That Young

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When I was little I thought the world revolved around an ocean. I thought I was brave if I went beyond the rocks and out to what I considered the sea. Little did I know the rocks were more to be afraid of. Little did I know of their drowning potential beneath the waves. This is what I thought of danger.

When I was little I thought hugs and kisses were hidden in chocolate. Frosting disguised as an i’ll always love you treat. I thought if I ate real slow and savored every bite that meant I loved you back. And we could make it last forever. Little did I know about the human heart. Little did I know about how you felt. This is what I thought of love.

When I was little I thought I knew. I would row my boat upon the waves, sunburnt shoulders, calloused fingertips, sand and salt in my hair. Unafraid of the rocks. I would eat my chocolate slow. Sticky fingers, candy lips, chocolate chin. Unaware of your heart.

To be that young.

Loss for Words

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“Scary thought. Old habits die hard. Old habits don’t die easily. Whatever. You get the picture. I don’t change. No matter how much I want to.”

I wrote that sitting in a Saturn dealership after getting someone fired over three years ago. Good things happen for a reason. If —–never got fired I never would have met —–…Weird to think that life works in that way, especially when you don’t know it will actually be that way. Or something like that. It’s not that I wanted —- to get fired. It’s just when you end up doing someone else’s job all the time you start to think maybe they should pay you for it, or at least stop pretending “they” are doing all the work. Whatever. It came down to just that. I stopped covering for someone and suddenly the cover was blown. It’s hard to do the work when you don’t know how in the first place. You can only be the great pretender for so long. Someone’s gonna figure you out sooner or later.

What I discovered on that cold day nearly three years ago is that I’m a pushover. I care too much. Like I said then I’ll say today: some things never change.
 

Baby Sister for Frances

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BabySisterForFrancisHoban, Russell. A Baby Sister for Frances. New York: Scholastic, 1992.

Who doesn’t remember this one from their childhood? Originally published in 1964 this was a standard in my young life. I don’t remember if my parents bought this for me in preparation for my sister’s arrival, but I was certainly old enough to be skeptical (and more than a little jealous) of the little bundle everyone kept cooing over. This book would have made sense for that reason alone.

LibraryThing Review:
This is childrens’ book classic. Told from the point of view of a badger, Frances is jealous of her new baby sister, Gloria. Gloria seems to be distracting enough that mama badger is forgetting to do the laundry and shop for groceries. As a result, Frances feels neglected and needs to be noticed. Accepting a new sibling can be hard on anyone, even badgers.

There must be hundreds of self help books out there, all tackling the tricky question of sibling rivalry and what to do when a new baby comes along. All parents need to do is read A Baby Sister for Frances and they’ll be reminded of how the older child often feels diminished, neglected. Hoban hit that one on the head. How Frances “runs away” is hilarious. I know I did the same thing – only I think I didn’t run away long enough to be missed!
My favorite part is when Frances “calls” her parents from under the dining room table then comes “home” singing a rhyme. Very cute.

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust and the chapter “Russell Hoban: Too Good To Miss” (p 113).

Don’t Get Out Much

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I’m a snob when it comes to some sites and my active “participation” (for lack of a better word). Take Flickr for example. I don’t peruse any other pictures except my friends. Aside from that I don’t search for much except pics of my hometown. Looking at someone else’s holiday doesn’t interest me unless I recognize the place. I rarely comment on other people’s snapshots and I don’t belong to many “groups” or place myself on any maps.

Then, there’s that Library Thingy. People have tagged my library as “interesting” and have invited me to become a member of different groups. I’m flattered by the interest and I always accept the group invitations. Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I shouldn’t be flattered because I don’t seek out interesting libraries of others. Maybe I shouldn’t accept invitations to join groups because I never take part in their discussions. I’m like the silent partner. I’m there but I never contribute. Truthfully, I’m waiting for the moderators to kick me out for lack of conversation…or something.

Same goes for myspace. I got a space. Got my picture and my profile and everything…even got “my” song. Except the whole thing’s private. No one can see it unless you’re already a “friend.” I don’t seek out comments, messages, profiles, pictures of people I don’t know, or think I might know, or even the ones I think I want to get to know. I occasionally return messages to my “friends” and pray they didn’t take it personally if I didn’t leave them a glittering “love ya lots” comment on Valentine’s Day. I’m just not that into it.

