Thursday, June 04, 2015

Challenge Accepted! May Books

The month of May already seems so long ago. Some of these books feel like books I read ages ago, not just a few weeks ago. So apologies for the lack of totally awesometastic reviews.

I Sold My Soul On eBay by Hemant Mehta (A book written by someone under 30)
I'd heard of this book a while back and started following The Friendly Atheist Hemant Mehta's YouTube videos. Later I started following his blog too. Now, I have even had some correspondence with him, in which he agreed to read my book and write a testimonial for it. It was high time I read that book that I'd heard of so long ago.

Mehta was first known as "the atheist who sold his soul on eBay". He explains in the book how, though he'd left his own religion as a youth and had become an atheist, he knew very little about other religions, Christianity in particular. He decided if he wanted to be sure of his atheism, he ought to look into other religions' understanding of God as well. He came up with the idea of auctioning off Sunday visits at church on eBay. For every $10 bid, he would spend one Sunday visiting the church of the bidder's choice. Expecting to get maybe a few bids tops, this seemed an easy enough experiment. Little did he expect the massive media response and a final bid of over $500. He was a little worried about 50 weeks of church, but the winning bidder was Jim Henderson, a former pastor and author of Evangelism Without Additives, who only requested he visit 15 churches of his choice and write reviews of them for his website.

Mehta visited churches of all shapes and sizes, from small country chapels to internationally renown megachurches. In this book, he breaks the churches into 4 categories, divided by size, and writes about his experiences, opinions, and suggestions for them as an atheist. He is pretty fair too. He writes about what he liked about each church and what he thinks would be better improved.

It was interesting for me, as someone who has been to so many churches myself, but always as a believer. In fact, that's the target audience of this book - believers. It was even published by a Christian publishing house with a foreword by Rob Bell. He does offer some great insights and advice.

As a former believer myself, though, I noticed a few areas in which it's obvious Mehta himself was never a Christian. (He was a Jain.)  For instance, one of the things he likes least is when pastors spend an inordinate amount of their sermon quoting and reading Scripture. He felt it was hard to apply these sermons to his own life and preferred pastors who took a single verse or two and expounded upon it with information that was applicable to his life. This of course makes sense for an outsider, but for the insider, a Scripture-heavy sermon can be far more appealing to some Christians (like I was once). I know I hated "fluff" sermons but devoured the Scripture-laden ones. I felt those were the ones that were the "meatiest", and those churches were the most in-tune with God. To each his own, I suppose.

He also didn't like the services that spent a significant amount of time in singing. Once again, I think he missed the point. For believers, at least those like me, the singing is the best part, the part where we really poured our hearts out to God. It was deeply meaningful, even if the chorus was repeated a dozen times. For outsiders though, it was repetitive and way too long. He would like to see the singing end a little sooner with a lot less repetition. Maybe a lot of people do get bored with that part, but for many, that part could last all day.

On the other hand, he was spot on about just about everything else. I particularly (now) sympathize with his indignation of churches that called him "lost" and made him and other believers out to be sad, misguided, even evil people. That is my pet peeve now too. I never realized how insulting being called "lost" is. As a believer, I guess I never thought of the "lost" people in the audience hearing that as anything other than true, as if they were sitting there thinking, "Gee, I really AM lost... now do I get saved or harden my heart?" But I'll just reiterate what Mehta said - since becoming an atheist, I've never felt more "found" in my life!

The book is full of good suggestions, and to each church he had something complimentary to say. He really tried to get something out of each one. Some he enjoyed much more than others. Some gave him something to chew on as he went home. But ultimately, while he got a better understanding of the Christian faith, and even came away with some great life lessons, his atheism was not changed.

I recommend this book to believers and non-believers alike. If you want to know how your church comes across to outsiders, it's worth a read. He won't offend you. I'm serious. He isn't called "the friendly atheist" for nothing.


