Author: gr4c5

I write. I read. I cook. I run. That's me, in a nutshell.

Port

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I dreamed again of sailing away. I don’t know why cruise ships are my reoccurring objects of choice. Where am I going? Why can’t I stay?

Last night we argued about going, staying, returning. We weren’t really fighting, but rather frustrated. We weren’t angry just refusing to be audibly agreeable. There was no comfort in compromise because we wouldn’t come to it. Not without confrontation. Certainly not out loud. I know I say one thing and mean another weeks later. I know what I say is true for the moment the words are uttered. I know I frustrate you as much I frustrate me & myself. I know it sounds like lying when I change my mind to suit my heart.
When I said I didn’t want you there and that I would be happier without you that wasn’t a lie. Not at that moment it wasn’t. At that moment miserable me didn’t want to deal with unreasonable you. My understanding wasn’t adequate when arguing with you. Facing facts is hard when fixated on fantasy.

Today is a different story. I want us to sail away. Together. Let’s take that journey the best way we know how. Our plans are scattered, seat-of-our-pants as they say. Who cares? Coming. Going. Staying. Let’s play it by heart and see what happens.

Boy’s Life

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McCammon, Robert. Boy’s Life. New York: Pocket Star, 1991.

I would almost venture to say there is almost too much adventure in this book. More stuff happens to CoreyMackenson in his life, in his boyhood life, than I can begin to explain. There is magic and imagination on nearly every page. Corey is an all-around good kid but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his share of trouble at school, confrontations with bullies and disagreements with his parents. All normal stuff until you add the mystery of a dead man, the mob, a dog that won’t die, a eye-blinking bike, a run-in with Nazis, kidnapping, a prostitute, the klu klux klan, several monsters and more mayhem. 

I love a book that has almost every page flagged for a good line; a line I wish I had written, or one that made me think. Here are a few of my favorite lines from early in Boy’s Life:
“You realize that every person in the world is a compromise of nature” (p 9).
“Maybe crazy is what they call anyone who’s got magic inside them after they’re no longer a child” (p 10).
“Oh, I knew what the word meant and all, but its casual use from a pretty mouth shocked the fool out of me” (p 20).
“There are horrors that burst the bounds of screen and page, and come home all twisted up and grinning behind the face of somebody you love” (p 50).
“I had never seen a black Jesus before, and this sight both knocked me for a loop and opened up a space in my mind that I’d never known needed light” (p 120).

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust and the section on Alabama in “Southern Fried Fiction” (p 207).

From the Clutter

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Okay. Here are the rants from the very top of the clutter. I miss my friends. RT~ when, when, when will we have time? For three Tuesdays in a row I have been ear to phone, playing I-Know-Best (and that’s why they pay me the big bucks, I guess). I long to be somewhere else on Tuesday nights…reaching for sanity sanctuary, maybe?
I hate Google right now and I don’t care who knows it. It shouldn’t take a full minute to log into my account. It shouldn’t take another 30 seconds for the reply button to work. It frustrates me that I can’t pop a quick reply back to my sister. My inbox is piling up – message upon message remains unread. Admit it, google! You have finally failed at something. Your chat thing was a waste of time and now this AIM thing you’re trying…I think it’s the root of all my in-box problems. Fix it before I move to MSN…seriously.
Then there is work. Did you ever have one of those days…those days when you are so freakin’ busy that you don’t know what to do next? You sit at your desk, papers piled to the ceiling, feeling like a failure because you’re paralyzed to the depths of indecision. You stare at the calendar wondering where yesterday went. Were you even a witness to a week ago Wednesday? Where did this Monday go? I’d like to be able to multitask in my car, while taking a shower, during dinner, in my sleep. I could get a lot more done if I stopped trying to prioritize it all and just did it. 

sigh.
 

Polar Express

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polar expressVan Allsburg, Chris. The Polar Express. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1985.

Is it any wonder that The Polar Express won a Caldecott award? Is it any wonder that Hollywood made a movie out of it? This is a gorgeous book for adults as well as children. It’s fantastic to read aloud to a child because not only is are the pictures spectacular, but the storyline is wonderful, too. See, I can’t say enough nice things about this book!
It’s simply the story of a boy who takes a trip by train to visit Santa at the North Pole. He is given a special gift that proves his belief in all things Christmas – the elves, the gifts, the reindeer, the North Pole, and of course, Santa Claus himself. This book was such a treat that I now want to go see the movie!

