A few books of late

Folks,

Every time I work through a couple of books quicker than normal leaves me with a sense of awe.  Why yes, I did just read for fun.  Sure thing I did nothing but just read for a bit.  I know that I've mentioned this before, but it's truly one of the most mind boggling possibilities in my life right now.  The cool thing about the spring semester is that my Spring Breaks are staggered a bit, which effectively draws out one week off to about a month of low workload (read: GRADING).  And. That. Means. More. Reading.

A sample from the last week...

The Reckoning by John Grisham - 400+ pages, done in 1 week while working full-time and keeping 2 minors alive every day

It's a lot of classic Grisham and a decent amount of a different perspective that we've not seen from him before.  Here's the thing.  We still all love Grisham for classic Grisham writing.  But after a couple of dozen novels, I get how he wants to try new things.  I'm cool with that.  I'm even more cool with that when it's caught up in something that's well familiar and, as aforementioned, well loved.  Dang, but he's a good storyteller.  It's hard to get readers to care about characters that they don't like and aren't supposed to like.

Tracks by Robyn Davidson - 200-ish pages, taking longer to get through

I'm a bit too meh about this, but it's gripping in the unexpected.  She's not the best writer, but she also makes no bones about not trying to be.   There are enough Australian moments and wordings that pass me by to keep things tingly as we go, which is really what I like best about it.  I don't want to be reading another American's privileged journey.  Here's the thing...I don't really know WHY the journey was a necessary moment in her life.  And that's a bit disorienting.  But, there are camels.  And who knew that camels could be so interesting. ***Addendum since I've finished reading this: It never paid off for me, but I OK enjoyed it because camels and Australia.***

The Cafe by the Sea: A novel by Jenny Colgan - almost 400 pages, not a debut novel but rather reads like one (a bit twisty, loose ends that are long in the set-up but quick in the resolution)

It's nice to read something that tastes a little bit familiar in a vastly different and unknown environment.  Overall, light and fluffy is sometimes so satisfying just to flip-flip-flip through a chunk of pages.  Skim read.  Who cares if you remember all the details?  Jettison a few chapters instead of just one before bed.  This was my runner-up option to take this new author for a spin, and I think I'll come back for another round once I find the book I was trying for to begin with.

I'm dabbling in the possibility of utilizing more audio books, something I've never really used for myself being more of a podcast kind of girl.  But those podcasts are going to have to go on hiatus for a bit.  Because it turns out that I can listen to a couple of Mary Roach books, which have long been on my list to explore.  And if you're on the Mary Roach fan club, let me know which is your favorite (I have Stiff waiting on deck ready to go tomorrow).  

I have words to hear and sentences to explore, new story lines that I've never been privy to before.  I'm 10 books done for 2019, and it's a comparable feeling (I imagine) as looking up from your iPhone one day in a crowded cafe and locking eyes with the one who you used to believe was going to be the love of your life but has only turned into a passing acquaintance.  But then that eye catching moments leaves you realizing that YES, you remember why this person is so perfect in any way, despite the flaws and weird quirks (s)he has.  It's time to rekindle some of that old fire.

Today: nothing special & pretty great

Today,

1.  I got paid to sit at my desk on my day off and grade for 5+ hours...sounds like a scam, but it even involved doughnut holes.  For the win.

2.  I played Scrabble (the real one) with my 6-year old, who is thrilled to play 2 & 3 letter words and didn't that I got the J, the X, the Z, and the Q and threw them down on a couple of triple letter tiles.  Boss points that we weren't keeping.

3.  I made dinner.  And extra dinner for the week.  And cinnamon rolls for a carry-in brunch at church (have sweeter words ever been uttered before...!?!).  And no one complained that dinner was 40-ish minutes late in so doing.  And it felt great flexing my triple-dipping-at-a-time skills.  Cutting board kung fu.

4.  I got to just read out loud to my child.  Some day they won't want me to anymore.  My soul feels a little bit shrively when I consider that possibility.  (Our pastor will tell me "You read well" when I volunteer for the prayers at church.  I think to myself "I have months upon years of practice.  I can narrate Paul in his letters to the Corinthians like a boss.")  Voices for every chracter.

5.  I ate 2 1/2 of the cinnamon rolls in front of my child while they were perfectly warm, soft & pillowy, and she didn't notice.  Admittedly, I take some joy in my ninja skills.  Plus, I needed her to eat some peas for the love of vegetables.  All were happy.

