Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

I woke up this morning with a bronchitis cough.  Other symptoms, not so much, but the cough–ugh.  That being the case, I’m flaking off to go to bed and saving the book I JUST finished to review next time.  Pleasant dreams!

Today I unpacked a bag of hat/scarf/mitten combos–animal ones that are ridiculously cute–that my mother sent me via my sister, who was here (fleetingly) this weekend.  I also unpacked a bag of stuff for me that my sister sent–yay for a cookie scoop!  And a scarf!  And books!  I sent a bag with my sister with books and other random items (at least one of which was for my mother), and then last night I dropped off another bag for her at my aunt’s (with more random items and another book), since my sister-in-law was in town overnight and could take it back to Idaho with her.

I have, waiting to go to my carpool friend, a bag containing clothes that no longer fit my son and a container of hers, now washed, that she gave me yummy leftovers in.  For my friend Britt I have a gift bag with her middle child’s birthday present in it, plus a book that probably needs a bag of its own.  I know for a fact that she’s got at least one item waiting for me at her house, which is likely in a bag already.

Do you know what that means to me?  It means that I’m part of a family–some born, some chosen–of women who think about each other, who set aside things that we know our mothers/sisters/friends might (or definitely do!) want and take what opportunities we have to get them to each other.  Items representing thoughts of one another seem to be in near-constant motion across roads, across miles, and across mountains, on their way to people who want or need or can use them more than we do or can or will.  I can’t seem to access my best writing skills to convey what I want to say, perhaps because–for once–I’m seeing pictures in my head rather than hearing words, and so I think I’ll stop trying for tonight and just reiterate–we are all bag ladies.  And tonight I find myself loving what that means.

Reading Tara Westover’s Educated:  A Memoir was most definitely painful for me, both as a parent and as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  As a parent, I cringed at the negligence and abuse that suffused Westover’s childhood.  I pitied Tara’s parents–her obviously mentally ill father, her slowly dominated mother–even while I wanted to shake them; I shuddered at her violent older brother.  As a member of what Westover refers to as the Mormon church–a nickname commonly accepted at the time Educated was published–I was deeply saddened by the warped view of it that she experienced so frequently.  (She specifically notes that she knew her parents were different from their fellow church members, but at least one of her friends from BYU had some serious deficiencies in his understanding as well.)  As a human being, well–this was a disturbing book to read.

On the other hand, it was also a riveting one.  Westover has a gift for bringing to life a world utterly foreign to most of us, and a compassion for her family members that requires both love and maturity.  Her journey is an incredible one, and while I wondered about some of the trivialities–how did she pay for her traveling back and forth to Idaho from her different places of study?–I marveled at the breadth of it.  If I’d known fully what I was getting into, I might have balked–literarily experiencing the wrenching heartbreak of someone else’s pain is emotionally exhausting–but I am in no way sorry that I read it.  Educated:  A Memoir is a book worth reading, a story worth telling, and–ultimately–a journey worth following.*

*Many thanks to the Random House Marketing team, who provided me with an ARE and welcomed my honest opinion of it.

That’s what The Secret Diary of Hendrik Groen, 83 1/4 Years Old, was for me–an utter delight.  You know the movies that have entertaining groups of old people–“Return to Me” and “IQ” come to mind, not to mention “Space Cowboys”–that crack you up and steal the show from the romantic leads?  Picture a book about those old people (narrated by one of them) that takes place in a nursing home in Holland.  Add to that a bit of corporate culture vs. the little guy and the formation of an Old-But-Not-Dead club and you get a novel full of humor and yet sharply poignant, one I won’t soon forget.  (And I don’t have to, because I’ve recently discovered that a sequel’s due out this spring!)  I could say more, but it would either be summarizing or gushing, so I’ll leave you with the plain truth–anyone and everyone ought to read and enjoy this one.

I was trying to come up with a dinner plan for tonight when I remembered the recently-thawed corn tortillas languishing in my fridge; my friend Andrea suggested this recipe for “The Best Chicken Enchiladas” from ‘Our Best Bites,’ telling me that they’d be fine lasagna-style (because rolling up corn tortillas was NOT happening today).  She said she really enjoyed them, and so a lazy version of them appeared on my dinner table tonight.  (I was scant with the chili powder, I soured milk because I didn’t have sour cream, my Mexi-cheese blend was the Kirkland brand, and I used a 4 oz can of green chilies–otherwise, I followed the recipe!).  My second girlie gave it a thumbs up, weirdly enough; my oldest liked it more than she thought she would (she’s anti-cream cheese); my youngest doesn’t count because she has a bad habit of “not liking” dinner until you feed her several bites yourself; and my son was mostly offended that I made him have chopped tomatoes on top (it was the veggie!).  I was a pretty big fan myself, I have to say.  The flavor was fabulous, and it wasn’t terribly labor intensive, so what’s not to love?  Try it, and let me know what you think!