“We climbed mountains so high it seemed as if we would scrape the moon” (p 9) and “Though I’ve grown old, the bell still rings for me as it does for all who truly believe” (p 29) are my favorite lines.

BookLust Twist: From Book Lust  and the chapter on “Christmas Books for the Whole Family to Read” (p 55).

This Old Post 12/8/95

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I want a love I can’t get from just anyone. To be hugged for no reason is a rare thing. It’s the little gestures. I could care less about gifts. I’m tired of it all and when I’m tired I tend to look at the should haves, could haves, would haves, if onlys. Oh Romeo, take me dancing. Keep me up for all hours of the night; make me feel I am worth all the late night hours. Have fun. Life as we knew it ended today. I want a drink. I want to make love to someone who whispers my name. I ‘d love a love so deep it forsakes everything else.

It is hard to believe 12 years have passed since I felt this, this…whatever. I don’t even know what to call it. The man I thought I knew admitted he was torn between love and hate of me. Yet, I stayed committed to being unwanted for no reason whatsoever. Even after moving on I was determined to play the fool.
What a difference a decade makes! I could kick my own self’s ass for being so silly. I could laugh in the face of such stupidity. Yet, those things were put in my way for a reason. Lessons to be learned and not lightly. Love is not to be awarded like a trophy just because you are gorgeous on the outside. Love is to be hard earned because you are beautiful on the inside. Instead of Work It Girl it’s Work For It. The relationships in my life didn’t love me like they should have because I didn’t. Respect didn’t walk in my door and own my pride. It took those silly, stupid moments for it all to make sense.

These days I have a love that forsakes all others. It dances me til dawn. I have it not because I deserve it, but because I earn it. Everyday.

Appointment in Samarra

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appointment in samarraO’Hara John. Appointment in Samarra. New York: Vintage, 2003.

In honor of Pennsylvania becoming a state in the month of December Appointment in Samarra was my first novel pick. I was excited to see the introduction was written by John Updike. He is another author I have enjoyed over the years. Set in the 1930’s with a keen eye on society, O’Hara tells the story of Caroline & Julian English and their how their elite status is washed away with alcohol and attitude. In an instance the English couple go from being the toast of the town to the talk of trash.

“I love you more than a tongue can tell” (p 63).
“…their position in Gibbsville was just that certain and insecure…” (p 83).
“…she was too conscious of looking like the wrath of God to enjoy any of it” (p 121).
“The worst of that drive was that the sun glare on the snow made you smile before you were ready” (p 200).

As an aside: I don’t remember where I was when I learned that the Lenape Indians believed the turtle was the center of the universe. To this day, it remains the only thing I know about this particular tribe. It was interesting to see O’Hara mention the tribe in his historical ancestry of the English family.

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust in the chapter “Big Ten Country: The Literary Midwest (Pennsylvania)” (p 30). 

Twelve Days of Christmas

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12 days of ChristmasKnight, Hilary. Hilary Knight’s Twelve Days of Christmas. New York: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers, 2001.

On the surface this book looks like your average kids’ book. Cute pictures and a storyline you can sing. We all know “The Twelve Days of Christmas” – it’s that silly song that involves milking cows, egg producing hens, and ladies dancing among other things. What makes this book special is what is going on behind the scenes. There’s a whole other story unfolding in the illustrations.  On the surface Bedelia the bear is trying to tell you what her true love gave to her during the twelve days of Christmas (Dec 25- Jan 6) and then there is Benjamin, for those twelve days straight, bringing her the goods. In the background there’s Reginald the raccoon. He lives in Bedelia’s basement for some strange reason, and if you are observant, you learn that he pines for the perfect girl. Throughout Benjamin’s trips to Bedelia’s door with various (odd) gifts, you see Reginald struggling with something of his own.
In the end (and I won’t ruin it for you), you will want to go back and look at all the illustrations just a little closer. Everything has a meaning – beyond Benjamin looking to woo Bedelia with twelve lords a~leaping (my favorite). Seriously. Check out the lords. They’ll crack you up.

BookLust Twist: From Book Lust and the chapter “Christmas Books for the Whole Family to Read” (p 55).