Disgruntled by Asali Solomon (A book published this year)
This book is good. I mean really good. I heard about it, like I hear about so many books, on NPR's Fresh Air. Asali Solomon was being interviewed about her debut novel Disgruntled, and the interview made me excited to read it. I had to wait until it came out, and then I had to wait until I had a spare $25 for the hardcover version, the only version currently available, but once it arrived, I couldn't wait to dive in.

The story follows young Kenya from childhood into early adulthood. Kenya was different. Not because she was black - there were lots of black children in her school - but because she celebrated Kwanzaa instead of Christmas and wasn't allowed to say the Pledge of Allegiance and didn't eat pork and didn't go to church. Her parents were black-nationalists, and Kenya was made fun of horribly for her family's beliefs. It's a coming-of-age story, with descriptions of all the childhood moments we can all relate to, regardless of race or religion. I loved that about the book. Solomon describes moments such as laughing and making fun of other kids even while on the inside knowing you too are the exact thing that you're making fun of, but not knowing what to do about it, you just keep on taunting to fit in. She describes the feeling of liking someone so much and thinking maybe they like you back and analyzing everything they do and say to figure it out, reminding you that if you are lucky enough to not be a teenager anymore, you would never want to be one again.

But more than that, I also loved the insight it gives into race and what it's like to be black or any other minority. Face it, when you're white and live in suburbia, you just don't have a clue. Sure you might "know" what kind of issues race poses, you might "understand" what others are feeling and experiences, but really, you can't truly "get" it when you've never been there. This book draws you deep, deep into Kenya's mind and heart, and you feel for a second you actually sort of "get" it.

I loved the characters, loved the story line, loved the realism, and was sad when the book ended. I wanted more. I want to know what happens to Kenya ultimately. What does she grow up to do? Who does she meet? What happens with her parents?

Consider this my definite recommendation for a book to add to your reading list.


The Girl From the Well by Rin Chupeco (A book based entirely on its cover)
This one was supposed to satisfy the "Mystery or thriller" category, but it was anything but scary or thrilling. It was somewhat mysterious. But truth be told, it was an impulse buy while getting groceries at Kroger, and I did indeed pick it based on it's cover. It said something about being a mixture of The Ring and The Grudge, both of which scared the poo-poo out of me, so I bought the book.

It was maybe like The Ring or The Grudge if those movies had been written for and by twelve year olds. Like The Shakespeare Stories did for Shakespeare. But I still confess I enjoyed the book, in a light-reading kind of way. The story is told through the point of view of the ghost of Okiku, a Japanese servant girl several centuries dead. She is the kind of ghost who avenges child murders, but when she meets Tark, a moody teenage boy with a strange essence, she begins to change.

Dun dun DUN!

But seriously, it's a book to read on the beach or in a bath, but don't bother if you're looking for something thrilling. Unless you're a twelve year old, though you might find R.L. Stine's Fear Street series more exciting. (Gawd, those used to scare me to death.)


Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris (A book a friend recommended)
I found this book in my bookshelf when I was arranging it a few weeks ago. I pulled this out and didn't recognize it at all. Where did this come from? Then I vaguely recalled my friend Devon lending it to me when I first moved back to the States, after lamenting to her how few books I had. She said it was funny; I put it somewhere and then completely forgot about it.

It looked easy enough, and with only a week left in May and not a lot of books to show for it, I decided to go for it. It's a collection of humorous memoirs, easy to digest quickly. At first, I didn't enjoy it. The first couple of stories came across to me as failed attempts at funny. The testimonials on the back promised gut-busting laughter and hilarity, and I just didn't really think it was funny at all. Until the third story, where an unexpected laugh broke from my chest. And as I went on, I came across moments that did elicit a good chortle from me. I began enjoying it a lot more, appreciating his sardonic humor. He makes fun of everyone and give no one a pass. I thought as I read it, "I could never be this disparaging to my family and friends! And therefore I will never be a comedic memoirist." I had to respect his lack of respect. It takes a lot of guts to make fun of your poor mother and father so much, your poor siblings so much, your poor life partner. It's easy to mock yourself, but to mock the people you love, who will groan and be pissed and slam the door in your face when they see what you've put in print? Heroic.