I’ve had Dewey:  The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World sitting in my house since my Borders days (may it rest in peace!); I even started it once upon a time, but I didn’t make it far enough in to commit.  (Kids.)  When my hubby found it on audio for me, however, I jumped in with both feet, and found it to be–surprise!–exactly the book it says it is.  It really is a book about a library cat in an Iowa (Iowan?) small town who touched more lives than anyone could have predicted.  (He had visitors from Rhode Island and New Hampshire–he was in a Japanese documentary about cats, for Pete’s sake!)  Dewey’s life makes for an interesting and enjoyable read that feels rather like a love song to Iowa, which I can appreciate.  (If we’re lucky, we do love our home towns.)  I was interested the whole way through, and I suspect that anyone who enjoys memoirs and/or cats will be also (it is also Vicky Myron’s memoir).  I don’t see myself rereading it, however, and I’m not sure if that’s because once you’ve read it, you’ve read it, or because my own cat experiences were so very different from anything in Dewey’s life.  (I loved my cats, but they were outdoor cats.  We didn’t take them to the vet, we didn’t buy them fancy cat food, and most of them did a bit of mousing for their keep.)  Cat lovers and memoir readers, tell me what you think!

I just finished Booki Vivat’s second installment in the Frazzled series–Ordinary Mishaps and Inevitable Catastrophes–and I was completely delighted with it.  Abbie Wu’s aversion to change was me all over, as well as her tendency to panic whenever she is faced with (horror of horrors!) unexpected change.  Her reaction to her school’s first ‘Invention Convention’ would have been mine as well, and learning that you can be friends with people who are incredibly different from you, well–that’s a universal theme, right?  Vivat’s art fits her characters, and her stories are a nice reminder that middle schoolers are still dealing with regular kid problems, even in a world where many of them are forced to deal with so much more.  As Abbie learns to deal with changed expectations, scary assignments, and a (possibly) maniacal cat, you can’t help cheering for her every step of the way.  Latter elementary to middle schoolers, don’t miss this one!

Long day of wind and cold rain with a late meeting.  Goodnight, folks!

Tonight, for fun, I listened to James Cordon and Alanis Morrisette sing an updated version of “Ironic,” and I was amused…until I happened to glance at the description and note that the original came out in 1995.  Now I’m trying to wrap my mind around the fact that the ironically named “Ironic” is officially 24 years old, and what does that say about me?  Thankfully, tonight I’m reviewing Sandra Dallas’ Alice’s Tulips, which is set during the Civil War.  Now THAT’S a long time ago, right?  Who cares about a quarter century (more or less)?

Seriously, though.  TWENTY-FOUR YEARS.

Anyway.

I bought Alice’s Tulips on a whim, because it was insanely cheap and I knew that one of my favorite aunts had read and enjoyed something else by its author.  It’s been sitting on my shelf ever since, because interesting-looking or not, I rarely read anything that takes place during the Civil War.  I love history, but that’s a time period I generally avoid like the plague (sorry, Mr. Bennett!) because it depresses me.  Thankfully, Dallas’ novel concentrates on the growth of its protagonist and the relationships among the women at home, and Alice’s sense of humor makes it a good read all the way through.  She seems shallow at first, with a two-dimensional husband and a dour mother-in-law, but all of the characters grow on you as time passes, which is pretty much always a good thing for me.  (As a rule, I don’t understand the appeal of books consisting entirely of unlikable characters.  There are exceptions, I suppose–but not many.)  The entire book consists of letters to Alice’s sister–whose story we also experience, through Alice’s eyes–and if you cross Rilla of Ingleside with “Fried Green Tomatoes” (the movie, because I know it better) and set it in Iowa during the Civil War, you’ve pretty much got Alice’s Tulips.  This is worth a read, folks, even if you’re unsure about it being your thing.  Try it, and let me know what you think!

It’s not fancy, but it’s an accurate description of Brian Selznick’s Wonderstruck from a physical point of view; it’s fat and heavy, certainly, but since more than half of the pages contain only pictures, it doesn’t take a terribly long time to read.