Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

I generally take the time to go through the books I stick on my almost-10-year-old’s shelf.  I’m not actually worried about most of them being inappropriate (although occasionally I find one that seems a little old for her); I read through them because a)I pick what looks good and why not read through it while it’s in my house? and b)I want the books I’m providing for her to be worth reading.  I’ve never censored anything she’s picked, but I have, on occasion, read through a book I thought looked good for her and thought–life’s too short to bother giving her that.  There are too many excellent books in the world for me to waste time bringing mediocre ones to her notice.

Now, I generally don’t review the books I skim through, because I don’t feel I’ve fully read them; on the other hand, some of them still ought to be brought to your attention.  Without further ado, then, here is my first ‘Books That Made the Cut’ list.  I’m sure it won’t be the last!

1)Chasing Vermeer, The Wright 3, and (presumably) the books that follow.  Blue Balliett’s philosophical bent works, in part because there is also emotional depth, plenty of action, and a dose of mysticism.

2)Operation Bunny, The Three Pickled Herrings, and (presumably!) the rest of the Wings & Co. series.  Hilarious, but (again) with emotional depth and some extraordinary creativity.

3)Mr. and Mrs. Bunny, Detectives Extraordinaire, and its sequel.  Polly Horvath has done herself proud–oh, how I laughed!

4)Up and Down the Scratchy Mountains.  This is a bit of an odd mix of a plot, but it works.  Laurel Snyder has some excellent picture books as well.

5)Upside-Down Magic.  This first in a new series has three authors, and there’s quite a lot of depth here considering that it’s definitely aimed at the younger side of the JF spectrum.

Give any or all of these a try–or give them to your elementary-age daughters!

I am beat, probably because the BYU/Arizona game started (and therefore ended) so frustratingly LATE last night.  (It was a nail-biter at the end, too, but the win–by brand-spanking-new coach Kalani Sitake–was satisfying.)  Add that to early church and a fussy 1-year-old (she’s got a cold, the poor love), and all I want to do is crawl into bed.  Until next time, folks!

No, I didn’t get involved in a land war in Asia.  (I’m not actually THAT stupid.)  I did, however, go grocery shopping hungry.

Twice.

To be fair, it was my son who begged for the Spicy Dill Kettle Cooked Potato Chips at Trader Joe’s–thanks to my sister, he’s hooked–but I can’t remember exactly how many weird flavors of chips I bought to try.  In addition, I now have lemon curd, pickled beets (that are weirdly sweet but still pretty good), cookie butter (because oh, the pumpkin spice puppy chow!), Honey Mustard and Onion pretzel pieces (those things are amazing)…SO.  MANY.  THINGS.

I’ll keep you posted about the weird chips.  In the meantime, although the Swedish Fish Oreos were the worst Oreos I have ever put in my mouth, someone posted a pic on FB of Nutella Oreos…those are bound to be better, right?

I have problems.

I think I grabbed Letters to Leo because we’d read picture books illustrated by its illustrator.  And hey, it looked cute–a fourth grade girl writing letters to her dog about what was going on in her life.  Right?

Here’s the thing.  It wasn’t cute in the way I wanted it to be cute, but I could see it serving a niche.  A reluctant girl reader would likely love the format, the illustrations, and subject matter.  Possibly most middle grade girls would like it.  For me, well–there were a few striking plot similarities between it and Sarah Weeks’ Honey, but the latter had more depth–and balance.  Annie’s viewpoint wasn’t mitigated much by an adult perspective, and I’d worry that some readers wouldn’t catch on to that.

Bottom line?  I thought it was okay, but it would probably be a good choice for a struggling (girl) reader.  (I doubt many boys would be interested.)  If you’ve got one, it’s probably worth a try.

A couple of weeks ago my hubby surprised me with tickets to Henry V at the Utah Shakespeare Festival in Cedar City.

This was a BIG deal.

For starters, Henry V is my favorite play.  We’ve been talking about going for almost a year, but after replacing our bathtub in the spring we’re feeling kind of poor–AND my 20th high school reunion is this fall.  I want to go to that–I miss my hometown, and it’s not as if I have the chance to see anyone I went to school with here in Utah–and that’s going to cost money.  We decided we weren’t going to be able to manage it, even though my favorite play is unlikely to be back for quite a while, and I didn’t think about it again…until I got a text from my hubby asking what we were doing the week of the 22nd.  When he didn’t give me a reason why he was asking (even when I asked him), a tiny little voice started saying what if in my head; when he told me it was a done deal, I was thrilled.

Also, by done deal, I mean COMPLETELY planned.  As in, he’d already fixed it with his mom to come to our house and stay with our kiddos, we had a hotel–the works.  How awesome is that?

