items. And really covers anything that a soldier would have touched or carried, from the basics of shirt and pants to musical instruments, sentimental items, and and flags. Definitely a keeper.
Deanne Blanton and Lauren M. Cook, They Fought Like Demons: Women Soldiers in the Civil War. Really interesting overview of women's experiences, and more just a detailed look at what is known about women's service in the war. Some of their statements imply a level of knowledge that it's just impossible to have ... but they also make it very clear that we only know today about those women who were discovered for one reason or another (usually wounds or pregnancies) or who became famous in later years (Albert Cashier, for example). Numbers of women almost certainly served who either left the service undetected or were buried as the men they pretended to be. The book supported most of its assertions through stories of those women who are known to have served, and really was a very interesting and informative read.
Peter F. Stevens, Rebels in Blue: The Story of Keith and Malinda Blalock. I'm usually tempted by any work on this particular subject matter, especially when it implies a woman serving as well. So I picked this one up, and got something that was not exactly what I expected. The "service" described was more of a guerrilla position, where these people fought the war in their own back yard, keeping an eye on Confederate activity in their North Carolina mountain home area. But it was still very compelling. It required great conviction on the part of both husband and wife to stand up for what they believed in, against the equal conviction of neighbors and in some cases family. And the two of them were apparently both just fascinating people. I found the ending chapter, on the late life of Keith Blalock, particularly interesting. So I'm not sure if this forwarded my research or not, but it was well worth reading.
Anyway, on to my three recently read Civil War books.
William C. Davis, The Civil War Reenactors' Encyclopedia. For the record, I am not a reenactor. It's something I would like to look into, but would require a lot more time than I have at my disposal right now! But the Encyclopedia was really useful as a writer's guide as well. It consists of pages and pages of descriptions of a soldier's kit, from both sides, with really high quality pictures of the actual items. And really covers anything that a soldier would have touched or carried, from the basics of shirt and pants to musical instruments, sentimental items, and and flags. Definitely a keeper.
Deanne Blanton and Lauren M. Cook, They Fought Like Demons: Women Soldiers in the Civil War. Really interesting overview of women's experiences, and more just a detailed look at what is known about women's service in the war. Some of their statements imply a level of knowledge that it's just impossible to have ... but they also make it very clear that we only know today about those women who were discovered for one reason or another (usually wounds or pregnancies) or who became famous in later years (Albert Cashier, for example). Numbers of women almost certainly served who either left the service undetected or were buried as the men they pretended to be. The book supported most of its assertions through stories of those women who are known to have served, and really was a very interesting and informative read.
Peter F. Stevens, Rebels in Blue: The Story of Keith and Malinda Blalock. I'm usually tempted by any work on this particular subject matter, especially when it implies a woman serving as well. So I picked this one up, and got something that was not exactly what I expected. The "service" described was more of a guerrilla position, where these people fought the war in their own back yard, keeping an eye on Confederate activity in their North Carolina mountain home area. But it was still very compelling. It required great conviction on the part of both husband and wife to stand up for what they believed in, against the equal conviction of neighbors and in some cases family. And the two of them were apparently both just fascinating people. I found the ending chapter, on the late life of Keith Blalock, particularly interesting. So I'm not sure if this forwarded my research or not, but it was well worth reading.
Monday, July 23, 2007
one more book report!
I hope to get out two posts today. This one because I really need to get my book stack cleared out and shelved, and another one with a more varied topic. I suspect my rate of finishing books will slow down considerably—from now until whenever we move, I've given up the "system" and will be focusing on finishing all the books I've been working my way through, and burning through my nonfiction TBR shelves as fast as I can. Among other reasons, it's a lot less messy that way; I can keep my shelves looking much neater.
These are all series installments. Starting with:
Rex Stout, The Silent Speaker. A nice outing for Archie and Nero, containing a couple of women characters who were more than just foils for Archie's wit. Not sure if the plot itself was much of a page-turner, but as always it was a fun ride.
James Howe, Howliday Inn. I'd read the first book, Bunnicula (yes, these are children's books!) a while back, and it was solid. The sequel, Howliday Inn, has literally been on my TBR shelf since we lived in North Carolina. Have to say, it wasn't worth the shipping cost to move it twice! Thin plot, threadbare devices, too hurried denouement. Not a keeper.
Anne Perry, Seven Dials. I love the Thomas and Charlotte Pitt books. I tried to read the first of the William Monk series and couldn't get interested in it, and haven't checked out the new World War I era series, although I may at some point. And I'm finding it unfortunate that my favorite Perry series seems to be the author's least favorite. Also, REALLY not interested in the whole mega-conspiracy plot. But the character development moves forward (at least some of it), and I do enjoy the writing, so I'll be sticking with the series as long as it lasts.
Janette Oke, Love's Unending Legacy. I really like the first part of this series. Love Comes Softly is a classic, and the characters are rich and interesting. Love's Unending Legacy reads like the end of the series, and IMO should have been. The three books that come after it just lack the poignancy, the simplicity, the homey "let's put up our feet and shoot the breeze" kind of feel that make the first several books such good reads. This one seems a bit rushed, but I suspect it's the one where the author really ran into the "I have too many characters to try and fit in" problem that eventually led her to end the series altogether. As far as I'm concerned, it ends here!
Finally, Cynthia Peale, Murder at Bertram's Bower. This is a relatively new series (well, new to me—no telling how many there are now that I've finally gotten through the second book!)—set in Victorian Boston. The setting drew me, the characters keep me. Very much like Perry's Pitt novels, these are wonderful portraits of proper Victorians reaching out of their sheltered existence, and the effect that has on their lives.
These are all series installments. Starting with:
Rex Stout, The Silent Speaker. A nice outing for Archie and Nero, containing a couple of women characters who were more than just foils for Archie's wit. Not sure if the plot itself was much of a page-turner, but as always it was a fun ride.
James Howe, Howliday Inn. I'd read the first book, Bunnicula (yes, these are children's books!) a while back, and it was solid. The sequel, Howliday Inn, has literally been on my TBR shelf since we lived in North Carolina. Have to say, it wasn't worth the shipping cost to move it twice! Thin plot, threadbare devices, too hurried denouement. Not a keeper.
Anne Perry, Seven Dials. I love the Thomas and Charlotte Pitt books. I tried to read the first of the William Monk series and couldn't get interested in it, and haven't checked out the new World War I era series, although I may at some point. And I'm finding it unfortunate that my favorite Perry series seems to be the author's least favorite. Also, REALLY not interested in the whole mega-conspiracy plot. But the character development moves forward (at least some of it), and I do enjoy the writing, so I'll be sticking with the series as long as it lasts.
Janette Oke, Love's Unending Legacy. I really like the first part of this series. Love Comes Softly is a classic, and the characters are rich and interesting. Love's Unending Legacy reads like the end of the series, and IMO should have been. The three books that come after it just lack the poignancy, the simplicity, the homey "let's put up our feet and shoot the breeze" kind of feel that make the first several books such good reads. This one seems a bit rushed, but I suspect it's the one where the author really ran into the "I have too many characters to try and fit in" problem that eventually led her to end the series altogether. As far as I'm concerned, it ends here!