The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins (A book by an author you've never read before)
My daughter, Fi, has just worked her way through the Harry Potter series for a second time, and we figured it was time to introduce her to something new. The problem with an eight year old who reads on an eighth grade level is that books that are appropriate for her age are too short and easy, but books for her reading level are too mature. She wants to read The Hunger Games, but I need to read them first to see how mature they are. And I'll admit it, I wanted to read them myself anyway!


I've seen the first two movies, so I knew roughly how the book was going to go, but it's been a while, so a lot of things were still a surprise to me - even the end! I vaguely remembered how it ended, but I actually gasped at the dénouement.


It's easy reading but highly entertaining. This must be the thing with dystopian YA. It reminded me a lot of the Divergent series, right down to the first-person-present-tense. (What's with YA and first-person-present-tense?!) It didn't bother me most of the time though, which means Collins did it well enough.

I'm sure everyone knows what the story is about, but in case you don't: Once again, we are taken to a future dystopian society where the common people are treated poorly by the reigning, wealthy class. In this case, people are divided into districts, and each year, to remind the districts what happens when they rebel, the Capitol holds The Hunger Games, in which two tributes from each district are chosen to fight each other to the death on live TV in a controlled arena full of deathly hazards. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark are chosen from District 12, two people who barely know each other but still have a lot of connections and a little history. They are trained briefly then let loose in the arena to fight all the other tributes from all the other districts.

I'm now reading the second book in the series, checking off another box in the Reading Challenge, but to say which one would give too much away!

I am also of the opinion that at least Book 1 will be okay for Fi to read. It isn't as bloody as the movie (though there is definitely blood and death, but nothing she didn't find in the later Harry Potter books).  The second one however might have some more mature romance themes, but I'll know how I feel about those after I'm finished.  (The romance is the only reason I haven't handed Fi the Divergent books. I'm no prude, but I don't think my eight year old is even remotely interested in kissing yet, judging by the EW!s she cries while watching Disney teeny-bopper TV.)



To see what else I have read this year:
April
March
February
January

Monday, June 01, 2015

Cool June



It's been unseasonably cool this year. Already we're in June and long sleeves are still appropriate. I, for one, love it. I'm a cooler climate kind of gal.

The cool (and wet) weather, however, has been a major buzz kill for the kids. The ground is swampy and soft, the grass is growing high because we can't find a time to mow the grass with all the storms and flooding, so the kids end up cooped inside the house a lot. This is uncool for many kids, but my Lolly especially can't stand it. She's a bouncy ball of a six year old, who reminds me of that movie Flubber where once it starts bouncing it never stops.

I've had a lot on my mind these past few weeks, a lot of stress, and it's making me quite a bit less patient than usual. I've thoroughly enjoyed the dull, wet weather, that allows me to lie on the couch with a book or take spontaneous naps, but the kids do not deem this appropriate. Instead, while all I want to do is relax and take my mind off everything, all they want to do is bounce, bounce, bounce all around me. And just as I imagine a bouncy rubber ball of energy wouldn't be able to listen to anything outside it's own boing, boing, boing, my kids seem to have lost the ability to hear me too. Especially Lolly.

Between Saturday and Sunday, I must have told Lolly three trillion times to STOP JUMPING ON THE FURNITURE. She and her little brother spent the greater part of the days bouncing from the couch to the rocking chair to the ottoman to the armchair to the coffee table back to the couch where I was lying trying to read my damn book. I seriously wanted to kill something. (Maybe one of the cute bunny rabbits that have decided our overgrown yard is the perfect place to frolic amongst the clover.)


I screamed at them. I grounded them. I put them in corners and sent them to their rooms. I screamed some more. Finally resigned, I grumpily assured them that if one of them got hurt - which they certainly would - I wasn't going to feel sorry for them. So just do what you want, but don't come crying to me when you fall on your face.

