Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

Oh, Kate DiCamillo.

The woman can write SO beautifully–and she can pull you far enough into a story that you want to finish it. But MAN, she gets weird! To be fair, I did expect Raymie Nightingale to be quirky; after all, the inside cover begins its synopsis by telling you that Raymie’s father has run away with a dental hygienist, and Raymie plans to learn how to twirl a baton, win the Little Miss Central Florida Tire competition, and get her picture in the paper, all so that he will see it and come home. (That says quirky to you, too, right?) What I didn’t expect, however–but probably should have, in a general sort of way–was the focus on Raymie’s soul and its ever-shifting size, the odd evolution of the pet situation, and the surprisingly satisfying ending after a very wandering sort of plot. For those familiar with DiCamillo’s work–apart from Because of Winn-Dixie, which was delightful and beautiful in a very not-weird sort of way–it should come as no surprise that I’m unable to give you much more than that. At the end of the day, though, Raymie and her friends are characters worth knowing, so what can I say? You might as well embrace the weird.

Apparently the spin-off “Baby-sitters Little Sister” series existed in regular book form years ago, but I was unaware. I came across its graphic novel incarnation while looking for info on the next BSC graphic novel, however, and I’ve had it on hold ever since; it finally came in a week or two ago–AND I finally finished it today. (I say finally partly because I’ve been trying to push through it and so I’ve tried to read a bit in the mornings, only I keep falling asleep.) Karen’s Witch is likely to appeal a bit more to the younger fans of the BSC series; Karen herself is only 7. Then again, the reader catches glimpses of the story from Kristy’s viewpoint as well, so who knows? Maybe they’ll all like it! What I know is that I never had the kind of imagination that created witches out of my neighbors and convinced me that I was the only one who knew something and therefore had to save the world; on the other hand, that kind of imagination makes for quite the story. This is going to best appeal to its intended audience, but it was still kind of amusing for me–and I’m sure that my 10-year-old, at least, is going to LOVE it.

1. At the dentist’s office on Monday the radio station played–in a row–“I Saw the Sign,” “Complicated,” and “Billy Jean.” When I mentioned to the hygienist that Ace of Bass brought me back to high school, she responded with “yeah, that’s an old one!” I’m not sure how I feel about this.

2. I told my second girlie to close the blinds closest to the door this evening. Five minutes later I re-entered the room and reminded her (in an impatient voice, I admit) of what I’d told her to do. “I did it!” “No you didn’t–they’re still open!” “I thought you said the ones closest to me!” “THEY WERE ALREADY CLOSED!!!” A late night finishing her history fair project coupled with early play practice is making for a difficult week.

3. At the dinner table, AFTER this second girlie had established beyond all reasonable doubt that she was on the ragged edge, her older sister opted to talk about what she’d learned in Utah Studies today. I’m all about this sort of sharing, normally, but she learned about how the Paiutes hunted rabbits and using their furs. We have bunnies. This was completely guaranteed to upset her sister on a NORMAL day.

4. She also felt the need to remind us all of what she learned in science about how you can tell that yogurt might be bad–while we were eating yogurt.

5. I left to help with a youth activity shortly afterwards. You know those days when you’re practically sprinting toward the door…

6. At 9:54 my ragged edge girlie came up to tell me that she couldn’t sleep. Part of the problem appeared to be a scary dream she couldn’t shake, so I gave her something silly to think about instead–but she has play practice again tomorrow morning.

7. Pray for us all.

Seriously, folks–we got slammed. And even though our school district stuck to its two hour delay instead of relenting and cancelling altogether (like most of the school districts affected), it also explicitly stated that if you didn’t feel like you could safely get your children to school, you shouldn’t send them. And given how long it took for the plows to come, and how appalling the weather and traffic news was, and how unlikely it was going to be to get safely out of my driveway before I shoveled…yeah, we stayed home. (Until 3, when we had dentist appointments. But the plows had come and I had finished shoveling by then.) There was hot chocolate, there was Play Doh, and there was soup and rolls for dinner. Not a bad day, really.