Finally, Cynthia Peale, Murder at Bertram's Bower. This is a relatively new series (well, new to me—no telling how many there are now that I've finally gotten through the second book!)—set in Victorian Boston. The setting drew me, the characters keep me. Very much like Perry's Pitt novels, these are wonderful portraits of proper Victorians reaching out of their sheltered existence, and the effect that has on their lives.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
back after a brief hiatus!
Sorry about the posting gap—it's been a busy couple of weeks. Among other things, I've finished a huge number of books. 17, to be exact! Here's a quick round-up of the entries on the Westerns category:
By Walter Van Tilburg Clark, The Ox-Bow Incident. I've been looking forward to seeing the movie, starring Harry Morgan, but wanted to read the book first. And, man, was it dark. Literally. There's a whole section where the posse stumbles around in the dark and the fog. And, frankly, depressing. I mean, we all know that the mob instinct exists, and that people in the heat of the moment can be led to do things that look pretty bad in the light of day ... but to be confronted so starkly with the gap between what should have happened and what did—well, let's just say I don't feel the need to descend to those depths again. Not a keeper, this one ... and I'm not so sure I want to see the movie.
On to more pleasant studies: my most recent forays into the world of Mr. L'Amour. I finished The Tall Stranger, which seemed very familiar. I suspect he'd written a short story with a similar plot and then expanded it into a book. Still entertaining, though. Also Shalako, which was a standoff attrition battle one ... very similar to another book of his (or possibly, again, a short story) that I'd read. Flint, however, was like nothing I had read before. L'Amour left his comfort zone a bit with a slightly different type of character who had lived a slightly different life, and played with some unusual themes. While this may not be my favorite L'Amour, I think it's certainly the most unique. And, finally, War Party, a collection of short stories.
I'll have updates soon on the other dozen books, on my recent weekend away in solitude, and a few other things. Although there may be a visitor-driven gap in posting again next week.
By Walter Van Tilburg Clark, The Ox-Bow Incident. I've been looking forward to seeing the movie, starring Harry Morgan, but wanted to read the book first. And, man, was it dark. Literally. There's a whole section where the posse stumbles around in the dark and the fog. And, frankly, depressing. I mean, we all know that the mob instinct exists, and that people in the heat of the moment can be led to do things that look pretty bad in the light of day ... but to be confronted so starkly with the gap between what should have happened and what did—well, let's just say I don't feel the need to descend to those depths again. Not a keeper, this one ... and I'm not so sure I want to see the movie.
On to more pleasant studies: my most recent forays into the world of Mr. L'Amour. I finished The Tall Stranger, which seemed very familiar. I suspect he'd written a short story with a similar plot and then expanded it into a book. Still entertaining, though. Also Shalako, which was a standoff attrition battle one ... very similar to another book of his (or possibly, again, a short story) that I'd read. Flint, however, was like nothing I had read before. L'Amour left his comfort zone a bit with a slightly different type of character who had lived a slightly different life, and played with some unusual themes. While this may not be my favorite L'Amour, I think it's certainly the most unique. And, finally, War Party, a collection of short stories.
I'll have updates soon on the other dozen books, on my recent weekend away in solitude, and a few other things. Although there may be a visitor-driven gap in posting again next week.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
forwards
You know what I'm talking about—the cutesy stories and poems that are supposed to make you cry; the urban legends disguised as horrifying/terrifying fact; the endless petitions that don't actually go anywhere or stand for anything. I'm going to rant about these, and I don't apologize for it!
Several things annoy me.
1. snopes.com has now been around long enough that before sending out any forwarded message that is supposed to be based in "fact", it's a good idea to look it up and make sure it really is true. Sending a false forward in this day and age is damaging to the credibility.
2. If you're sending around a petition that's supposed to help breast cancer research, stop drunk driving, or cure any other major social ill, please read the forward carefully so that you can answer a few simple questions: what is the petition calling for? To whom is it going? Will they actually care?
3. In the unlikely event that you can answer all three questions in #2 in ways that satisfy you, only forward it to people you're actually in contact with. It's annoying and insulting to receive a forwarded petition from someone who doesn't bother to contact you in 'real life'. A subset to this one is to make sure that you let the people you're sending the petition to know who you are. If you simply sign (for example), "Ben", and you're sending the email out to everyone in your address book, chances are half the people don't know which "Ben" you are and may report you as a spammer.
4. If you've just read the most moving poem of your life, all about puppies and kittens and the joy of parenthood that makes you cry because every single moment is so precious you must squeeze it until the very life is choked out of it ... don't forward it. I guarantee, 90% of the people you'd send it to have already seen it.
5. And, again, in this day and age this one is pretty basic. If it has an attachment, don't forward it. Most people won't bother to open it, and many of them will be annoyed with you.
Of course, you may wonder, if I can't forward in all the cases above, when can I? Answer: any time something is genuinely funny, moving, or necessary to know. And, even more important, know your audience. Forwards would work a lot better if each one were only forwarded to a few carefully chosen people at a time instead of randomly blanketed to an entire address book.
(All of the above lead me to wonder ... how long will it be until classes in netiquette become standard for emerging computer users? Probably too long.)
Several things annoy me.
1. snopes.com has now been around long enough that before sending out any forwarded message that is supposed to be based in "fact", it's a good idea to look it up and make sure it really is true. Sending a false forward in this day and age is damaging to the credibility.
2. If you're sending around a petition that's supposed to help breast cancer research, stop drunk driving, or cure any other major social ill, please read the forward carefully so that you can answer a few simple questions: what is the petition calling for? To whom is it going? Will they actually care?
3. In the unlikely event that you can answer all three questions in #2 in ways that satisfy you, only forward it to people you're actually in contact with. It's annoying and insulting to receive a forwarded petition from someone who doesn't bother to contact you in 'real life'. A subset to this one is to make sure that you let the people you're sending the petition to know who you are. If you simply sign (for example), "Ben", and you're sending the email out to everyone in your address book, chances are half the people don't know which "Ben" you are and may report you as a spammer.
4. If you've just read the most moving poem of your life, all about puppies and kittens and the joy of parenthood that makes you cry because every single moment is so precious you must squeeze it until the very life is choked out of it ... don't forward it. I guarantee, 90% of the people you'd send it to have already seen it.
5. And, again, in this day and age this one is pretty basic. If it has an attachment, don't forward it. Most people won't bother to open it, and many of them will be annoyed with you.
Of course, you may wonder, if I can't forward in all the cases above, when can I? Answer: any time something is genuinely funny, moving, or necessary to know. And, even more important, know your audience. Forwards would work a lot better if each one were only forwarded to a few carefully chosen people at a time instead of randomly blanketed to an entire address book.
(All of the above lead me to wonder ... how long will it be until classes in netiquette become standard for emerging computer users? Probably too long.)