With all of these sites here’s what happens: I log in, I do my thing and I log back out again.
But. But, I have to tell you about this”revelation” I had. It happened here, on WordPressSpace and it involves my sudden, yet rewarding, participation. To be honest, I think I have a total of four friends who actively blog on this site. No, I take that back. Make that two friends because two left. Wait. One friend had more than one blog. Does that count? Nevermind…Anyway, my “blog surfer” page was looking a little anemic so I decided, for the first time ever, I would use that little arrow on the top righthand side of my blog. You know, the “go to next random blog” feature. I think I arrowed past four or five “god is great” blogs, three or four “watch my kid grow” blogs, at least eight political blahblahblah blogs, two or three knitting blogs (and here I almost stopped until I realized how hardcore these knit nuts really are), until finally I found writing so amazing I stopped to hang out, even scrolling back through the archives. Inspirational stuff. I have to say it, I love the way this person writes. Absolutely love it. I haven’t had the guts to find out if its a him or her who has so much talent, but you can bet I added this mystery to my blog surfer.
For once I explored outside my page, my involvement with a site. In return I found something rewarding. I should get out more often!

ps~ since writing this I have added another blog onto my list of interesting. I took my own advice and found a funny stranger.

Translator

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IMG_0486Hari, Daoud. The Translator: a Tribesman’s Memoir of Darfur. New York: Random House, 2008. (expected publish date 3/18/08)

This is the third Early Review book I received within a month. It’s the final reason why I put the BookLust challenge on hold for February. All in all, I’ve reviewed a total of nine books for the ER program with a 10th on the way.

Anyway, back to the review book. Written so, so, so beautifully I could have quoted a passage that moved me on every single page. Here is a sampling of powerful and compelling quotes: I could write a blog about each one!
“You have to be stronger than your fears to get anything done in this world” (p 11). This reminds me of my good friend RT.
“It is hard to know where grace comes from” (p 26).
Ahmed’s arm on my shoulder was the gentleness of home” (p 48).
The best way to bury your pain is to help others and lose yourself in that” (p 63).
“You have to find a way to laugh a little bit each day despite everything, or your heart will simply run out of the joy that makes it go” (p 89).
“Poverty generously provides every man with a colorful past” (p 144).
“But what, not counting family, is more important that friendship?” (p 170)

There was humor in the words, as well:
“He looked the way British look when they are upset by some unnecessary inconvenience” (p 7)…and this is while our author hero has a gun to his head!
“to not get killed is a very good thing” (p 9). So now you know he got out of the aforementioned dilemma!
“These are the cruel commanders? It looks as though they eat all their prisoners” (p 148). This being said while overweight Sudanese generals make their way over to where Hari is being held prisoner! The LibraryThing review:

Despite the humor and lyrical language quoted above there is real pain in Hari’s story. This is not a CNN stale report or an 12 line article hidden on the back pages of the New York Times. This is a real, first-hand, in your face account of the atrocities happening in Darfur. Hari, working as a translator for the English speaking press, knows it all too well. After escaping the massacres he does only what a true hero and humanitarian would do, he goes back to Darfur to help journalists spread the word to the rest of the world. How he is able to recount vivid horrors of his community, his people, his family with such grace and compassion is beyond me. Even when he is captured and tortured there is a calm to his recounting. Thanks to Daoud Hari the world is learning…and trying to help.

This was probably the most influential Early Review book I have ever read. It has prompted me to register to run a 5K in Albany, New York this spring. In the words of David Bowie, “do whatever you can, however small.”

Lining It Up

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Now&ZenYoga

(Now & Zen Yoga: photo by Chris Szarek)

Back when I was training for the LLS Alton Bay half I was striving for The Trinity: a good running plan, a good eating plan and a good yoga plan. I’m one of those nutty people that earnestly believes that all these things go together. Especially yoga and running – I’m convinced they go hand in hand. Think about it. Let’s take the run first. Some people say a good run is mind-clearing. Others say it’s a good chance to relax. Okay – so the “relax” factor might be stretching it in terms of physical, but think about it from the mental for just a sec. I don’t know about you, but when I run, there is a cadence to my breathing – one deep count in, two long counts out. Slow & steady with the mantra “must beat cancer” right behind it. There is a rhythm to my running that parallels my practice in yoga.