It wasn't my best moment.

Scott and I decided we had to do something to let them expend some energy, so Sunday evening we took them to the indoor swimming pool. It certainly brightened everyone's moods. When we got home, Scott put Jaguar to bed, and I tucked in the girls. Lolly asked me to lie down next to her and give her a hug.

Lying beside her, I told her I loved her. "I love you, too, Mummy," she replied in a small voice.

I apologized for being a grumpy mummy. I told her we both needed to work on being better. So we cut a deal.

June is Lolly's month. Sort of. Scott's grandmother, Lolly's namesake, was born in June. I told her, "Tomorrow is the start of June. That's YOUR month in a way, because it was Gran's birthday month. Why don't we make a pact? If you promise to listen more, I'll promise to yell less. Deal?"

Lolly felt this was a fair deal. We shook on it and sealed it with a hug. "Remember in the morning, it'll be June. I'll promise not to yell so much, and you try to remember to listen and do as you're told," I reminded as I clicked off the bedroom light.


This morning Lolly woke up groggy. She's not a morning person. I asked her to go get dressed while I made her breakfast. After the third time asking her, I reminded her of our deal. I reminded her I wouldn't yell at her to go get dressed, but she needed to remember to do her part. She got up and got dressed. It was to be another cool day, and I made sure she had a cardigan on over her dress. It felt good to have a chilled morning with no arguing or shouting. It felt good to be cool.

So I have dubbed this month Cool June. In the morning, I'll try the name out on Lolly, see if she likes it too. We're all going to try to be cool for the next several weeks. I especially want to be cool. I like myself better when I'm not all twisted up in frustrated angry knots, and even if Lolly can't uphold her end of the bargain (she is only six), I want uphold mine. For her sake. For all the kids' sakes. For MY sake. I don't want to be the mom who yells all the time. I want to be the mom who's cool.




FWIW, my kids are pretty cool, too.

Thursday, May 28, 2015

For Posterity: Kids Say the Darndest Things Part 2

It Is Your Destiny
When trying to use the word "destiny" in a sentence:
Fifi: You know, like, "it's your destiny", like "It's my destiny to be President."


It's All a Lie
Lolly: I know the tooth fairy isn't real.
A few moments later...
Lolly: Since I know it's not real, can I get two dollars?


Colorblind
Lolly: Mummy, are we white or black?... I was jus' wondering.


Laughing Gas
At the dentist, getting a cavity filled:
Fifi: I feel funny. My brain has gone astray.



Friday, May 22, 2015

For Paula For Robert



The Infinite Moment of Creation

Star collides with star
thrust from the infinite black hole
blasts explodes
swirls twists tumbles
confused
collects grows collects spins
collects

disperses

Sun gathers chaos
pulls bits into her orbit
swirls of stardust she sets in circles
keeps
heats cools heats cools

nurtures

Life sparks from within
long lost memories of life
spark within
the stardust
life erupts tumbles forms
evolves grows swims
crawls out of water

blinks

Learns to cry
walk sing love.


And the form made from stardust fell
in love with the most beautiful
form and they gave birth to
more
like the debris that formed and bore
them
and together they learned
laughter
fury
compromise
peace
how to smile.

And time ticked throughout the
universe
ticked swirled ticked tumbled
lulled quieted
ticked
and they learned
patience
and urgency
and how to love
infinitely.

Until the stardust flickered
whispered goodbye
quieted lulled stilled tick
tock

and the other
learns
pain
infinite black pain
an infinite black hole of pain
sadness emptiness
swirling twisting spiraling bleeding
in her heart
into
an impossibly
tiny
point
of
time-
skewing
void


lasting
eons


until


Out of the infinite black hole
a future universe bursts
swirls twists collides collects
spins collects

disperses

remembers life in its debris
long lost memories of life
nurtures evolves grows swims

crawls out of the water

blinks.