Anyway. On the other end of the weather spectrum there is Carl Hiaasen’s Skink–No Surrender, which I finished listening to on Saturday night. Hiaasen loves to write about Florida in all of its sweltering, steamy glory, and this foray into YF, instead of intermediate or adult fiction, is no exception. It involves a teenage boy’s search for his cousin (a rebel who runs off with a guy she meets online), various sorts of wildlife, and an impressive array of questionable choices–not to mention one legendary ex-governor. (Skink apparently shows up first in several of Hiaasen’s adult works, but I believe he also makes an appearance in Scat.) His presence adds a fabulous degree of unpredictability and laconic understatement to a story already teeming with captivating bits, making this book another wild ride from a man who never fails to entertain. I was worried about what content made it YF rather than JF, but after reading it I have no problem passing it on to my 13-year-old. Hiaasen manages to convey the horrendous consequences that can stem from trusting someone you meet online when you’re young and reckless WITHOUT getting overly graphic, and that’s actually impressive. Bottom line? This is one heck of a ride that’s just fine for early teens. Bon voyage!

Our county library system does a monthly Goodreads challenge, and January’s was to read either a Sherlock Holmes story OR “something from the Sherlock pastiche”. Since I was feeling overwhelmed and read Doyle’s complete Holmes works as a kid, I was going to skip this particular challenge–until my friend Britt found me the perfect graphic novel. It still came down to the wire, I admit, but tonight I finished Muppet Sherlock Holmes.

Oh. My. Gosh.

Here’s the thing, folks. “The Muppet Show” is a very hazy memory. I was too young to really remember the details, but we had one of those books that you color on with the special crayons that wipe off–it was the Muppet stage, I think–and a friend of the family took my sister and me to see “The Muppet Show on Tour” when we were kids. (We got Gonzo and Fozzie felt cutouts–just their heads–on poles.) My grasp of the details isn’t much, but there’s still memory there, and reading Muppet Sherlock Holmes was like being transported back in time. There are key bits of Holmes stories, sure, but ultimately, it was vintage “Muppet Show.” Fozzie’s jokes, Gonzo’s random weirdness, and Kermit’s commentary kept me grinning; it was like a piece of the 80s had made it all the way to my 2020 married life. (Trippy, I grant you, but FUN.) If the muppets have ever been a thing in your life, friends, DON’T MISS THIS.

(It’s out of print, though, from what I can see. Hope your library is a good one!)

I confess, I’ve been on a new recipe kick of late; I think it’s a reaction to all of the “too much craziness, we’ll just order something or have breakfast for dinner” that happened over the holidays. (Also a reaction to my holiday over-indulgences–I’ve been using Fix-It and Forget-It Lightly quite a bit.) My kids are getting tired of our more frequent leftover nights, but when you cook more often, there’s more food to be consumed, right? Anyway. One standout recipe was this Pork Chops and Hash Brown Casserole from Six Sisters’ Stuff. (I have no idea if the name of a blog should be in quotes, italics, or what, and so I just left it alone. It’s past 9, which means I don’t care enough to research it.) It was TASTY, and not actually as decadent as you might think. I used my homemade cream of celery soup substitute, because I like it better, and plain yogurt instead of sour cream, since it was baking; the meat took a bit longer to cook than anticipated, but getting the hash browns out of the freezer a bit early would fix that. All in all, we enjoyed this quite a bit, and it will definitely be happening again. The next time you find pork chops on sale, give this one a try!

I am SO tired and I was almost DONE with my post when some random movement deleted it. I can’t figure out how to retrieve it, so here’s the VERY abbreviated version…

ALA awards were announced today. Go to their website for the winners, honor books, and runners up.

I finished listening to The Fairy-Tale Detectives. I should have known it would be darker, because hey, SISTERS GRIMM, but I didn’t think about it. The Grimm sisters go to live with the grandmother they thought was dead and end up investigating Everafters (fairy tale and imaginary characters, from Dorothy to Snow White to Baloo) because of their family legacy. Action packed and fast paced. Not warm and fuzzy–at ALL–but fun.

Sorry you missed the original review–signing off.

(Yeah, I know this was terse. But I’m exhausted and MAD at my computer!)

Seriously–my poor son. He finally succumbed after all of his sisters had at least moved past the worst of it, and last night he threw up every few hours while sporting a temperature of 103 or so. (None of the girls threw up, but then, he’s really the only one of my kiddos who gets nauseated and occasionally vomits when his fever spikes). I’m feeling extra exhausted and not quite well myself, which is why last night’s regular post didn’t happen after all; on the other hand, all the kids were in bed by 8 tonight, and so I’m taking the opportunity to post a review that’s long overdue and thus avoid letting the (physically) viral awfulness put me behind.

