Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

When I saw Amy Timberlake’s Skunk and Badger available on audio, I thought I had a slam dunk for our next trip to Idaho. After a half hour or so, however, people wanted to listen to music instead; I thought perhaps that the style of humor was less accessible for my 6-year-old and turned on my Spotify playlist. When we tried it again on the way home, however, and the reaction from my kiddos was the same, I had to accept that it wasn’t going to be the perfect road trip fare I’d been hoping for. (I found it funny!) There aren’t enough illustrations to make the lack thereof on audio a dealbreaker, but for whatever reason, my kids were not enthralled. Since I was enjoying it enough to finish it on my own, though, I have to conclude that the undeniable humor in the story has more of an adult appeal. Rock-absorbed Badger and friendly Skunk make a solid ‘odd couple’, and I very much enjoyed Aunt Lola (even if hers was a solely epistolary role). The chickens were an odd addition, but then, the book was unapologetically odd all around. It’s an entertaining sort of odd, however, and so I’ll leave you to decide for yourself whether it’s worth your time.

On Saturday, a group of boys mostly from my daughter’s middle school were trick or treating and started across a crosswalk. They had flags, and the northbound traffic had stopped for them; a southbound car didn’t see them in time and hit the two boys in the lead. One of them died this morning; one of them is stable but still in critical condition. My daughter had multiple classes with the boy who died; the boy in the hospital is the bassoon player in her school band. I can only imagine the devastation of the families, friends–and the driver.

I know that the Atonement of Jesus Christ will cover all of their devastation and grief; it will be a long road, however, and we will be praying for them. GoFundMe pages have been set up for both Karl Finch and Spencer Wall, if anyone is looking for an act of kindness during this month of heightened focus on gratitude.

I’ve been giving my children extra hugs all day.

I finished listening to Finding Esme while cutting apples for applesauce this morning, and while I really am at a loss as to how to review it, I also need space on my library card–which means that rather then let the reading experience settle for a while before evaluating it, I’m rushing in regardless.

Wish me luck.

To begin, I am SO VERY TIRED of illustrators who create a cover for a book without any sense of what the book’s really like. You’d think Esme was a book with a spunky, inquisitive heroine who goes off in search of adventure, based on the cover, and that’s not at all how it feels. (Seriously, people. Tone. It’s not just for English majors.) Esme is gritty, grieving, and emotionally somewhat lost; she and her best friend are both struggling with difficult family situations and poverty, although Finch’s struggles are more stereotypical. Enter a mystical southern element–Esme’s grandmother can find things that are lost, things people are looking for, and Esme has started to feel that same gift within her. Add friendship difficulties, some moonshining, various levels of tragedy, and a slew of different kinds of people to deal with (and learn from), and you get a mix of a few too many themes in a single book that’s frequently heartbreaking and less about the found dinosaur bones than one might suppose from the description and first line. I’m not saying there isn’t a followable plot thread–there is–but it’s bumpy with varioius additions and subtractions. If you like poignant (although slightly scattered) stories involving difficult families, Finding Esme may be for you; if you’re looking for a tightly woven or adventurous story, probably not so much.

Your call.

Welllllll…it turns out that our internet problem was actually an electrical problem–or something, because this is emphatically NOT my area of expertise–and getting it fixed involved a fried (quite literally) modem, a hole melted into a power strip, concerning noises and foul-smelling electrical smoke, and a midnight visit from Rocky Mountain Power. Good times! Between that and household things and our fall break trip to Idaho to visit family, I clearly got VERY behind on my posts. Here I am, however–eating lunch, pear crisp in the oven, and ready to review Karen Hawkins’ A Cup of Silver Linings, which has been sitting by my keyboard, patiently waiting its turn.

Full disclosure? I liked The Book Charmer better, probably because books. Silver Linings, however, was still a thoroughly enjoyable read, and those with an affinity for plants (or tea!) will be delighted. (That’s the rest of my family, not me. Or, perhaps, my dad.) There’s not much romance in this one; instead, Sarah and Ava’s relationship is almost a main character. The other relationship at the forefront is a grandmother/mother/daughter one, with Julie’s (the mother/daughter) death forcing Ellen (the grandmother/mother) and Kristen (daughter/granddaughter) to learn to truly know and compromise with each other. The pacing of that felt slightly off to me–the compromise comes late but in surprisingly full force when it does–but grief messes up the regular order of things, so it may be just as realistic that way. Regardless, the Dove Pond series is a solid I’m-waiting-impatiently-for-the-next-one series for me, and since the teaser at the end suggests the imminent return of a previously absent Dove sister to town, I’m especially looking forward to the next one.