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
solitude—blessed solitude
Just a few more days until I'm off, for two days of blissful solitude. Don't get me wrong, I love my family ... but they've reached that stage. Every other minute, someone has a question, or needs food, or a drink, or has done something wrong, or has had something wrong done to them, or just wants to shriek at the top of his/her lungs. We're working on a system to try and split up our time—morning is supposed to be "kids' fun" time, where I plan activities and drop everything to read books and play games, etc. While afternoon is supposed to be "Mommy gets things done" time, where they play quietly (or not so quietly) in the basement while I do laundry, dishes, and other sundry chores upstairs. My part, may I say, is going swimmingly. Theirs is requiring some work, as the moment the upstairs TV goes off the whining begins. But they'll get used to it. And in July we have a stream of visitors in and out who can help keep the small people occupied, so that should be nice.
In the meantime, Mommy's vacation is just around the corner. I have a stack of books (9, at last count) to get through, a quiet hotel room with my name (and only my name) on it, and absolutely no plans. I may wing it! Just get up and say, hey, I think I'll go back to sleep. Ah, the bliss. And for two days (other than my check-in phone calls), the only words I'll need to exchange with any human being will involve me ordering food that I don't have to cook and that someone else brings me for a change.
Luxury clearly has different meanings for different people ... that whole paragraph is mine!
In the meantime, Mommy's vacation is just around the corner. I have a stack of books (9, at last count) to get through, a quiet hotel room with my name (and only my name) on it, and absolutely no plans. I may wing it! Just get up and say, hey, I think I'll go back to sleep. Ah, the bliss. And for two days (other than my check-in phone calls), the only words I'll need to exchange with any human being will involve me ordering food that I don't have to cook and that someone else brings me for a change.
Luxury clearly has different meanings for different people ... that whole paragraph is mine!
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
book report
Definitely done with the numbering! I went through several books on a recent weekend away, so here goes a stab at trying to catch up.
Three more books (maybe the final three?) in the Caroline Little House series. Interesting to watch how Caroline, determined to stay and make a home right where she is, where her family is, finds herself drawn to Charles's charm and his respect for her as a person—and how Charles, with his terminal case of wanderlust, finds himself drawn to the serious young schoolteacher, enough to try settling down. I think we all know how that turned out!
Rex Stout, Some Buried Caesar. A refreshing change from formula, taking Nero out of his comfort zone to solve a rural mystery. I really enjoyed how Nero took all the discomforts and changes to routine in stride, while Archie struggled to make his style work in the new surroundings.
Collected Works of Edgar Allan Poe, Vol. III. This includies "Ligeia" and "A Tale of the Ragged Mountains". I find Poe either utterly fascinating, or a complete drop-dead bore. This one had a little of both.
Jan Karon, These High Green Hills, third installment of the Mitford series. I think I've mentioned before how I totally didn't "get" these books when I read them 10 years ago or so, but now have much more of an appreciation for the simplicity of the writing (not knocking it—there can be more genius in simplicity than in all the 10 cent words in the dictionary) and the richly detailed characters. This installment was no different. A fun trip through the close-knit town of Mitford.
Three more books (maybe the final three?) in the Caroline Little House series. Interesting to watch how Caroline, determined to stay and make a home right where she is, where her family is, finds herself drawn to Charles's charm and his respect for her as a person—and how Charles, with his terminal case of wanderlust, finds himself drawn to the serious young schoolteacher, enough to try settling down. I think we all know how that turned out!
Rex Stout, Some Buried Caesar. A refreshing change from formula, taking Nero out of his comfort zone to solve a rural mystery. I really enjoyed how Nero took all the discomforts and changes to routine in stride, while Archie struggled to make his style work in the new surroundings.
Collected Works of Edgar Allan Poe, Vol. III. This includies "Ligeia" and "A Tale of the Ragged Mountains". I find Poe either utterly fascinating, or a complete drop-dead bore. This one had a little of both.
Jan Karon, These High Green Hills, third installment of the Mitford series. I think I've mentioned before how I totally didn't "get" these books when I read them 10 years ago or so, but now have much more of an appreciation for the simplicity of the writing (not knocking it—there can be more genius in simplicity than in all the 10 cent words in the dictionary) and the richly detailed characters. This installment was no different. A fun trip through the close-knit town of Mitford.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
time to get serious
With school out, summer is officially here. And it is time to get serious about a few things. I'm writing them here so I have some accountability out there to someone!
1. Diet and exercise.
2. Writing.
3. My Flylady habits—making the bed, wiping down the counters, vaccuuming, planning meals, etc.
4. Less time on the TV and more time playing and/or reading. Not just for the kids, but for me, too.
Those are the real biggies, and the things that I hope to make much more part of my regular routine than they are now. Which is far more easily said than done!
1. Diet and exercise.
2. Writing.
3. My Flylady habits—making the bed, wiping down the counters, vaccuuming, planning meals, etc.
4. Less time on the TV and more time playing and/or reading. Not just for the kids, but for me, too.
Those are the real biggies, and the things that I hope to make much more part of my regular routine than they are now. Which is far more easily said than done!
Friday, June 08, 2007
book report XVIII
Definitely have to quit numbering the book reports—I keep forgetting where I left off!
Continuing the classic kids' lit theme, I recently reread Sydney Taylor's All-of-a-Kind Family and More All-of-a-Kind Family. They're about a Jewish family in early 20th-century New York, and their experiences growing up. As is standard in these, they're all very simple, good people, and the children always well-meaning and extremely well brought up. But the characters have life and heart, and the books are nice reads.
I also read The Hudson River Mystery, Trixie Belden #28. Trixie's a younger, brainier, far less air-brushed version of Nancy Drew ... with the end result that you can read Trixie in your thirties and still feel like you had a rewarding experience. (Some might argue with me on the Nancy Drews, but I find her almost painfully insipid to read as an adult. Of course, I was always George when my friend Nikki and I played Nancy Drew ... but I got to be Trixie when we played Trixie Belden. Maybe that has something to do with it!) The upper numbers of the series (basically, 25-38) are very hard to find and quite expensive, relatively speaking. I have through #35, I think, but this one is the highest I've read. Looking forward to continuing on with the series as the books pop up in the system! This one was a very solid addition to the series.
And, in not-so-classic-but-related kids' lit, the Caroline series. A few years back, somebody at HarperCollins had the bright idea to write series of books based on the lives of Laura Ingalls Wilder's daughter, mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. I have all of the above. I like the Caroline series—you can see the woman LIW grew up to write about in the portrait of the little girl that comes out in the books. I've reread the first four, taking Caroline from a little girl living in Brookfield, WI, to being an older girl living in the wilderness of Concord, WI. I also read for the first time the latest installment in the Charlotte (Laura's grandmother) series, Across the Puddingstone Dam, which contains some really interesting pictures of life in the Boston area in the early 19th century.
Continuing the classic kids' lit theme, I recently reread Sydney Taylor's All-of-a-Kind Family and More All-of-a-Kind Family. They're about a Jewish family in early 20th-century New York, and their experiences growing up. As is standard in these, they're all very simple, good people, and the children always well-meaning and extremely well brought up. But the characters have life and heart, and the books are nice reads.