Dear Paula,
When I cannot be there with you, when I cannot take a single ounce of your broken heart away from you, when I cannot hug you while you cry or wash your growing piles of laundry or listen to you tell stories or talk through the pain, know that even from far away I am here for you, shedding tears for you, loving you, caring about you.
Your friend forever,
Lori

Thursday, May 07, 2015

Inspired...

Driving past my favorite church sign yesterday, I was impressed by the depth of the message (if anything church sign-y can have depth).


"Thank God for others."

I like it! It was like saying God is not selfish or jealous of our human relationships, but that he recognizes our innate need for companionship, and the way we need one another to help, to guide, to encourage, to teach, to inspire. We need others in our lives to lighten the load of life, to make us laugh, to be there when we cry, to support us in hard times, and to celebrate the joys. Thank God for others indeed!

Then I drove past it and in the rear view mirror saw the other side.


Oh. They just lost an M. (And inserted a Spanish exclamation point.) Oh well. Thank God for mothers too. Happy Mother's Day.

Wednesday, May 06, 2015

Adventure Time - On A Budget

At the beginning of 2015, I declared this year the Year of Adventure. 2014 set me in a rut that I was (am) determined to get out of. Scott and I decided this year we'd do stuff, big and small, making this a year to remember.

It's jarring to think that we are already in the fifth month of 2015. What?! How?! While the big adventures we've discussed have yet to happen (we wanted to go to Washington DC for Spring Break or Texas for Easter, neither of which ended up possible), but we have succeeded in the small.

We'd gotten into a bad habit of whiling away the weekends, vegging out doing nothing but refereeing fights amongst the kids, and generally feeling pretty bored. We've changed that this year. We've gotten motivated. We've started looking for excitement anywhere we can find it - and rightly calling it "adventure", for that's what we're making of it.

One weekend we took the kids to a Scottish Festival. (Free entry)


One weekend we went to Little Rock for the Indian Festival. (Free entry)


We took them to a Superhero Horse Fundraiser. ($20 a family, all profits going to charity)


We went to an Arts and Maker Faire. ($10 each for all of us over 6 yrs, which I didn't realize, but worth every penny the oldest three of us had to pay!)


We went to the Museum of Discovery on Dollar Day. ($5 in all)


This weekend we're going to the Clinton Presidential Library to see the Dinosaurs Around the World exhibit ($20 for the family, it better be good!), and next weekend we're heading up to Fayetteville for the high school graduation party of an old wee pal (not gonna be cheap after petrol, hotel, and food, but it'll be like a mini family vacation, and we'll cut costs wherever we can).

We don't have tons of money, I can tell you that for nothing! But we've changed our priorities slightly. Instead of going out to eat when I can't be bothered to cook, we are trying to save those pennies for entry fees, searching for the free events and discount days. Food at these kind of events, while looking and smelling amazing, are usually ridiculously expensive, so we tend to bring water bottles and snacks, and perhaps a picnic lunch, to save spending $10 on a hamburger. We sometimes splurge on tiny treats, like homemade shortbread at the Scottish festival or handcrafted pottery fridge magnets at the Arts Faire, but mostly we just enjoy looking at all the things on offer and whispering to each other afterwards about how we'd never pay that for that. (Helps curb the "I WANT" urges.)

All of these little mini-adventures have been so much fun for everyone and really great for our family. And really great for improving my outlook. While the big things (like family vacations and some things I can't mention here until they actually happen!) keep not happening for various reasons (can't get dates off work or cars needs total of six new tires), the little things have made 2015 pretty adventurous. And with school holidays coming quickly upon us, I am sure there will be many more adventures to come! And hopefully without too hefty a price tag. (What is it about kids being off school and breaking the budget? All the food they consume while lounging around the house, all the activities we feel obligated to put on for them or send them to.... summer is expensive!)

Sometimes our adventures have been as small as a fire in the back yard...


... But I'm learning now that adventures don't have to be wild, exhilarating, and fantastical (or expensive) - adventures are made out of having an adventurous spirit!