I’m more or less past my “capable of full concentration and coherent writing” time of night, but I still have ALL THE BOOKS waiting to be reviewed, and so I give you Dragonbreath #2: Attack of the Ninja Frogs. Full confession: this has been sitting on my bookshelf since my son finished the first book in the series, and I pulled it off to read mostly because he checked it out of his school library and I felt so guilty I told myself to JUST READ IT ALREADY. (Clearly the caps are a symptom of the time of night; also, I did WANT to read it, but then, I want to read all the books. I just made myself read THAT one, right then.) Ninja Frogs was definitely better than its predecessor–introducing a series is tricky, I imagine–and I enjoyed it thoroughly, managing to actually read it in just two evenings. (Not that it’s long or anything–evenings have just been busy of late. I managed it mostly because my Wednesday meeting was canceled.) Danny and Wendell are back, but Wendell’s befriending of a girl has Danny in fits–until her pursuit by ninja frogs puts him in a full-out ninja-induced euphoria. Reality is different from the movies, of course, but there still manages to be quite an impressive climax! Reluctant readers ought to eat this up.

Because I do, folks. I started out with three baskets full, but I’m down to one basket, one gallon Zip-Loc in the freezer, and a partial gallon Zip-Loc in the fridge waiting for me to pour the rinsed, partially full strainer into it. My neighbors have more, too, but I don’t know that I’ve got room for them!

Anyway. I’m taking a break from the grapes and my laundry because I absolutely cannot let myself get MORE behind on book reviews–and so I give you the latest Baby-Sitters Club graphic novel, Kristy and the Snobs. It’s written by one Chan Chau, and I would assume that she’s taking over the reigns from Gabriela Epstein (although she’s only done one previous one), except that Goodreads is listening Epstein as the adapter of Good-Bye, Stacey, Good-Bye, which is due out in February. (Who knows?) Her art, as always, differs slightly from her predecessors, but I got used to it pretty quickly. As far as the plot goes, Kristy’s family’s ailing dog is poignant, but the “Snobs” and Kristy’s behavior left me wanting a bit more discussion (and maybe a consequence or two?) before it was wrapped up. (The elements of the whys and the changes of heart are THERE, mind you–they just feel a bit rushed through.) Intended readers, however, may not care–neither of my older daughters mentioned anything about it–and so, once again, I’d recommend this one to fans of the series in either its new or its original incarnation.

And now, back to the grapes.

AND the laundry.

Okay, I didn’t post on the 7th because our internet was down all day, and I couldn’t really work around that! As for the 9th, well–the day was just packed. There was laundry and apple picking and more laundry and feeding people and more laundry and finding room for the apples, not to mention stake conference over Zoom. Today doesn’t exactly feel carefree, either–this morning I scrubbed the tub and puttered in my kitchen to fairly good effect, not to mention working on my too-tipsy mailbox, running over to the elementary school with a forgotten Chromebook, and putting the bedspread back on my bed. My oldest and I hit the orthodontist this afternoon, and in addition to more feeding of the people (because they always want to EAT, dang it!), we’ve been reading library books that need to go back tomorrow and doing all of the other various things one does of an evening with one’s children when one’s poor husband is working miserably long hours for the third week in a row.

Anyway.

On the other hand, I’m here today, and I get to review Marjorie Agosin’s (imagine an accent over that last i) The Maps of Memory: Return to Butterfly Hill. Like its predecessor, it combines oddly whimsical illustrations with difficult details about both life in a dictatorship and life in the aftermath; Celeste learns more about her parents’ experiences while she was in Maine and, in a surprising postal twist, gets the opportunity to look for some of the disappeared. We see friendship, hardship, PTSD, and hope, and while there’s a slight awkwardness in the writing style that I tend to attribute to being translated from another language, Maps of Memory is a book you want to keep reading. In the meantime, freshly picked grapes are calling me, so have a good night all!

I honestly don’t know how farmers’ wives did it 150 years ago. How would you deal with the fruits and veggies that were ripe and needed processing in addition to laundry by hand, cooking with a wood stove, washing dishes by hand…ugh. (No wonder families kept kids home from school to help out.) And here I am, stressing because I have apples and grapes and maybe more tomatoes!