6.  The boy single parented most of the day, and props to him because winter is wearing on that guy's soul, and the girls have been sharp like icicles a few times too many when he's been wearing the proverbial parent hat.  But then he had some quality Monopoly time and work time and chit-chat-just-because-time with the Elder.  Some things are true and necessary.  For the love.

7.  I got to write a court report tonight for my CASA kid and just glow in it for the first time - so many good things happening, so long in coming.  We're on the upswing here.  Thanks be.

8.  I heard the Younger sing.  And sing.  And SING unconsciously.  She just does, with all of the joyful verve and abandon that a 6-year old can bring to to the table.  She has a knack for picking up on lyrics, and there's something delightfully ironic (if not forehead-slapping-I-can't-believe-my-kid-sings-this) about a tiny tot putting some soul into "Jolene" and the one who's "begging on my knees, don't take my man."  Eat your heart out, Dolly.

9.  There have been a couple of rounds of thunderstorms roll through - honest to goodness, I just jumped out of my skin thunder boomers.  Tonight, the boy added "spring thunderstorms" to our thankful prayer because any sign that the end is drawing 'nigh is a praise ye, hallelujah.  Let it be so. 

10.  Books are saving my soul right now.  Get thee to a book repository and read Tsh Oxenreider's At Home in the World: Reflections on belonging while wondering the globe.  Post haste.  I may have absolutely searched flights and guesthouse rental options for Europe last night.  There's validation in the pages that discomfort and childish airport shenanigans are, you know, worth traveling through.  Why do we need the OKAY in order to take our children and go do world things (not resort things but real, honest-to-different-culture-world-things)?  I don't know.  But validation sure helps.  My itchy travel itch is getting all itched up.  Let's go.

unrelenting grossness

Folks, this winter is the worst.  I’m sure I think that and feel that every winter.  But I’m serious this time.  (Until next winter.)  As a point of comparison, the boy hasn’t had a full 5 days of school any week yet this semester, and they returned from school on January 3.  This winter has all of the bad weather possibilities.  Literally, all of them.  On consecutive days.  Snow, fog, and thunder storms within 24 hours…mind boggling.

Because I live here and that means I actually live in the upstairs of our house for the 6-months of the year when the furnace is in use and hot air rises, I haven’t seen the boy much lately.  He is of the (s-t-r-a-n-g-e) notion that if one wears enough socks and t-shirt/long-sleeved t-shirt/sweater/sweatshirts all at once, then the downstairs is bearable.  I disagree.  I do, however, require slippers/2 blankets/a sweatshirt/a heater of a cat/all of the upstairs heat in order to maintain my winter comfort.  But that also brings about more possibility of STATIC ELECTRICITY. 

Again, I insist that we all consider this to winter to be the absolute worst. 

Case in point: The boy washed a load of blankets because a mercifully short but still germy round of sickness & contagion hit the house.  Some of us like to wrap up in blankets when we are not feeling in tip-top shape.  Some of us like even more to wrap up in MOMMY’S blankets when we’re not feeling at our very best.  So into the wash went Mommy’s blankets.  I retrieved them tonight from the dryer deliciously warm and toasty, ready to wrap up in that luxury only to be (figuratively but also literally) DEMOLISHED by static electricity in separating the blankets to reposition into perfect tuckage-innage-nestage. 

Serious face: During this process, I did entertain the thought that “This hurts now, but it will all be worth it.”  In other words, no pain – no gain. 

One shouldn’t have to contend with considering her personal pain threshold when trying to tuck into blankets.  THIS WINTER IS THE WORST.

As a last point of contention, exhibit Q: I have to dope myself up with 2000 units of vitamin D because my levels are PERILOUSLY LOW (emphasis & embellishment mine).  In other words, THIS WINTER IS THE WORST BECAUSE THERE HAS BEEN NO SUN IN WHICH I WISH TO PARTAKE. 

(Conversation with P.A. who ultimately sent me over to “the labs” for an $800 blood draw that I DID NOT know was $800)

“Are you tired a lot?”

“I teach 9 classes.”

“So…are you tired a lot?”

“See previous answer.”

“Take vitamin D.  Women in the Midwest often have really low levels which leads to feelings of tiredness.”

)

But no matter what the cesspool that is WINTER throws at me, I can still eat ice cream. 

(Yes, it probably is because of the layers upon layers of clothing and languishing in all of the warm air in this house.)

Also, snow banks are fun to drive through and I hope that I don’t accidentally hit someone’s mailbox in so doing because sometimes, I think I get really close.  That would be embarrassing. 