I also read The Hudson River Mystery, Trixie Belden #28. Trixie's a younger, brainier, far less air-brushed version of Nancy Drew ... with the end result that you can read Trixie in your thirties and still feel like you had a rewarding experience. (Some might argue with me on the Nancy Drews, but I find her almost painfully insipid to read as an adult. Of course, I was always George when my friend Nikki and I played Nancy Drew ... but I got to be Trixie when we played Trixie Belden. Maybe that has something to do with it!) The upper numbers of the series (basically, 25-38) are very hard to find and quite expensive, relatively speaking. I have through #35, I think, but this one is the highest I've read. Looking forward to continuing on with the series as the books pop up in the system! This one was a very solid addition to the series.
And, in not-so-classic-but-related kids' lit, the Caroline series. A few years back, somebody at HarperCollins had the bright idea to write series of books based on the lives of Laura Ingalls Wilder's daughter, mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. I have all of the above. I like the Caroline series—you can see the woman LIW grew up to write about in the portrait of the little girl that comes out in the books. I've reread the first four, taking Caroline from a little girl living in Brookfield, WI, to being an older girl living in the wilderness of Concord, WI. I also read for the first time the latest installment in the Charlotte (Laura's grandmother) series, Across the Puddingstone Dam, which contains some really interesting pictures of life in the Boston area in the early 19th century.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
vegetables
Prosaic subject, right? But as the mother of young children, vegetables are brought to my attention a lot. Unfortunately, not that often on my dinner table.
To begin with, my children have what I think are fairly typical kid appetites. Their idea of a vegetable is corn on the cob or French fries with ketchup. Sadly, their father's idea of a vegetable doesn't include too many other items. So when planning dinner, veggie options tend to be limited. Green beans, broccoli, or corn pretty much does it. Now, I'm not trying to set myself up as the lover of all things vegetable—I'm a meat and potatoes and lots and lots of bread kind of girl. But my tastes do run a bit wider. And I would love to be able to broaden the range of veggies that show up on the table ... but I'm not sure I have the energy to argue my entire family into eating them. Sauerkraut, for example. Yummy stuff, but probably wouldn't go over well with kids or husband. Ditto beets. Red cabbage. White cabbage, for that matter. My better half even picks the peppers out of the stir-fry! In many ways, this tends to be a battle that gets lost in the larger dinner-time issues, or one that's easy to put off until the kids are older, and presumably more reasonable about these things. But I do occasionally get wearied of hedging the truth when asked about my kids' veggie habits by my pediatrician ... and I am very tired of broccoli.
How (short of promising more time in the bedroom, which after all can't be used as a bribe for everything—I don't have that kind of time!) do you get a grown man to try new vegetables?
To begin with, my children have what I think are fairly typical kid appetites. Their idea of a vegetable is corn on the cob or French fries with ketchup. Sadly, their father's idea of a vegetable doesn't include too many other items. So when planning dinner, veggie options tend to be limited. Green beans, broccoli, or corn pretty much does it. Now, I'm not trying to set myself up as the lover of all things vegetable—I'm a meat and potatoes and lots and lots of bread kind of girl. But my tastes do run a bit wider. And I would love to be able to broaden the range of veggies that show up on the table ... but I'm not sure I have the energy to argue my entire family into eating them. Sauerkraut, for example. Yummy stuff, but probably wouldn't go over well with kids or husband. Ditto beets. Red cabbage. White cabbage, for that matter. My better half even picks the peppers out of the stir-fry! In many ways, this tends to be a battle that gets lost in the larger dinner-time issues, or one that's easy to put off until the kids are older, and presumably more reasonable about these things. But I do occasionally get wearied of hedging the truth when asked about my kids' veggie habits by my pediatrician ... and I am very tired of broccoli.
How (short of promising more time in the bedroom, which after all can't be used as a bribe for everything—I don't have that kind of time!) do you get a grown man to try new vegetables?
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
the people who touch our lives
I was thinking today about the effect that other people have on our lives. You meet someone, you spend time with them, then perhaps they drift out of your life. And you out of theirs. But you don't forget them—they come back into your mind because you saw someone who reminded you of them, you watched a show from the time period when you knew them, you just happened to think of something you did together. And when they're gone, that part of you that knew them is gone, too.
I spend a lot of time thinking about long-lost friends, wondering where various people have wound up, what they're doing. I've found a few of them ... none of whom seem as happy to hear from me as I am to have found them. Which goes to prove, really, that you can't recapture those moments in time. I can find my college friends, but we can't be in college again. I can find my friends from high school or grade school (or not—it's particularly hard with women or people with very common names. Sarah Miller, for example.), but would we even know each other today? And yet we have a shared past. Remembrances that no one else would get, experiences that we lived in common.
In the end, I suppose we have to be content with that—to know that our connections to other people continue to exist, even when we aren't using them. And those connections form the web that keeps us part of things, attaches us to the world. When they break, a part of us goes with them.
I spend a lot of time thinking about long-lost friends, wondering where various people have wound up, what they're doing. I've found a few of them ... none of whom seem as happy to hear from me as I am to have found them. Which goes to prove, really, that you can't recapture those moments in time. I can find my college friends, but we can't be in college again. I can find my friends from high school or grade school (or not—it's particularly hard with women or people with very common names. Sarah Miller, for example.), but would we even know each other today? And yet we have a shared past. Remembrances that no one else would get, experiences that we lived in common.
In the end, I suppose we have to be content with that—to know that our connections to other people continue to exist, even when we aren't using them. And those connections form the web that keeps us part of things, attaches us to the world. When they break, a part of us goes with them.
Monday, June 04, 2007
5 things that make me happy, IV
Today, I list things off because I genuinely am happy ... instead of, as on so many Mondays, needing to list off things to make me so!
1. Getting back to writing. Paralyzed by fear of failure (or fear of sucking, if there's a difference), I often forget how much I actually enjoy writing, looking on it as more of a chore. But once you get that rhythm going, it's a lot of fun to lose yourself in the story that your mind's eye is watching.
2. Quiet days. Today, nothing was scheduled but preschool pick-up and drop-off. So the rest of the day I could just catch up, do some reading, watch some TV, play with the kids—no rushing around and then trying to give my list a lick and a promise in the weary late afternoon.
3. Good TV. Tonight's TiVoed episode of CSI was a good one, I thought (even if it did have one of Lou's least favorite plot devices), and I also watched parts of two History Channel specials and one of my favorite Sex and the City episodes. It's easy to forget, since TV-bashing is so popular, that television can be an art form.
4. Snuggles. I got good, high-quality snuggles from everyone in the house today (well, except the dog!). Such a recharge!
5. Rain. I love cool, wet nights, the sound of rain hitting the roof, and the whoosh of a car going past on a wet road.
1. Getting back to writing. Paralyzed by fear of failure (or fear of sucking, if there's a difference), I often forget how much I actually enjoy writing, looking on it as more of a chore. But once you get that rhythm going, it's a lot of fun to lose yourself in the story that your mind's eye is watching.