Anyway. I did miss Friday because of the apples, though…the kids and I picked Friday morning before piano, since last week was SEPs and no school on Friday, and I made a pot of applesauce and a crockpot of apple butter before dinner. (Before MY dinner. I put the kids in charge of regular food, and they finished eating before I finished filling up the crockpot.) On Sunday we had dinner in Clearfield, and watching General Conference required all of the concentration I could spare, anyway! Now, however, I’m sitting here with at least three books waiting to be reviewed, and I have fruit leather plans for after my Tuesday trip to the library. Before that trip, however, I’m opting for a review of Sunny Makes a Splash, because my 12-year-old and I have both finished it, and the sooner it goes back, the sooner she can find something else to (re)read over breakfast!

If you haven’t read Jennifer L. and Matthew Holm’s “Sunny” graphic novels, they’re fun and deal with some interesting issues that have been facing kids for generations. (They’re set in the 70s, so the issues kind of have to be ones that have stuck around.) Their latest is the fourth of Sunny’s stories, in which Sunny gets her first paid job and is thinking about dates (albeit mostly in a removed-from-herself kind of way), her mother is struggling to deal with that, and her grandfather…well, I won’t spoil that part of the plot! Sunny is relatably ordinary, which makes her an especially fun character to read about, and her grandfather is entirely lovable. You don’t NEED to have read the previous books to enjoy this one, but why not experience the whole series? It’s a solid read for latter elementary through middle school.

Oh, the struggle–I have yet to rethink my posting schedule. On the other hand, I’ve done good work in my kitchen!

Anyway. When I last went to Ream’s I picked up two small pork sirloin roasts, each of them a bit over a pound and a half; on Monday I went to Parent/Teacher conferences at the high school, and so I spent some time looking at crockpot recipes for pork sirloin roasts on Sunday evening. On Monday morning I had to postpone the recipe I’d been planning on because I was out of apple juice and couldn’t face going to the store first thing; instead, I put this Balsamic Glazed Pork Sirloin Roast in the crockpot and hoped for the best; I have to say, I was NOT disappointed. (Although I did have to call the neighbor who was watching my littles so he could send my son over to turn off the crockpot while my oldest and I were at the high school.) Three of the kids gave me thumbs up (or middle to up); the fourth, my sage hater, actually gave it a thumbs middle. And my HUSBAND voluntarily used the glaze! (Balsamic–or any–vinegar is not his thing.) As for me, well–I kept snitching more and more bits of meat to dip in the glaze, because the meat was lovely, but the glaze was out of this world. If you want an amazing crockpot recipe that comes together with a minimum of effort, look no further.

If I weren’t so full right now, I’d seriously go sneak another piece of pork with glaze after just writing about it.

My 12-year-old and I finished reading One for the Murphys aloud together on the same day that she finished reading Fighting Words to herself, and even now I am struck by the contrast between the two. Murphys has an idyllic foster care family, which feels more like a fairy tale than reality, and yet it captures perfectly the dilemma of a deeply flawed parent (hence foster care!) who is, nevertheless, a legal parent. Foster care is an uneasy, difficult thing; it would be lovely if it could end in adoption when a placement works well, and yet it so often can’t. Temporary children and temporary parents and a temporary home–ALL of that takes a toll. Fighting Words, on the other hand, gives us a grittier picture of foster care, but it does lack the element of parental uncertainty.

Both books made me cry.

One for the Murphy‘s Carley Connors is both prickly and lovable in a wholly realistic way, and her relationship with her (first?) best friend is a solid thing to watch; mistakes are made, neither is perfect, but they manage in the end. Mullaly Hunt–or is it just Hunt?–is careful to show that the Murphy family has its flaws, although sometimes they feel perfect. This isn’t, perhaps, a perfect book, but it has heart and humor and raw emotion (my throat was killing me from trying to read the last few pages aloud over the tears); don’t miss it.

And by-the-by, I apparently can’t manage to collect my brain enough to write critically, cohesively, or coherently after 8:00 at night, which is why I’ve missed the last few posts. I’m going to have to rethink my posting schedule. (And in case you’re wondering, I’m posting after 8 tonight because I wrote most of this post this morning…)