1,000 miles

When you sit down to hammer out the deadlines and details and end up a couple of hours later with your head spinning because all of the numbers to juggle...

The beginning of the semester: lots of dates, lots of assignment points, lots of bits and details that you sometimes remember to do and sometimes don't.  And I'm also trying to jam in all of the reading that I can manage and all of the rounds of Skip-Bo and Yahtzee that we can happily play together.  But it's a good kind of busy.

Except for the painting that I'm (hopefully) finishing up today.  I'm done with painting.

But I'm also going to run first because painting makes me tired, it turns out.  And this year, I'm tracking my exercise miles with a goal for at least 1,000 miles this calendar year.  I broke out my new pair of shoes to start me off, though some of my toes are still getting a bit numb around 15-18 minutes in, but they fit like champs and they have that delightful, grippy feel that just makes me feel faster. 

(But I'm not faster.  True story:  I've slowed down a couple of ticks from where I was running last year and added a couple of extra pounds last year.  I see a correlation, but I'm also hungry a lot.)

But 1,000 miles: 20 miles for 50 weeks.  If you want, check in with me throughout the year.  Once the semester starts, it's really easy to justify a short run every time (2.3 miles = 300 calories x 5 times a week = not enough miles). 

I like round numbers.  I like goals to aim for.  And I really like the accomplishment of an extended effort.  Slow and steady this year, folks.  Let's do it.   

It's been forever...my brain hurts

This is a momentous day.  I have FINALLY looked up the password for this old blog so that I can sign in on the computer that I actually use on the daily minute-ly basis, which should (I'm hoping) restore some of my blogging frequency.  'Cause folks...it's been over 2 months.  And per my normal, I've been thinking blog frequently and even wrote a post once and then never took the time to wrestle with the other computer. 

Thanks be to employers that gift me with faster, more reliable computers.  It's really all I want for most of my day.

I also want a brain break.  I'm hot in the middle of a stretch of every-minute-is-scripted-and-vital-to-getting-everything-done-in-a-matter-of-weeks.  I'm doing a wee bit better this semester finding little chunks of break time and keeping those sacred and all the difference right there as far as fighting the mental fatigue.  But still, some of the days-turned-weeks are still heavy. 

Meanwhile...

• I renewed some amount of my voracious reading appetite over Fall Break thanks in no small measure to the What Should I Read Next podcast.  It's like walking into a French pastry shop after you've been walking around Montmartre all morning and didn't realize how hungry you were.  Then suddenly, you must have all of the pastries.  Perhaps this isn't a familiar situation to many of us, but still, I have full confidence that this is the same emotional outpouring that I'm experiencing about books right now.  A favorite book candy author of late is Sarah Addison Allen, who dabbles in just a skoshe of magical realism and the fantastic, a pastry-esque bite of it: quick reads & leave you wanting another one.  (Confession:  I've read several of her books and still had to just look up the author's name.)
• My baseball season combined both exultation and heart rending emotions.  It was a fun year.  Feel free to ask me about the post-season awards this year, but come prepared to that conversation with a beverage of choice and maybe a comfy pillow to sit upon.  You'll be my captive audience for a while.
• We took the girls to the biggest, closest body of water that we could find in October for a couple of days.  And it was frigid.  And we still had lovely, lovely times, proving that YES, my children are growing up.  
• Every couple of years, I remember that I have an electric tart warmer and pull it out for a day or two.  Well.  We're all delighted with the copious amount of smell goods of late.  
• We spent weeks puttzing around on figuring exact figures for adding a 3rd bay onto the garage for storage and, frankly, aesthetics rather than finally getting that shed.  Because while we're not at all hoarders of things in sheds, it's still convenient to have a place to put both a car and a push mower inside at the same time.  Our mini garage doesn't fulfill that dream.  But the projected cost of the 3rd bay kept ballooning, and now we are the tepid owners of a shed that is nominally the same tannish color as the house that is plainly visible from the street (kudos HOA...that doesn't look pretty dumb AT ALL!!!) and was stuck IN THE MIDDLE OF OUR BACKYARD FOR A WEEK before *they* figured that situation out.  It's a mostly hate-hate situation between me and the shed.  And then I still had to pay for this annoying thing.  There's obviously a story here (a couple of them, in fact), but it's all about a S-H-E-D.  I'll spare you the gory details.
• Also, I'm crafting a brand new course this semester that a) no one else teaches (i.e. I'm not terribly accountable to anyone at or above my pay grade) and b) is currently studying horror in literature.  Gory details indeed...
• I don't really like or need 95% of what constitutes as Christmas and lo it is still coming.  I shall soon hermit myself.  (Maybe I'll blog more...?) 
• I do like Thanksgiving.  I want to keep this one.  