2. Quiet days. Today, nothing was scheduled but preschool pick-up and drop-off. So the rest of the day I could just catch up, do some reading, watch some TV, play with the kids—no rushing around and then trying to give my list a lick and a promise in the weary late afternoon.
3. Good TV. Tonight's TiVoed episode of CSI was a good one, I thought (even if it did have one of Lou's least favorite plot devices), and I also watched parts of two History Channel specials and one of my favorite Sex and the City episodes. It's easy to forget, since TV-bashing is so popular, that television can be an art form.
4. Snuggles. I got good, high-quality snuggles from everyone in the house today (well, except the dog!). Such a recharge!
5. Rain. I love cool, wet nights, the sound of rain hitting the roof, and the whoosh of a car going past on a wet road.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
about a boy
Today, I marvel at my son Greyson's quick wit and phenomenal memory.
While volunteering at his school this morning, I got to sit in on a discussion about dinosaurs. The teacher would ask a child to name a dinosaur and talk about something they knew about the dinosaur. Greyson, when called on, named the velociraptor, and said it ran really fast. Then he said, "But I can run SO fast!", illustrating with his hands. The teacher asked him which could run fastest, Greyson or the velociraptor. After a moment's thought, he answered that of course he could run faster ... because the velociraptor is extinct! I admired the quickness and accuracy of the answer, and the fact that he had clearly put some thought into the question. (It's a lot of extrapolation, but I like that he's showing signs of an interest in scholarship and deductive reasoning. Bodes well for his future as an interesting dinner-table companion!)
Over the course of our long trip a few months ago, Lou and I were both blown away by the breadth of Grey's memory. This trip occurred about two weeks after a terrible accident (which Grey later admitted he had caused) happened that put Lou's laptop out of commission. Lou's laptop is known in Greyson's world as the keeper of Titan Quest, a computer game. Grey is obsessed with said game, and has about 13 different characters (give or take a few), all at different levels of the game and with different skill sets. When quizzed in the middle of a trip, weeks away from having been able to play the game, Greyson could still remember each one of his characters, their level, where they had stopped in the game, and their skill sets. Imagine having that level of recall!
On the same trip, he surprised both of us a couple of times. During a stop in the hometown of Lou's alma mater, we asked Greyson if he knew where we were. He nodded wisely and said, "We're in college." Neither of us remembered making a big deal out of that, or really telling him a lot about Lou's college experience. And when asked how he knew, he looked at us and said, "Uh, multitalented?" Which is code for "I don't remember/I'm not going to tell you". And is always said in a very "duh" tone of voice. Later that same day, we pulled off the highway, following our GPS to the hotel we were staying in that night. As we started down the offramp, Greyson said, "Oh, I've been here!" And he kept saying, "I've been to this place." As we paid our toll and moved onto the main street, I realized that he was right—we had been there! When he was just over 2, we'd made the same trip, and had stayed in the same hotel ... and almost three years later, he not only remembered the hotel, but also remembered the offramp. Scary stuff, a small boy's memory. If only there was some way to harness that power and use it for good...
While volunteering at his school this morning, I got to sit in on a discussion about dinosaurs. The teacher would ask a child to name a dinosaur and talk about something they knew about the dinosaur. Greyson, when called on, named the velociraptor, and said it ran really fast. Then he said, "But I can run SO fast!", illustrating with his hands. The teacher asked him which could run fastest, Greyson or the velociraptor. After a moment's thought, he answered that of course he could run faster ... because the velociraptor is extinct! I admired the quickness and accuracy of the answer, and the fact that he had clearly put some thought into the question. (It's a lot of extrapolation, but I like that he's showing signs of an interest in scholarship and deductive reasoning. Bodes well for his future as an interesting dinner-table companion!)
Over the course of our long trip a few months ago, Lou and I were both blown away by the breadth of Grey's memory. This trip occurred about two weeks after a terrible accident (which Grey later admitted he had caused) happened that put Lou's laptop out of commission. Lou's laptop is known in Greyson's world as the keeper of Titan Quest, a computer game. Grey is obsessed with said game, and has about 13 different characters (give or take a few), all at different levels of the game and with different skill sets. When quizzed in the middle of a trip, weeks away from having been able to play the game, Greyson could still remember each one of his characters, their level, where they had stopped in the game, and their skill sets. Imagine having that level of recall!
On the same trip, he surprised both of us a couple of times. During a stop in the hometown of Lou's alma mater, we asked Greyson if he knew where we were. He nodded wisely and said, "We're in college." Neither of us remembered making a big deal out of that, or really telling him a lot about Lou's college experience. And when asked how he knew, he looked at us and said, "Uh, multitalented?" Which is code for "I don't remember/I'm not going to tell you". And is always said in a very "duh" tone of voice. Later that same day, we pulled off the highway, following our GPS to the hotel we were staying in that night. As we started down the offramp, Greyson said, "Oh, I've been here!" And he kept saying, "I've been to this place." As we paid our toll and moved onto the main street, I realized that he was right—we had been there! When he was just over 2, we'd made the same trip, and had stayed in the same hotel ... and almost three years later, he not only remembered the hotel, but also remembered the offramp. Scary stuff, a small boy's memory. If only there was some way to harness that power and use it for good...
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
armor
I was thinking the other day about armor. Not the kind my kids dress up in—the kind I do.
We (suburban moms of young children) tend to refer to our clothes as "uniforms", mostly because we wear the same clothes every day. It's easier than having to think about what to wear, it's all-purpose stuff, it moves easily as we chase toddlers/preschoolers around, etc. For some of us, it's sweats, for some, jeans and T-shirts. You get the point. I think many of us feel somewhat imprisoned in our uniform, unable to wear something more exciting/attractive/fashionable due to the various restraints on our lifestyle. But the flip side to the discontent caused by looking the same every day is that you develop a comfortableness, a reliance, on knowing what you look like. Even if you're not necessarily happy about it, you unconsciously rely on it to project a certain image.
These thoughts came up on Sunday, when we attended a party with some of Lou's coworkers. I'd met two of those coworkers before, but none of the wives. And since it was a nice day, and since I've been trying hard to expand my fashion horizons and start wearing all the clothes that have gathered dust in my closet during my "pregnancy years", I dug out a sundress. Leaving the house, I felt comfortable. The dress fit me well (better than it has in years), didn't overemphasize any of my problem areas, wasn't inappropriate. But then I arrived at the party. And almost immediately felt ... overdressed. Too young. Too loud. Not refined enough. As though I had an embarrassingly large number of children. Simultaneously too permissive with and too overoccupied with my children. The whole nine yards. I felt like every female eye in the place was on me, and they were all critical.
This kind of self-consciousness wasn't atypical for me up to just a couple of years ago. Socially, I've always felt a bit like a fish out of water among "normal" people. But I've really worked hard at it in recent years, and had grown to feel that I had developed a certain amount of confidence in who I am, confidence that should have enabled me to walk into that party and feel that I was good enough. But, I was wearing a dress. I kept thinking that if only I had worn jeans, I'd feel so much more comfortable. What I'm not sure of is what would have made me feel more comfortable? If I were wearing jeans, would I have had the confidence to let go of all my old insecurities? (Since, let's face it, most of those people probably didn't think any of those things ... and if they did, it probably came more from me feeling uncomfortable than because they were truly critical.) If I were wearing jeans, would I have felt that I embodied all the things I thought the rest of the party-goers were thinking, and so it was okay that they were thinking them? Or, if I were wearing jeans, would I simply not have cared?