Now let’s move onto a good yoga session and how it relates to a good run. Tight hamstrings, tight hips, tight anything is bad, bad, bad for running so… what better way to stretch it all out than with a session of yoga? Go on any running site (take Runner’s World, for example). I bet there is an article or two (at the very least) about good stretching. The Y word might even be thrown around a little. I know for a fact Runner’s World has a video of three yoga moves designed to free the hips, loosen the quads and stretch the calves.

My point of all this preaching is not to get runners to become yogis or vise versa. My point is all about me, myself and moi, actually. I wanted to outwardly vent about lining it up – the yoga, the running & the eating well. Only now I’ve added a fourth component so I’ll have to rename the Trinity as the Fantastic Four: running, yoga, eating well and…Hello Mr. Bowflex – strength training!

His Excellency

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IMG_0571Ellis, Joseph J. His Excellency: George Washington. New York: Afred A Knopf, 2004.

In honor of Presidents’ Day and Washington’s birthday. The LT review: Ellis writes in an easy, flowing style. Almost conversational in tone, Washington’s life comes alive as the pages turn. While not a great deal of evidence of Washington’s personal life has survived, Ellis does a fantastic job filling in the gaps with Washington’s military career and political rise to power. The text is supplemented by a few pages of photographs – mostly portraits Washington had commissioned of himself.

A few of my favorite quotes that make Washington seem less historical and more human. First, a  description of Washington as a 20-something year old man: “He was the epitome of the man’s man: physically strong, mentally enigmatic, emotionally restrained” (p 12).
A commnet on Washington’s unique military order: “…when a ranger…is killed in action, continue his salary for 28 days to pay for his coffin” (p 26).

BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust in the chapter “Founding Fathers” (p 91). Last month I read about Benjamin Franklin from the same chapter. Note to self: Self, don’t read anything from that chapter in March!

Bill, My First (not)

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CancerI sent in my registration today. It’s in the mail which means there is no turning back now…unless I want to commit a federal offense. I’m committed alright! Committed to the run. Bill, your challenge will be my first even though it’s your third. No. That’s not entirely true. I’ve run one other 5K in my life. Just as I’ve only run one other race besides that. So, come to think of it, your third annual challenge is technically my third race ever. Go figure.
March 15th. Mark my calendar in red. I signed up. I paid to play.
Here’s the deal: Look Park – twice. 8am. Bill’s Challenge III is sponsored by Cancer Connection. Bill was CC’s first client. He was so involved in Cancer Connection that after his death the 5K challenge was created in his honor. Somehow I missed the 2006 & 2007 challenges but thanks to my father-in-law, hello challenge 2008, here I come.

Here’s my deal. I am not running for personal time. I could care less about beating anyone else (least of all myself). I run to fight cancer, honor someone special, raise awareness for issues like domestic abuse, bring places like Darfur into focus…I could go on. I run to help. Always have, always will. If I’m not moving my feet for something good, it’s not worth doing. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, show me the cause and I’ll find the fight.

Sole Sisters (for Sarah)

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0740757113_01__sx140_sclzzzzzzz_.jpgLin, Jennifer and Susan Warner. Sole Sisters: Stories of Women and Running. Kansas City: Andrews McMeel, 2006.

Here’s what I wrote on LibraryThing:
This is a book of inspirational stories about women running together, women running for recovery, women running for themselves. From personal goals of fighting cancer to group goals of running as a centipede in a marathon, every story comes together with humor and poignancy. There is the woman running to celebrate health and the one who runs to honor loss. Every woman has a reason for running and this book illustrates that point.

Yes, there is definitely going to be a definite split between LT blogs and what I put here. I think I explained that one well enough already.