Grace & Faith

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The past three months of my life have been more stressful than Dr. Death’s worst homework assignment and planning a wedding combined. While one hand looked for answers the other had to do the deeds, regardless of knowledge. Working my fingers to the bone, working slight of hand.
Then came the past. Waltzing in like it owned my future. It was hard to stare down the demons, both good and bad. It was hard to peel back the layers of my acceptance and feel the hurt for the someones else. Those someones mean more to me than the blood streaming through my veins. How easy is it to want to avoid the inevitable hurt? Although I want to stop I know that I can’t. We are at a place that cannot be denied or ignored any longer. We must keep the momentum of grace.
To top it all off, I want to go back to school. I know that right now my energy is tapped, my ambition low, my funds all but nonexistent, but I want to be Dr. Mucky-Muck. My horizon is tainted with shouldn’t, wouldn’t and especially, couldn’t. I have to keep faith.
But, for now I need to get back to good. Christmas is fast approaching and the holiday spirit moves me. I got my first card two days ago and that has motivated me to mail my own – starting with the west side of my life.
So, to Grace & Faith. Stay by my side. Don’t let me fly from the roof in an effort to be with my angels. Keep me grounded. Keep me safe. Life has been harder than this, more sorry than this. It’s time to reach for a better place to be.

Your Secret

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You said something striking today. You said “I’m scared how easy it is to hide my mental illness from my family” and that statement struck a chord with me. It was a simple statement yet it spoke volumes. You were more afraid of how little no one noticed you and less frightened of what ailed you. Why is that? I admired it just the same…although I don’t know why. It’s as if being unstable wasn’t that big of a deal to you, or maybe, that you were dealing with the no big deal just fine. What was truly scary was how no one noticed anything and everything else. You said this and somehow it comforted me. People can get away with things without even trying. Look at Dennis Rader and how far off everyone’s radar he really was. Got away with murder. Look at the double-life porn star. It can happen to the best of us without even trying. We don’t try, yet we do.
You said it scared you how easy it was to hide something. Maybe that’s because it’s more normal than you think.

Virgin Party

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This was my first time hosting something trivial, something small. The parties I have thrown in my life can be counted on one hand: a shower for my sister, my own wedding, my post race party and mom’s surprise party this past summer. Last night was different. It was the first time I had an intimate tv party for no reason at all.
Just the right amount of people came (the perfect people for such a party, I must add). It was fun to snack and laugh, saving the serious conversations for later. Just the right amount of food (although the meatballs with Parmesan crisps ran out). I loved making the pecan pie (my first) and Freezer Pie, but the sun-dried tomato/feta cheese ball was my favorite. Just the right amount of Merlot with beautiful but mismatched long stemmed wine glasses. Just the right amount of room in the cedar/pine scented living room (although we always have room for just one more). Just the right amount of coziness with the candles, candy and twinkle lights on the tree decorated with holiday cheer.
My mother-in-law brought her Brenda bag and I, my YouLookGuilty tee shirt (pic coming soon). We all hushed for the show but cheered for the Patriots (thank someone they won). As the night winded down, everyone was ushered out with a hug, chocolate covered pretzels and Mama’s Southern Pecan Pie recipe. Indy hid upstairs until every last guest was gone.
Finally, it was just kisa and I in the quiet. We cleaned the kitchen in tandem, taking turns opening and closing the dishwasher door; wiping down counters and hand-washing wine glasses.
As we turned off the Christmas lights, blew out the candles and turned down the heat I thought of Brenda when she said, “I don’t like it when I’m ordered to be festive.” Me neither so I’m glad last night was so much fun…naturally.

Father Christmas Letters

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Father ChristmasTolkien, J.R.R. The Father Christmas Letters. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1976.

Pure magic. I loved every minute of this book! I have always loved J.R.R. Tolkien’s imagination. From The Hobbit to The Two Towers I have always enjoyed submerging myself in his work. This book is something special. I think Nancy Pearl sums it up best in Book Lust “Tolkien wrote these letters for his children, beginning in 1920 and ending in 1939. Whimsical pictures complement the descriptions of Father Christmas’s life at the North Pole” (p 56). But, what Pearl doesn’t tell you is that Tolkien is posing as Father Christmas, and each letter (one for each year) is a continuation a story (involving a polar bear, elves and ) from the year before. The illustrations that accompany the letters are as captivating as the storyline. I can truly imagine being a child, caught up in waiting for the letter from Father Christmas.
The sobering thing about this book is that it ends the same year that World War II starts. Tolkien even makes mention of it on the last page “Half the world seems in the wrong place.” It seems like everyone needed to put aside childhood in 1939.