I guess my point is that I was shocked to find how much my clothes affected my comfort and confidence level, and how much they affected my ability to walk up to people and speak as though I were an adult on their level. I spent the first half-hour of the party wishing I were invisible ... and it's been a long time since I felt that level of inadequacy. I suppose, after almost 5 years of the "uniform", it's to be expected that venturing out of it would have its pitfalls. And in no way am I renouncing dresses, or skirts, or any of the less mainstream items in my closet ... but I need to be more aware that who I am on the outside doesn't have to dictate who I am on the inside.
We (suburban moms of young children) tend to refer to our clothes as "uniforms", mostly because we wear the same clothes every day. It's easier than having to think about what to wear, it's all-purpose stuff, it moves easily as we chase toddlers/preschoolers around, etc. For some of us, it's sweats, for some, jeans and T-shirts. You get the point. I think many of us feel somewhat imprisoned in our uniform, unable to wear something more exciting/attractive/fashionable due to the various restraints on our lifestyle. But the flip side to the discontent caused by looking the same every day is that you develop a comfortableness, a reliance, on knowing what you look like. Even if you're not necessarily happy about it, you unconsciously rely on it to project a certain image.
These thoughts came up on Sunday, when we attended a party with some of Lou's coworkers. I'd met two of those coworkers before, but none of the wives. And since it was a nice day, and since I've been trying hard to expand my fashion horizons and start wearing all the clothes that have gathered dust in my closet during my "pregnancy years", I dug out a sundress. Leaving the house, I felt comfortable. The dress fit me well (better than it has in years), didn't overemphasize any of my problem areas, wasn't inappropriate. But then I arrived at the party. And almost immediately felt ... overdressed. Too young. Too loud. Not refined enough. As though I had an embarrassingly large number of children. Simultaneously too permissive with and too overoccupied with my children. The whole nine yards. I felt like every female eye in the place was on me, and they were all critical.
This kind of self-consciousness wasn't atypical for me up to just a couple of years ago. Socially, I've always felt a bit like a fish out of water among "normal" people. But I've really worked hard at it in recent years, and had grown to feel that I had developed a certain amount of confidence in who I am, confidence that should have enabled me to walk into that party and feel that I was good enough. But, I was wearing a dress. I kept thinking that if only I had worn jeans, I'd feel so much more comfortable. What I'm not sure of is what would have made me feel more comfortable? If I were wearing jeans, would I have had the confidence to let go of all my old insecurities? (Since, let's face it, most of those people probably didn't think any of those things ... and if they did, it probably came more from me feeling uncomfortable than because they were truly critical.) If I were wearing jeans, would I have felt that I embodied all the things I thought the rest of the party-goers were thinking, and so it was okay that they were thinking them? Or, if I were wearing jeans, would I simply not have cared?
I guess my point is that I was shocked to find how much my clothes affected my comfort and confidence level, and how much they affected my ability to walk up to people and speak as though I were an adult on their level. I spent the first half-hour of the party wishing I were invisible ... and it's been a long time since I felt that level of inadequacy. I suppose, after almost 5 years of the "uniform", it's to be expected that venturing out of it would have its pitfalls. And in no way am I renouncing dresses, or skirts, or any of the less mainstream items in my closet ... but I need to be more aware that who I am on the outside doesn't have to dictate who I am on the inside.
Friday, May 18, 2007
more kids' lit
Based on my stack, I appear to have been in a particularly youthful mood recently—either that, or my mental capacities have been so sapped that children's literature is all I can handle!
I reread L.M. Montgomery's Emily of New Moon, and was so curious to see what happened next that I rushed out and bought a copy of the sequel, Emily Climbs. Emily is a much different heroine than Anne (of Green Gables) in many ways, although they're very similar in many others. I can hear different portions of Montgomery's own childhood coming out in Emily's story, and I found the books (and Emily) inspiring. She is absolutely devoted to her dreams, and nothing gets in her way. Instead, she bends the obstacles she encounters to fit her needs.
Further rereading included Carol Ryrie Brink's Caddie Woodlawn, about her grandmother's experiences growing up in mid-nineteenth-century Wisconsin. And Plain Girl, about the experiences of a young Amish girl in the 1950s (fiction, or at least fictionalized) and her first exposure to the outside world. Both are solidly written, interesting tales. Finally, immortal classic Heidi (and why hasn't Disney co-opted that tale, I wonder?). Which, again, is a simple story about a little girl growing up. I also own the "sequel", Heidi Grows Up, but instead of being by Johanna Spyri, who wrote the original about her childhood in the Swiss Alps, it's by her translator. As I opened it to read again, I felt uncomfortable, as I'm not a big fan of "sequels" not written by the original author, and because I remember the story unfolding in a rather formulaic and uninspired fashion. So I decided not to keep it this time around. More room on someone else's shelf who might appreciate it more.
Whew! At least the stack is shrinking!
I reread L.M. Montgomery's Emily of New Moon, and was so curious to see what happened next that I rushed out and bought a copy of the sequel, Emily Climbs. Emily is a much different heroine than Anne (of Green Gables) in many ways, although they're very similar in many others. I can hear different portions of Montgomery's own childhood coming out in Emily's story, and I found the books (and Emily) inspiring. She is absolutely devoted to her dreams, and nothing gets in her way. Instead, she bends the obstacles she encounters to fit her needs.
Further rereading included Carol Ryrie Brink's Caddie Woodlawn, about her grandmother's experiences growing up in mid-nineteenth-century Wisconsin. And Plain Girl, about the experiences of a young Amish girl in the 1950s (fiction, or at least fictionalized) and her first exposure to the outside world. Both are solidly written, interesting tales. Finally, immortal classic Heidi (and why hasn't Disney co-opted that tale, I wonder?). Which, again, is a simple story about a little girl growing up. I also own the "sequel", Heidi Grows Up, but instead of being by Johanna Spyri, who wrote the original about her childhood in the Swiss Alps, it's by her translator. As I opened it to read again, I felt uncomfortable, as I'm not a big fan of "sequels" not written by the original author, and because I remember the story unfolding in a rather formulaic and uninspired fashion. So I decided not to keep it this time around. More room on someone else's shelf who might appreciate it more.
Whew! At least the stack is shrinking!