My favorite lines:
“If I wanted to take orders from a man I would have married one” (p 12).
“She walks with a slight hitch, but she still lifts weights and runs 35 miles a week, just for herself” (p 14). Are you doing the math, people? That would be 5 miles a DAY, or 8.5 miles every other.
“The event was apologetically girly” (p 25). Never apologize for what you are.
“I ran to keep my heart beating” (p 59).
If you take that first step, do everything in your power to also take that last step” (p 92).

I read this because of Sarah. Thanks to her, it was the first gentle nudge towards getting back to running. I needed the nudge. I hope she doesn’t mind that I left it for another friend – to inspire & motivate.

Defiant Hero

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Brockman, Suzanne. The Defiant Hero. New York, Ivy Books, 2001.

I am not a big fan of romance novels. I’m just not into the language they all seem to require. While the plot of The Defiant Hero is riveting, I am more than a little bored by how good looking the three pivotal couples are. The women are all drop dead gorgeous, “impossibly beautiful” with amazing legs, eyes, breasts, you name it… while the men are chiseled, rugged, handsome, can cry on command, etc, etc. These people are so achingly beautiful and yet…there is something keeping every couple apart. They either hate one another, or are suspicious of each other, or something.
Okay, first the plot (The LibraryThing version): Meg is a translator for a European embassy. Her daughter and grandmother get kidnapped by an “Extremist” group. Meg’s love interest is Navy SEAL Lieutenant John. He’s called in by the FBI to help Meg. She specifically asks for him. Alyssa and Sam are the second couple – Alyssa is FBI and Sam is Navy SEAL – both involved with getting Meg because she has become a kidnapper herself. The third couple is Meg’s grandmother and her past. She reminisces about her first husband while being held captive by the “Extremists.” Got all that? In between the macho FBI/kidnapping violence there is a good amount of romance novel sex – the pantie ripping, throbbing kind.
My favorite quotes:
“Unfortunately, though, penises came attached to men. And therein lay one of her biggest problems” (p 9).
“He was gazing at her as if she were a gourmet delicacy the chef had just presented” (p 218).
“He was supposed to spend the night cuffed to a woman he craved more than oxygen” (p 260).

BookLust Twist: From Book Lust and the chapter ” Romance Novels: Our Love is Here to Stay” (p 203). Obviously chosen in honor of Valentine’s Day. Wanna know something else that’s cheesy? I waited until 2/14 to crack it open, too. It was a fast and fun read!

I Found Fire

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I can’t stop thinking about this. I can’t stop the burning because truthfully, I found the fire. Here’s what I needed to do – all I really needed to do: simply talk to someone who runs like me – not perfectly, not professionally, not obsessively. Someone who understands stumbling onto the powerline of running and the electric desire to stay strong. It’s a balancing act to stay on that live wire. Believe you me. What dawned on me was that I had no one to talk to about MY run, MY pain, MY failures. I would try, but deep in my heart I knew the well-meaning ears would only half hear me and the well-meaning hearts would only half understand me. Bottom line – no one got my run. I was another puppet – talktalktalk – and I was probably boring as all hell. No one got me. I mean reeallly got me.
That changed when I got back from Florida. I’m not sure which words struck the match, but I have found the fire. Since getting back I have run five times. Each time no more that 31 minutes. 2.4 miles, 2.45 miles, 2.5 miles, 2.55 miles, & 2.75 miles. Every other day the treadmill calls my name and I answer. I’m running to stupid sh!t like “Cotton Alley” and “2am” but, but. But! I hope that will change when I actually break down and buy myself an ipod. I’ll make running playlists for 2.5 miles, 3 miles, 5 miles…(lawd, I’m a geek). I’m so obsessed about the song that in fact, I now listen to music with an ear on the run. Can I move my feet to this? Is this something that will snag the miles and drag me along? I’m asking for advice, listening to the bmps. Everyone says “Running Down a Dream” is one of the best songs. I still say “Paint it Black” and “Use the Force” are my anthems. For now.

Bridget Jones

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IMG_0570Fielding, Helen. Bridget Jones’ Diary. New York: Penguin, 1996.