Thursday, April 30, 2015

Challenge Accepted! April Books

If I was a little let down by only reading four books in March, I'm feeling really let down by my April accomplishments. Only three.

HOWEVER. One of those books was pretty long and dense, so that has to be factored in.

Angle of Repose by Wallace Stegner (A book that made you cry)
I recently wrote about this book's personal effect on me, but for the purposes of this post, I'll just give a quick synopsis. 

Historian Lyman Ward, who suffers from a debilitating skeletal disease, embarks upon a project of writing the life story of his grandparents, Susan Burling Ward and Oliver Ward, gathering the majority of his information from the extensive correspondence between Susan and her life long friend Augusta.  Susan, an Eastern genteel, and Oliver, an aspiring engineer with no college degree, marry after a long and unconvincing "courtship" that existed almost entirely in letters, and she joins him in their first homestead in the West in the late 1800s. As far as Susan sees it, this is a temporary settlement while he gets the experience he needs to return to New York and become an engineer in the East.  He, however, thought she understood that an engineer's life was in the West and always would be.  And thus begins a life of disappointments, successes, stalled work, poverty, hope, love, regret, friendships, loneliness, disaster, and exile.  Amidst the stories of Susan and Oliver's erratic and restless lives, Lyman must also wrestle with the reality of his own life - a failed marriage, a failing body, a meddlesome son, a ridiculous secretary, and a faithful but aging friend/nurse.  He is living alone in the very house his grandparents lived in for the last half of their lives, among the same roses his grandfather cultivated, the same roses whose scents hung in the air as heavy as the memories they carried.

This, in my opinion, is an absolutely fantastic book, one of the best I've ever read.  It is dense and rich, and so very cognizant of the human condition.  Stegner goes right down into the thick of what it is to be married and the cracks and craigs that can develop so very easily.  Even though the majority of the book is based over a century ago, Stegner also manages to draw the reader right into the Victorian era, forgetting our modern philosophies and beliefs about equality and the Women's Lib, and relive life the way it was then with no distaste for their archaic values.  In fact, we become almost nostalgic for it.  

I have read this book three times now, and every single time it has reduced me to tears.  And not just stingy-eye-tears, but full-on sobs, fat plops smearing the ink of the pages, bright red puffy eyes, dripping nose, the works.  I re-read it this time because our book club chose it as our next book. (We all submitted titles and chose one at random. Can you guess who submitted this one?!)  I truly hope the rest of Book Club will love it as much as I do, and I eagerly await our discussion!

Orange Is the New Black by Piper Kerman (A book based on or turned into a TV show)
If you haven't already watched Seasons 1 and 2 on Netflix, perhaps consider reading the book first. I wish I had.

The book is a memoir, the true story of Piper Kerman's year in a women's prison. It is heartfelt and compassionate and nothing at all like the TV series.  It is not over dramatic, we do not witness any fights or lesbian sex scenes, and the Piper "character" is not as troubled as they portray her on the show. Also - SPOILER ALERT -Larry is faithful.The book re-humanizes the women behind bars that we so often dehumanize because of their crimes.  It reminds us that punishment without rehabilitation is only cruelty.  It highlights the serious ineptitude of America's prison systems, as well as the disservice it does to society, when it perpetuates the cycle of violence and incarceration.  Until America realizes that pure punishment alone does not solve the problem, we will always have people cycling in and out of prison, unable to cope with life "on the outs".  Prisons must do a better job of rehabilitation if we want to see these people living productive and non-criminal lives. (And it should never have become a profitable "business".)

The TV show is great entertainment, but other than some of the characters and scenarios, it is not the same as the book.  Which is better? It depends on what you call "better".  If you ask me, the Netflix Original Series is more exciting, but the book touches your heart and engages your empathy.


The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky (A banned book)
Again, another book with a movie-based-on-a-book.  I saw the movie first and read the book second. I gotta stop doing that.