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Peppers and random thoughts
Anyone else remember the Peppers? Ben, Polly, Joel, David, and, not to be forgotten, Phronsie? Okay, if you don't, and you like 19th-century children's lit (and to be plunged into a much simpler world where "my whockety!" is considered racy language), you should do your best to find Margaret Sidney's Five Little Peppers series. Most of the sequels are out of print (although not hard to find on eBay), but I've managed to lay my hands on five of the 12: Five Little Peppers and How They Grew, Five Little Peppers Midway, Five Little Peppers Grown Up, Phronsie Pepper, and Five Little Peppers at School. The Peppers (and the cast of characters that they draw around them through their simplicity, goodness, and generosity of spirit) are a completely impossible bunch of really, really good people. And it's a refreshing world to plunge oneself into—escapist literature, to be sure! Where goodness nets you a loving (and super-rich) family and while grey clouds might threaten, everything always comes right in the end.
Randomly, I'm still struggling with time management (shocker!), have a toddler who is devilishly naughty (and all-too-highly-aware of how adorable she is), I love coffee and should go have some now, I must get back to running before someone asks me when I'm due (no, not pregnant—just look like it), and am running on such a raveled thread of patience that I think it's coming up to be time for a weekend. Until then, I'll try and be back soon with something more exciting than a book review (even though my read-books stack is starting to mount up!).
Randomly, I'm still struggling with time management (shocker!), have a toddler who is devilishly naughty (and all-too-highly-aware of how adorable she is), I love coffee and should go have some now, I must get back to running before someone asks me when I'm due (no, not pregnant—just look like it), and am running on such a raveled thread of patience that I think it's coming up to be time for a weekend. Until then, I'll try and be back soon with something more exciting than a book review (even though my read-books stack is starting to mount up!).
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
book report XVII
I think I may have lost count of the BR numbers at some point! Possibly I should just stop numbering them.
At any rate, working on the stack of finished books:
Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. Never read this one before, figured it was one of those "really should reads". I enjoyed her writing style, and thought it was an interesting memoir, but wasn't wowed for some reason.
L. Sprague de Camp and Catherine C. de Camp, Ancient Ruins and Archaeology. I bought this one because my better half has several books by L. Sprague de Camp in his science fiction library. I thought the combo of sf writer and archaeology ought to be interesting. Definitely was—the book contains brief essays describing the history and archaeological status of a dozen different sites around the world. Information packed, a little too much so maybe, and a good read ... but unfortunately, also copyrighted in '64 and many of the entries written earlier than that, so much of the archaeology and even some of the history is dated and occasionally incorrect. (Because of advances in our knowledge and theories today, not because of anything the de Camps got wrong at the time.) So a good read, but probably not that relevant today.
John Keats, Selected Poetry. Apparently, the only thing interesting about Keats was his (short) life. I found most of his poetry boring. Alas.
And, finally, my buddy Mr. L'Amour, Hills of Homicide. A book of short stories in the "private eye" style. Not my favorites of his—the plots and characterizations were much more formulaic than I've ever found his Westerns to be, and also a little too evocative of other detective stories. Not set far enough apart. Although you could tell it was L'Amour style: the fight scenes were intricately choreographed and described so that they could be reproduced down to the last detail (side note: I wonder if, in the movies made from his books, any of his fight scenes are filmed exactly as written? I'll have to watch some and find out.), and his private eyes were much like his western heroes—hard-boiled but with a soft inside!
I have a large stack of classic children's lit to report on next time.
At any rate, working on the stack of finished books:
Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. Never read this one before, figured it was one of those "really should reads". I enjoyed her writing style, and thought it was an interesting memoir, but wasn't wowed for some reason.
L. Sprague de Camp and Catherine C. de Camp, Ancient Ruins and Archaeology. I bought this one because my better half has several books by L. Sprague de Camp in his science fiction library. I thought the combo of sf writer and archaeology ought to be interesting. Definitely was—the book contains brief essays describing the history and archaeological status of a dozen different sites around the world. Information packed, a little too much so maybe, and a good read ... but unfortunately, also copyrighted in '64 and many of the entries written earlier than that, so much of the archaeology and even some of the history is dated and occasionally incorrect. (Because of advances in our knowledge and theories today, not because of anything the de Camps got wrong at the time.) So a good read, but probably not that relevant today.
John Keats, Selected Poetry. Apparently, the only thing interesting about Keats was his (short) life. I found most of his poetry boring. Alas.
And, finally, my buddy Mr. L'Amour, Hills of Homicide. A book of short stories in the "private eye" style. Not my favorites of his—the plots and characterizations were much more formulaic than I've ever found his Westerns to be, and also a little too evocative of other detective stories. Not set far enough apart. Although you could tell it was L'Amour style: the fight scenes were intricately choreographed and described so that they could be reproduced down to the last detail (side note: I wonder if, in the movies made from his books, any of his fight scenes are filmed exactly as written? I'll have to watch some and find out.), and his private eyes were much like his western heroes—hard-boiled but with a soft inside!
I have a large stack of classic children's lit to report on next time.
Monday, April 30, 2007
over-scheduled
Who would have thought that a family's schedule could be so complicated, when the oldest child isn't even five? And yet, here we are. Every day this week except for Friday I have at least two different things going on (not counting preschool). Next week may actually be worse, although the events are heavily backloaded on to the end of the week, so the early week may be quiet. Then you plan in a few currently unscheduled activities, when moms suggest park time post-preschool or call last minute to figure something out.
Plus, this summer is looming, with summer camps and other activities to be decided on. Birthday parties, camps, classes ... some of which are already booked up, and it isn't even officially May.
And we live a pretty low-activity life! It's amazing that moms ever get anything done, frankly. Especially moms of preschoolers. Now, don't get me wrong—I vastly prefer to have too many opportunities to do things to having no opportunities, but it does lead to situations like this:
A fellow mom and I had made plans to get our kids together Wednesday afternoon. She catches up with me post-preschool to say that she can't do it Wednesday, another commitment has come up. To which I reply that that works out well for me, as I also had another commitment come up for Wednesday. Then we decide on Thursday instead. Five minutes later, as we're loading our kids in the car, both of us spontaneously freak out, realizing we'd forgotten what day we'd just decided on, and then had to reconfirm for Thursday.
Seriously, can someone just implant my calendar into my arm for greater ease of scheduling? Cause I know it's only going to get worse from here!
Plus, this summer is looming, with summer camps and other activities to be decided on. Birthday parties, camps, classes ... some of which are already booked up, and it isn't even officially May.
And we live a pretty low-activity life! It's amazing that moms ever get anything done, frankly. Especially moms of preschoolers. Now, don't get me wrong—I vastly prefer to have too many opportunities to do things to having no opportunities, but it does lead to situations like this:
A fellow mom and I had made plans to get our kids together Wednesday afternoon. She catches up with me post-preschool to say that she can't do it Wednesday, another commitment has come up. To which I reply that that works out well for me, as I also had another commitment come up for Wednesday. Then we decide on Thursday instead. Five minutes later, as we're loading our kids in the car, both of us spontaneously freak out, realizing we'd forgotten what day we'd just decided on, and then had to reconfirm for Thursday.
Seriously, can someone just implant my calendar into my arm for greater ease of scheduling? Cause I know it's only going to get worse from here!
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
book report XVI
Just catching up on my book stack a little!