When I first learned this chick-lit was on my list I didn’t know whether to groan or grin. But, after pages and pages of stuffy political biographies I knew I’d need a fluffy change. I just didn’t expect it to be so funny! Luckily, my good friend let me borrow it…Here’s the LibraryThing Review:
Bridget Jones is a likable 30-something Londoner. A little on the plump side (so she thinks) and more than a little single (so everyone keeps pointing out), her year long diary takes the reader on a journey through her attempts at weight loss and dating. While her weight gain is more that her ultimate loss and her initial love interest cheats on her, Bridget triumphs with humor and a naivete that is undeniably charming. Obsessive and narcisstist characteristics aside, Bridget could be any woman’s best friend. A delightful (quick) read.

My favorite lines:
“I know what her secret is: she’s discovered power” (p 58).
“Love the friends, better than extended Turkish family in weird headscarves any day” (p 74).
“There’s nothing worse than people telling you you look tired. They might as well have done with it and say you look like five kinds of shit” (p 92).
“By 11:30 Sharon was in full and splendid auto-rant” (p 108).

The only disappointment was a discrepancy with dates. On Wednesday, March 15 Bridget writes “only two weeks to go until birthday” yet, on Tuesday, March 21 she claims it’s her birthday. Two weeks from the 15th is the 29th or at least the 28th. Even if she is counting work weeks it would have been the 25th. Not sure what to think of that. Then there is the time she spends doing something. How is it possible to spend 230 minutes inspecting your face for wrinkles? I’ve done the math. That’s nearly 4 hours – unless London has more minutes to an hour than we do…(ps~ I’m being a snob here. Of course I know Bridget isn’t spending that much time on one activity…)
Another weirdness is that Bridget makes reference to Goldie Hawn and Susan Sarandon a lot. I couldn’t figure out what the reference was all about considering The Banger Sisters didn’t come out until 2002. I’m thinking she meant Thelma and Louise but in that case she didn’t mean Goldie Hawn, but rather Geena Davis. Whatever.

BookLust Twist: From Nancy Pearl’s Book Lust in the chapter called, you guessed it, “Chick-Lit” (p 53).

Reviewer Rotten-ly

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I shouldn’t care what strangers say about me.
I should say that again.
I should not care what strangers say about me!
Yet, I do.
There. I said it.
I care. I definitely do.

Here’s why: I was cruising around my LibraryThing page, noticed a little “thumbs up” icon on certain reviews & got curious. What did that little icon mean and had it ever been applied to a review of mine? Hmmm….This is where I should have remembered the little saying about curiosity killing the cat because while searching my own reviews for that “thumbs up” icon I came across a review that had “tagged” as not a review. It was like a big, fat warning to all the professional reviewers out there, a flashing sign that read: “hey guys, don’t waste your time reading this horseshit. It’s not a real review.” Okay, so no one actually said that…but, that’s what it felt like. Not a review. Defenses up, demeaning name-calling at the ready: jerks…snobs! Who did they think they were? Then, I went back and read the post in question…Whomever tagged it was right. In the traditional sense it’s definitely NOT a review. See for yourself. Yet, the tag still stung. It’s like being called out as a fraud; no Great Oz. I have been tempted to go back and write a real review, something academically sterile and boring to compensate. I feel guilty because here I am, in the Early Review program and I break all the rules for writing a traditional review: You are supposed to review the plot: one, keeping first person voice out of it, and two, you’re not supposed to quote text. Two things I do all the time.
There is a disclaimer on my site that states I don’t review books in the traditional manner, but rather as proof that I took the time to read something for the BookLust Challenge. So, what now? Maybe I should write a traditional review for LibraryThing and leave my quoting and blathering for this site only???? I’m still pondering that….and sort of practicing that. LT gets the straight up this-is-the-book and WP gets ThisIsWhatTheBookMeantToMe. More work? Yes, but it will be worth it to not be so reveiwer rotten.

By the way …the “thumbs up” icon that got me in trouble in the first place? It was an was-this-review-helpful? indicator… Go figure.

American Century

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Evans, Harold. The American Century. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1998.

Weighing in at over 700 pages, American Century is nothing short of gorgeous. Bold black and white photos stand out on nearly every page, while satiric comics adorn the others. I have always loved the Brown Brothers photo of the construction workers on the Woolworth Building and was pleasantly surprised to see its inclusion on page xvii. 