Now, I admit, half of me is feeling guilty about this post, because you don’t want to be braggy in that annoying way that people get on FB.  The other half, however, says that this is MY blog, and the man deserves the recognition.  We’ve had some rough years, and we’ve both gone through periods where focusing on making each other happy was a struggle; marriage is hard. When you have a ‘nothing but net’ marriage moment, it deserves celebration, right?

I think so.

No.  I KNOW so.

Last Sunday we ate dinner at my in-laws’, and while I was chopping up apples for my salad, I mentioned to my mother-in-law that I was reading a book about developing an operation to save ‘blue babies’ and was learning all kinds of things in the process.  My father-in-law, at the other end of the room, started asking questions about it, which was unexpected (he and I generally read different kinds of books).  After several questions he asked me if I knew why he was so interested, and then continued with “I had an older brother…”  I told him that yes, I knew he’d had an older brother that died, and my father-in-law nodded and responded, “He was a blue baby.  He was born in 1942 and lived for 5 days.”

I hadn’t known that.  And it blew me away, because I had already learned that the first successful operation on a blue baby had taken place in 1944.  He’s since ordered his own copy of Breakthrough!:  How Three People Saved “Blue Babies” And Changed Medicine Forever, which is just as well (my copy is getting returned to the library the next time I pass a drive-through).  He may even find it more interesting than I did–but I found it fascinating.  The surgical procedure in question was actually developed by a black lab assistant to the head of surgery at John Hopkins.  Vivien Thomas was the only black employee at the time who wasn’t in a menial position, and his journey involved a whole lot more than scientific research.  Together, however, he, his employer, and the head of the pediatric cardiac unit found a way to save the lives of countless children who weren’t expected to see adulthood.  This is a book about science, about medicine, about the history of race in this country, and–most importantly–about progress.  It’s a compelling read for anyone.

Don’t miss it.

I was thrilled to win a copy of Plum Johnson’s They Left Us Everything; after all, I’m a memoir-loving pack rat, and the idea of mentally accompanying someone sorting through a generation’s worth of family history was irresistible.  In reading it, however, I got more than I bargained for.  Johnson’s father died of Alzheimer’s, while my own father is currently battling dementia; Johnson’s family home was on a lovely piece of land by Lake Ontario, while my own family’s home was in the Rhode Island woods, an hour away from the ocean.  We both enjoy rich family histories, albeit rich in different ways.  As I shared Plum’s journey of discovery, I found myself wondering what it was like for my sister to help my parents prepare to move from that family home in RI to a much smaller house in Idaho.  I will probably always regret not being there, both to help and to say goodbye to a place I still love fiercely, but I wasn’t in a stage of life conducive to doing either.

It is what it is.

Ultimately, I found Johnson’s memoir poignant, humorous, and well-written; it’s difficult, however, to accurately evaluate a work that took me on a sometimes uncomfortable emotional journey.  It’s certainly worth reading, but I did–occasionally–find it hard to read.  I suppose that’s an added endorsement in its own way, really, but–well, here’s the thing.

You should read it.  You totally should.  I’m glad I did.

I just won’t be reading it again anytime soon.

This post should really be longer, but I’m tired and we were gone all evening and it’s a school night, so you get the Reader’s Digest Condensed version.  I had to bring birthday treats to dinner at my in-laws’ for my new 7-year-old and found this recipe for Peanut Butter Caramel Toffee Chocolate Chip Cookie Bars.  Now, if that sounds like a 9 by 13 pan-full of goodness to you–why, yes.  Yes, it was.  They make you super thirsty and they’re deeper than your usual bars, so cut them into very small pieces, but oh, the goodness.

You should go make them.

I’m going to bed.

Every once in a while I decide to try a recipe that I’m not sure anyone in my family will like (trying new recipes is how I keep feeding my family every night from becoming a tedious chore); these Chicken & Sweet Potato Enchiladas were one of those recipes.  I had sweet potatoes as well as all of the other ingredients, and since it was Sunday, I had time to roll enchiladas with another adult in the house to police the 1-year-old.  What really surprised me was how well they went over!  My son LOVED them, and my husband had seconds, and the 1-year-old and I had a party.  I served them with sour cream, chopped garden tomatoes, and perfect pieces of avocado, and they were thoroughly delightful.  I did accidentally add extra black beans–by the time I realized that it called for one cup, instead of one can, it was too late–but we were happy with the result.  I also stacked them two layers deep in the pan I started with, rather than pulling out another one (I don’t think I’ve EVER managed to come out with the numbers the recipe calls for when I’m rolling filling into tortillas).  This involved some extra salsa verde, but it worked just fine.  I tossed the red onion in a hot pan with some olive oil for a minute or two–I don’t love the taste of near-raw onion–and the one teaspoon of chili powder became a scant half teaspoon plus a generous half teaspoon of cumin, because that’s how I roll.

Clearly I take liberties when I cook.

The end result, however, was definitely worth making again.  And since we’re heading into sweet potato season, and my youngest seems to have a taste for them, I’m sure we’ll be doing that at our house!