Recently read (all new, too!):
Robert Ballard, Exploring the Titanic. I thought this one might not be too edifying, as it's basically a kids' version of the story of and the finding of the great ship. But really it was very detailed and fact-filled, and the pictures were excellent. A very nice addition to the Titanic section of my library.
Alison Gopnik, Andrew Meltzoff, and Patricia Kuhl, The Scientist in the Crib: What Early Learning Tells Us About the Mind. I find the premise of this very interesting—that while we're teaching and studying our children, they're simultaneously performing experiments on us. It's a very different way to think about parenting, and I found a lot of the examples they used from their research highly fascinating. But I also thought there was a lot of dry material and maybe in places too much information, making it a little hard to follow and leaving me without a lot of solid memories of what I'd read.
Helene Hanff, Letter from New York. Hanff is perhaps best known for 84, Charing Cross Lane, a chronicle of letters she exchanged with the staff of a bookstore in London from her New York apartment. While that book is on my shelf, I haven't read it yet. I did see the movie, and was unimpressed, although I blame that largely on my dislike of Anne Bancroft. I've never seen her in a role that didn't make her seem like a mean, bitter woman, and this one was no exception. As a matter of fact, it was difficult to read Letter from New York without putting Bancroft's face and mannerisms on the writer, and that was a shame. Because Letter from New York was a lovely book. First written as a series of radio broadcasts on the BBC, the entries consist of vignettes from a New York life. They range broadly across all sorts of topics, but what comes across very clearly is that this is a woman who loves New York and loves her life there. Made me homesick ... but also made me reflect that you don't have to live in New York to love your home and love your life. If each of us were to write a monthly vignette about our lives, would genuine love and enjoyment be the end result when someone read them altogether? And if not, wouldn't that be a good goal?
Recently read (all new, too!):
Robert Ballard, Exploring the Titanic. I thought this one might not be too edifying, as it's basically a kids' version of the story of and the finding of the great ship. But really it was very detailed and fact-filled, and the pictures were excellent. A very nice addition to the Titanic section of my library.
Alison Gopnik, Andrew Meltzoff, and Patricia Kuhl, The Scientist in the Crib: What Early Learning Tells Us About the Mind. I find the premise of this very interesting—that while we're teaching and studying our children, they're simultaneously performing experiments on us. It's a very different way to think about parenting, and I found a lot of the examples they used from their research highly fascinating. But I also thought there was a lot of dry material and maybe in places too much information, making it a little hard to follow and leaving me without a lot of solid memories of what I'd read.
Helene Hanff, Letter from New York. Hanff is perhaps best known for 84, Charing Cross Lane, a chronicle of letters she exchanged with the staff of a bookstore in London from her New York apartment. While that book is on my shelf, I haven't read it yet. I did see the movie, and was unimpressed, although I blame that largely on my dislike of Anne Bancroft. I've never seen her in a role that didn't make her seem like a mean, bitter woman, and this one was no exception. As a matter of fact, it was difficult to read Letter from New York without putting Bancroft's face and mannerisms on the writer, and that was a shame. Because Letter from New York was a lovely book. First written as a series of radio broadcasts on the BBC, the entries consist of vignettes from a New York life. They range broadly across all sorts of topics, but what comes across very clearly is that this is a woman who loves New York and loves her life there. Made me homesick ... but also made me reflect that you don't have to live in New York to love your home and love your life. If each of us were to write a monthly vignette about our lives, would genuine love and enjoyment be the end result when someone read them altogether? And if not, wouldn't that be a good goal?
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
the return of the sun
Yes, we finally have achieved some warm weather here! We've spent most of the last four days outdoors, gotten lots of sun and fresh air, and generally basked in the radiant warmth.
And where has it gotten us? Well, let's see. My kids are tired, cranky, sunburnt, and generally not far removed from the poor attitude that I was blaming on the winter blahs. I'm tired, cranky, suffering from a summer cold, and definitely not feeling any more patient than I was during the winter blahs. When you're huddled up in coats, dashing from car to house to try and stay as warm as possible, it seems like all you need is a little sun and a little heat as your panacea for everything that ails you. Then you get it, and you realize there's more to it than that.
Not that this realization is going to help my children return to their old sweet selves, or me develop more patience ... but at least I'm not going to be expecting better temperatures to make all the difference.
Hoping for a more positive experience to share tomorrow!
And where has it gotten us? Well, let's see. My kids are tired, cranky, sunburnt, and generally not far removed from the poor attitude that I was blaming on the winter blahs. I'm tired, cranky, suffering from a summer cold, and definitely not feeling any more patient than I was during the winter blahs. When you're huddled up in coats, dashing from car to house to try and stay as warm as possible, it seems like all you need is a little sun and a little heat as your panacea for everything that ails you. Then you get it, and you realize there's more to it than that.
Not that this realization is going to help my children return to their old sweet selves, or me develop more patience ... but at least I'm not going to be expecting better temperatures to make all the difference.
Hoping for a more positive experience to share tomorrow!
Monday, April 16, 2007
5 things that make me happy, III
It's Monday, it's the first day of "School vacation week" (vacation for whom, I ask? Cause no one I know is enjoying it!), and my children have been ... challenging, to say the least. So, time to think about the positives!
1. Lists. Making them helps me organize my thoughts, and crossing things off them makes me feel that I've accomplished something.
2. Hot baths with Bath & Body Works bubble bath. Nice, luxurious soaks in foamy bubbles with exotic scents. Need I say more?
3. Coffee. I've said it before, and I'm saying it now. It's good stuff. (Although Charles tried a sip of my latte today and pronounced it "yucky"—which is exactly why I let him try it!)
4. Clean floors. I mean, in the sense of everything being picked up. I often forget exactly how much that lifts my mood, but it's amazing how well it works.
5. Chatty friends. Twice today, my mood was saved by being able to pick up the phone and chat about nothing. It's not everyone I can spend a long time on the phone with, but I'm grateful for everyone with whom I can.
And now, to enjoy #s 2 and 3, and then to bed. Hopefully for a better day tomorrow. Perhaps the weather could be persuaded to cooperate and create some semblance of a spring day. I mean, it is April—are temperatures above 40 really so much to ask?
1. Lists. Making them helps me organize my thoughts, and crossing things off them makes me feel that I've accomplished something.
2. Hot baths with Bath & Body Works bubble bath. Nice, luxurious soaks in foamy bubbles with exotic scents. Need I say more?
3. Coffee. I've said it before, and I'm saying it now. It's good stuff. (Although Charles tried a sip of my latte today and pronounced it "yucky"—which is exactly why I let him try it!)
4. Clean floors. I mean, in the sense of everything being picked up. I often forget exactly how much that lifts my mood, but it's amazing how well it works.
5. Chatty friends. Twice today, my mood was saved by being able to pick up the phone and chat about nothing. It's not everyone I can spend a long time on the phone with, but I'm grateful for everyone with whom I can.
And now, to enjoy #s 2 and 3, and then to bed. Hopefully for a better day tomorrow. Perhaps the weather could be persuaded to cooperate and create some semblance of a spring day. I mean, it is April—are temperatures above 40 really so much to ask?
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