I chose this as my "banned book". I chose it over several other more classical and well-known banned books, because I love the movie so much.  I figured I knew why the book would be banned in many high schools across the state - it deals with drugs and sexuality - but I wanted to know just how "bad" those concepts are in the book.

Spoiler - not bad at all. Aside - don't ban books because they deal with actual human dilemmas, particularly teen ones.

Charlie, a lonely high school freshman, whose close friend shot himself the year before, meets two seniors, Sam and Patrick, who take him in and show him genuine friendship, in spite of his quirks (and tendency to cry a lot).   It quietly and honestly tells Charlie's story through letters he writes to a "friend".  (Charlie needs an anonymous and understanding person to talk to. We know nothing about this friend, and this friend actually does not know Charlie.)  He talks about his first time getting high, his first kiss, his first girlfriend, his love of books and desire to become a writer, and true love and friendship.  The book is warm, but has an undercurrent of something unsettling. We get the sense of foreboding but cannot be sure why.

I liked this book, but again, it's a little different from the movie.  Obviously.  Movies must dramatize everything to keep the viewer constantly holding his breath.  The book does not feel the need to do so. It plays everything down, with Charlie telling anecdotes to his "friend" with a mixture of youthful naivety and insight beyond his years.  It made me glad I'm not sixteen anymore. It made me frown and sigh at the thought of anyone ever having to be sixteen.

It should not be a banned book. (Should any book?)  Kids need to be able to read this stuff. Kids, more than anyone, need to know they are not alone in their struggles.  This will be required reading for my little ones when they start to become a lot less little.


To see what else I have read this year:
March
February
January

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Plant a Tree For Earth Day

Today, we planted a tree in my mom's front yard.


We wanted to give them a Dogwood, but we couldn't find one, so we went with a Redbud.


We all did our part (except for Scott, who was still at work). But the kids did the majority of the digging.


Some of us even did our tree-planting in style. I'm talking skinny jeans and heels.


We would have loved to have planted a tree in our own yard, but alas, we rent, and we didn't want to worry with all the fuss of getting permission from the landlord to plant a tree.


At least now my mom and stepdad have a little memento of us, for when we eventually move on to "greener pastures".


Saying that, I'd love to make tree-planting our little family's Earth Day tradition. Give back to the earth a little of what we take so much of.


Teach the children a little about sustainability.


And get in touch a little more with nature.


Happy Earth Day!



Angle of Repose by Wallace Stegner

Do you have a book that digs so deeply into your heart that it pains you to read, yet you can't stop reading it because it reveals truths to you that even you did not realize - or want to accept - were inside you?

That book is Wallace Stegner's Angle of Repose for me.

I have just finished it. It's actually the third time I've read it. The first time was over ten years ago for an online book club while I was engaged to Scott. I did not know what marriage would be like, and I didn't know my soon-to-be husband the way I do now, but even then, every word of the novel was a warning: Don't underestimate him. Don't try to change him. Don't betray his trust. A quiet man is not an unfeeling man; don't confuse the two.

The second time I read it was while pregnant with Baby Jaguar. Once again, I was struck by how similar my husband is to the novel's Oliver. Once again, I heeded (and was thankful) for the warnings: Do not stand in his way for selfish reasons. Do not wish him to be anything other than what he is. Appreciate his strengths, though they are different to yours, and forgive him his weaknesses (for you have your own). Defend him against criticism. Do not hold him at arm's length.

This time I found myself thanking the book wholeheartedly for all those warnings. For this time I saw in myself how like Susan I am. As little as I'd like to admit it, I too am proud, a little snobbish, a little over-concerned with appearances. Every time I have read this book, I have noted how too close the story cuts, how in an alternate universe, this could have been us. Without those warnings, with less magnanimity, with less careful effort, we could have been doomed to the same fate - the same discontent woman, the same stubborn man, with such promise but too many mistakes.