I liked learning that President Cleveland bought the “dirt” on an opponent and upon receiving the envelope burned it, unopened, on the spot. He also suffered from cancer of the mouth and had an entire artificial jaw.

“You feel small in the presence of dead men, and you don’t ask silly questions” (p 332).
Here’s the LibraryThing version of my review:
“Any history buff should have this sitting on his or her shelf (and have a shelf sturdy enough to support this 700+ book). Chock full of intriguing cartoons and mesmerizing photographs, American Century covers every aspect of U.S. history from 1889 to the mid 1990s. Well written with commentaries and first hand accounts, history comes alive. The people, the politics, the power, the pitiful downfalls. The 20th century is laid out and every historical moment of worth is described and detailed.”

BookLust Twist: From Book Lust and the chapter “American History: Fiction” (p 21). I have to explain that this isn’t fiction. Pearl referenced The American Century while talking about Ken Baker’s novels. Ken Baker helped Harold Evans with The American Century.

Wanna See My Boarding Pass?

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Boarding
FYI – like getting plants tangled up in my shoes, I am capable of snagging maps on the inside zipper of my purse. Good thing it wasn’t stuck on the boarding pass. You’ll soon see why (note the boarding pass just above the captured map):

On the way down to Tampa I needed to show my boarded pass once and relinquish it only to get on the plane. Boarding the plane was done in a haphazzard sort of way. I was group A #46 and when they called group A numbers 35-60 we just moo’ed our way on board. No big deal.
Not so on the way home. Tampa is tough. I needed my boarding pass four different times. I should have stapled it to my forehead. Really. I had it out while waiting in the winding, maze-like line. (That line reminded me of the lines at Six Flags only without the tvs and fun.) I’m not a seasoned traveler so I carefully watched the other passengers and followed their leads. Because of them, I knew to take off my shoes, have my picture ID ready and to go where I was told. But, after that I was a bumbling idiot. I didn’t know I needed the id  and boarding pass out for a third time at the security scanners. I had put it back in my purse (which was now going through the xray machine). The security guy wouldn’t let me walk through the gate without the pass, but made no move to retrieve my purse for me. I stood there rooted to the spot, confused as hell, wondering what to do. Passengers moved around me, shooting pitying glances my way. Maybe they were thinking Stupid. I know I was. Finally the security gate guy said, “come on through, BUT I need to see that boarding pass the second it comes out.” I practically sprinted through the gate and anxiously peered down the conveyor belt waiting for my bucket of shoes and purse to emerge. A trickle of sweat meandered down my back. My bare feet embarrassed me. As soon as the bucket started to show itself I reached in for it – I swear – only to facilitate the process and produce that boarding pass faster. “Don’t reach!” someone barked at me. “Okay!” I practically yelped and jumped back. If I was flustered before now I was a basket case. Finally, out came the bucket (on its own), out came my purse and, out came the boarding pass. Frustrated and extremely embarrassed I shoved it at the security guy who barely gave it a single glance then handed it back. What the fukc was that? I could feel my face go even redder. Suddenly, a voice behind me boomed “whose bag is this?” I turned around…of course it was mine. “I just need to look in here…” Mr. Security’s voice trailed off. Now what? I had dirty underwear, stinky socks…what could possibly be threatening (besides the odor)? A candle. A lavender candle. I apologized for it like an idiot and slithered away, hellbent on finding my gate. If there was ever a time for a shot of tequila, this was it. Make that a double shot. Three…four….
Finally, at the gate (the right one this time) I started to relax. I sent a few text messages to let people know I was on my way home and finally let myself breathe normally again. I didn’t even try to find my new boarding number sign (A45). However, when it came time to board the number process was much easier than the last time. Mr. Loudspeaker treated us like idiots, even taking the time to explain what numerical order meant. He wanted to make sure we knew 44 was directly ahead of 45 (who should be directly in front of 46). Duh. He must have gone over it at least a dozen times, telling us to talk to one another to figure out who stood where. Don’t be shy, he says. Riiiight. I was just praying no one recognized me from the security line. Like school kids waiting to go on a field trip we waited in a perfect line. 44 in front of 45 in front of 46. I felt like asking the guy in front of me, “hey. Wanna see my boarding pass?”