Part of the reason this review is so long overdue is that I’ve struggled to know just what to say. St. Martin’s Press was kind enough to send me an ARE of The Girls at 17 Swann Street a year or so ago; in my continuing quest to catch up, I finished it several months ago, and I was completely–undone. (I was thinking blown away, but that is far too violent and explosive of a metaphor to express the effect this book had on me.) I’ve been drawn to anorexia nervosa in an odd way since high school, ever since the health class in which I learned that I’m the poster personality for the disease–except for the fact that I love, love, LOVE to eat. (I love eating and food and trying new things far more than I want to lose significant weight. That’s frustrating now that I’ve hit 40 and my body reacts differently to food, by the way.) I was a detail-oriented, self-disciplined, self-motivated, and high-achieving student, and continued to be (more or less, depending on life circumstances) through college, where I actually wrote a paper on anorexia. (Using, I might add, at least one internet article. Finding said article felt so intimidating at the time that I emailed a friend from home for help; the internet was not something I was accustomed to using for information. This was THAT LONG ago.) I read Laurie Halse Anderson’s Wintergirls shortly after it came out, and was moved by it while frustrated that it ended at the very start of Lia’s journey to recovery. AND I entered to win a copy of Yara Zgheib’s The Girls at 17 Swann Street, which was hauntingly, heartbreakingly beautiful. It was stark and painful and ultimately hopeful. It consumed me while I was listening to it (audio still being what I have the most time for), and even my husband was affected by what he heard. Anna’s (and Matthias’) story is a journey into residential treatment for eating disorders, a window into a house where eating meals and snacks consumes so much mental and emotional energy that there is little room for anything else. It is a searing look at what our culture tells us about what our bodies should and should not look like AND what we should or should not do to make them look that way. This is a book that will make you cry, make you cringe, make you smile, and make you think. It is lyrical and spellbinding and arresting and thought-provoking.

It is a book that needs to be read.

Yeah, I was going to write this review last night, but my hubby and I ended up working on a puzzle and watching shows instead. No regrets there! Still, I did finish Abigail Adams, Pirate of the Caribbean a few nights ago, after putting it off for a ridiculously long time for such a short book. I think it’s the art (not my favorite) plus the chapter book writing style–I love Steve Sheinkin’s other books, but the “Time Twister” series is really more of a thing for my kids than for me. (Maybe also because I grew up with a professor for a father who took us to historical sites all over the country; I never thought history was boring. Art, maybe. But not history.) That said, however, this was fun for its audience, and I did learn a few things about female pirates. It’s a good followup to Abraham Lincoln, Pro Wrestler; a focus on female historical figures, for contrast, and a specific appeal to pieces of history that have a certain relevance–or appeal–today. Give this series to your early or middle elementary schooler!

Seriously. My 4-year-old started on Friday–fever, exhaustion, lack of appetite, sore throat, and an incredibly gunky-sounding cough–and my 13-year-old followed suit on Saturday. The 10-year-old started mildly on Sunday night but fell hard by Monday evening, so I took her in to see if it was influenza.

Nope.

Apparently there’s an influenza copycat out there at the moment–similar symptoms, but the sore throat is worse while the fever not quite so high. Which is TOTALLY us. My last hope is that my son will somehow escape, but that’s feeling less and less likely. Ah, parenthood!

Anyway. If you also have sick kids, here’s a book recommendation to cheer you up. 24 Hours in Nowhere is by the same author as Insignificant Events in the Life of a Cactus, which my older girls and I all loved. (Granted, my 13-year-old is inexplicably incapable of saying the title and keeps calling it Insignificant Lives in the Event of a Cactus, but she loved it all the same.) I wasn’t sure about 24 Hours in Nowhere initially–the main characters’ life situations aren’t exactly warm and fuzzy–but it didn’t take long for it to win me over (and then some!). Gus’s quest for gold in an abandoned mine leads to an unexpected overnight adventure, and Dusti Bowling’s blend of hardship, friendship, humor, pathos, and adventure is pitch-perfect. (The entire book is improbable, I suppose, but who cares? It’s just so blasted good.) I found this every bit as enjoyable as Insignificant Events, and that’s saying something. If you want a satisfying book with heart to spare, look no further. (The heat of the desert setting might even warm you up a little.)

I might actually have to own this one.