I have wanted to review this novel a hundred times, but I am unable. It is too close, it is too revealing. I recognize in it how lucky we have been - no, not lucky. Careful. Hardworking. Fair. Open and honest. Aware. We have not, we shall not end up the same as Susan and Oliver Ward, living the rest of their lives at the angle of repose, after a downward tumbling life eventually settled near the bottom of the ravine. We shall have our ups and downs. We shall have our adventures. We will not settle for living happily-unhappily ever after.

All I can say in review is a quick synopsis:

Historian Lyman Ward, the grandson of Oliver and Susan Ward, much to ignore the effects of his debilitating skeletal disease, takes to his grandmother's letters to her dearest lifelong friend Augusta to write about her and her husband's life developing the West in the late 1800s. She, an Eastern genteel and he, an aspiring engineer with no college degree, marry after a long and unconvincing "courtship" that existed only in correspondence, and she joins him in their first homestead in the West. In her mind, it is a temporary settlement while he gets the experience he needs to return to New York and became an Eastern engineer. He understands that an engineer's life is in the West and will always be. And thus they begin a life of disappointment, successes, stalled work, poverty, hope, love, regret, friendships, loneliness, disaster, and exile. Amidst the stories of Susan and Oliver's erratic and restless lives, Lyman must also wrestle with the reality of his own life - a failed marriage, a failing body, a meddlesome son, a ridiculous secretary, and a faithful but aging friend/nurse. He is living in the very house his grandparents lived in for the last half of their lives, among the same roses his grandfather cultivated, the same roses whose scents hung in the air as heavy as the memories they carried from a life lived happily-unhappily ever after.


It's a long book. It's a hard book; not word-wise, but emotionally, at least for me. It could have been me. It could have been Scott. I am imperfect, I am not the best wife for a quiet, intelligent, deep man... or am I? Was Susan? Maybe she was, and maybe I am. It is possibly our choices in life that make us perfect or not perfect for someone, not simply our temperaments. All I know is that I have read this book three times, and all three times I have found myself not merely tearing up, but quite literally sobbing throughout and especially at the end, not only over the plot line but the truths it has revealed. It is without question my favorite book. It is heartbreaking. It is real, it is honest.

I could never write a full review of it, for to do that would be to write a full review of the worst versions of my possible self, the versions that could have been me, that in an alternate universe might actually be me. I can never reveal those flaws of which I am too acutely aware my capacity of exposing. I'd rather keep those revelations securely bound between the covers of this remarkable book.

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Ways In Which Arkansas Wants To KILL You

With a severe weather warning season firmly upon us and after shooing a red wasp out of my car yesterday AND a suspiciously bulbous black spider with a violin on its back (red or white, which one is in under contract with Satan?), I decided it's time to make a list of some of the reasons I need to leave Arkansas.

Because Arkansas wants to KILL you.


1. Black Widows. It's like, it's not enough to just be a spider; it has to be an ugly, deadly one.
2. Brown Recluses. One that will destroy your flesh. Then kill you.
3. Red Wasps. So they may not kill you, but they will build their nests on your front porch and then attack you and sting the crap out of you. If they could talk, they'd have little collective demon voices.
4. Scorpions. So far, haven't seen one. But they are out there, and they are mean little bastards.
5. Ticks. Lyme Disease. Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. And they will leave their heads inside your flesh if you aren't careful. WTF?
6. Rattlesnakes. Deadly AND have that creepy Western movie prelude playing in the background. Cue tumbleweed. Then death.
7. Copperheads. Seriously, these guys THRIVE in my neighborhood. Domesticity doesn't phase them one bit.
8. Baby copperheads. These little buggers are even meaner than their mamas.  Like little Children of the Corn, but snakes.
9. High heat indexes. If all of the above doesn't kill you first, the 110°F in the middle of July and August ought to finish you off.  And if even that can't take you down...
10. Tornadoes. No, seriously. Not being funny. I am terrified.

I'm actually not sure how I survived my first twenty-two years of my life living in this state and now the last almost two. Living in Arkansas is like playing a never-ending game of Russian roulette, and surely my luck is going to run out soon.