BookLust Twist: From Book Lust  in the chapter “Christmas Books For The Whole Family To Read” (p 55).

Knitting a Memory

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Here’s what I remember. She would be standing behind the counter, knitting with four needles. Knitting in a round. Wristers for the men, mittens for the women. Knitting, always knitting. The yarn was never one solid color. She would ring up grocery orders, peer at prices through grandma glasses. Tally balances in a fine, spidery hand. Smoking and gossiping with the fishermen. Back when smoking was something to do. Her raspy laugh echoing through the aisles. A fixture among the groceries. She was just a little thing but such a huge presence!
Christmas mittens. Those mittens knitted all year long would show up under the tree in December. Always with a dollar hidden in one. It was as much a tradition as Seacoast Mission. mom’s oranges and Jingle Bells before Santa. For some reason I always got shades of green. How she knew my growing hands from year to year I’ll never know. I’ve kept them still.
Sitting on top of wharf hill, watching the day trippers disembark from the boat. Always full of witty comments and guess who arrived today? She knew everyone’s story, everyone’s comings and goings. She saw it all and knew us all from the hill.
She died last month. I just got word today. Common sense says it was time. Nature has it’s unstoppable course. She was ancient when I was a kid. Nevertheless, I thought she would live forever. Whenever her mittens warm my hands her memory will always warm my heart. Thanks, Reet.

Bill Bryson’s African Diary

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African DiaryBryson, Bill. Bill Bryson’s African Diary. New York, Broadway Books, 2002.

I added this to the December list when I read a review describing it as “short.” It’s much shorter than I thought – only 49 pages of “diary” and a few more pages of statistical information. So short that I was able to read it over a lunch break. I’m glad it was a quick read because I couldn’t put it down. I’m a sucker for charitable tactics, especially unique ones, and this book definitely qualifies. CARE International (a non-profit organization dedicated to fighting global poverty) funded Bill Bryson’s trip to Nairobi, Africa with the request that he write about his eight day adventure. Bryson is known for his travel literature, his humor, and his expressive way of describing life around him. He would certainly be able to describe the poverty, the landscape, and best of all, the people of Africa. Many reviewers called this book a charity puff-piece, a lengthy advertisement for the work of CARE, and were bitter about the $12 price tag. What they missed out on was the stunning photography, the wry humor and the painless way to do good (all royalties and profit from the sale of the book went to CARE International).
Speaking of humor, here are a few of my favorite lines: “…tireless commitment to mediocrity” (p 2), “you had to be really unlucky to be shot and stabbed” (p 4), “Kenyan Railways has something of a tradition of killing its passengers” (p 21) and, “Watamu was tranquil to the point of being comatose” (25). There are other funny moments: “flying toilets,” and flying for real, to name two.

For more information on CARE, International go here.

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust and the chapter “Bill Bryson: Too Good to Miss” (p 36). This being my first introduction to Bryson I am looking forward to more.

December Is

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                                                                                                                                                                                                             Christmas
                                                                

Here are the parameters for the December reading list (and what is at the top of the reading list):
December is…

  • Bill Bryson’s birth month (Bill Bryson’s African Diary)
  • Connie Willis’ birth month (Bellweather)
  • Rex Stout’s birth month (Fer-de-Lance)
  • Mark Kurlansky’s birth month (Basque History of the World)
  • when Iowa became a state (Age of Grief)
  • when Pennsylvania became a state (Appointment in Samarra)
  • when New Jersey became a state (Body is Water)
  • when Mississippi became a state (24 Hours)
  • when Alabama became a state (Boy’s Life)
  • the month the Cold war ended (Last Supper)
  • the month of Christmas (Father Christmas Letters)
    By the way, I’ll read only Christmas stories during the week of Christmas 12/24 – 12/30…and a Christmas story in between the other reads.

Anniversary Woops

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BooksThis anniversary made my realized I missed another anniversary. Not the one when I walked down the aisle, knees banging together out of trepidation. No, I’m talking about a different one – a more MeMyselfMoi one. I’m talking about the one that has made me open books. Open and read lots and lots of books. On November 10th, 2006 I made a vow to read everything indexed in Book Lust and More Book Lust. As of that date I had read 95 books. 95 books read, reviewed and relished. That equals eight books a month or two books a week (on average). It’s hard to believe I am approaching my 100th book (Appointment in Samarra by John O’Hara). I have to say it feels good to get back to being a book worm.