I'm currently reading Buttermilk Graffiti by Edward Lee.  IF you like food stuff and IF you like memoir writing, I encourage you to give this one a read.  It's more anthropological than memoir, but there's a definite strand of that intertwined and, frankly, it's an interesting take on food origins.  Let me know what you're reading; I'm primed for new suggestions!

Another day, another thoughts dump

Some ramblings as they come and as I have time:

·         I just finished one course that I’m teaching, which leaves me with just 9 full semester classes that I’m responsible for.  I’m shriveling a bit more just writing this.  Guess what I’ve been doing a lot of lately….?  No, don’t.  That will just shrivel your soul, too.

·         Yes, that’s my fault.  Yes, I still want your pity just a teeny bit.  

·         My children are a study in contradictions.  How can someone who looks so much like me act with so little logic at times?  Why can’t 6-year olds use words and not throw a hissy fit over previously accepted truths (i.e. “This is all of the ketchup that you get tonight.”)?  How can previously mentioned 6-year olds flip a switch and suddenly become Model Child A in the space of time it takes me to shower?  If you’re going to sulk, then logically speaking…SULK already.  We’re done-zos with this hot-cold behavior.

·        Turning on some Pandora or Spotify almost always smooths my furrowed brow.  I love it each and every time and am always glad that I turned it on (even better when I also remember that we have one of those newfangled speaker things…jam baby, jam!).  But I don’t often enough remember to do so.  Alas.  

·         Here’s where I’m at mentally and teaching-ly: Black Like Me and Americanah.  Read one or both, but mostly Black Like Me.  Not enough people have read it.  Don’t be that person.  You should be better than the others, folks.

·         My boys are in first place in their division and have been for a good part of the summer.  And.  It’s.  Delightful.

·         SO MUCH RAIN.  Make it stop.

·         I 100% came to the conclusion today that if I was living on my own with no one else to feed or nurture, I would pretty much only eat cereal and fruit with some veggie somewhere every couple of days.

·         Also, frozen edemame (microwaved, obvs) with soy sauce.  You’re welcome.

·         My kid asked for brie and crackers in her lunch tomorrow, and since we live in Bougie-ville now, she’ll fit right in.

·         You should see some of the houses around us now.  U-N-R-E-A-L

·         Someday, I’m going to roll up to one of these estates when it’s on the market in my 11-year old green CR-V with “air conditioning” and check things out in person.  I’ll be sure to bring my kids, who are perfectly well behaved when given large spaces and squishy couches (AKA any time we’ve gone into a store that sells furniture).

·         So we went without A/C in the house for 3 weeks at the beginning of summer when the sidewalk was literally (i.e. “figuratively”) melting outside.  This was after we had no hot water in the house for 2 ½ weeks in the spring.  And “my” car has this notion that when the air temperature is 80+ degrees that “air conditioning” means “blow hot hot hot scorching hot air to condition the occupants to get used to Little House on the Prairie style summers.”  It’s basically a Conestoga wagon.

·         Yes, fine.  This car was at one point purchased so as to be my primary car.  But the boy got cheap and convinced me to get the cheaper of the 2 CR-Vs that we were looking at (i.e. the stained-er and ugly-er and less fancy-er one) so as to save $1000.  Eight years later, I’d rather have a sunroof, faux leather seats, and air conditioning.  Plus, I schnookered the boy into letting me have the other “new” car that we bought in the last decade.  Guess what this one has?  Guess what I’m not driving now?  Guess who might use this to leverage herself into a Mini Cooper someday.  (Sidenote: Guess who’s the youngest child and prefers to just get to drive the car that she prefers?  Sure, you might see that as “just wants to get her way,” but it could also be interpreted as “knows how to maintain marital bliss.”)

·         After school today, while chatting with The Younger, she asked me if “you have met any new friends this year.”  Charming.  

·         And sadly, not really.  I’m lousy at that.  

·         Case in point, a teacher in my department and someone whom I do consider to be a friend thought that “You’re probably the person who we would find at the bar.”  (I think because that's where you sit to just chat with others?)  See, even my friends…

·         Earlier this semester, a student straight facedly asked me if I’m “always like that or if it’s just a show?”  What is wrong with me?!

·         My children treat me as if I’m their personal recycling/trash service.  Everything is “for you, Mommy!” which I’ve since come to realize means “I just don’t want to walk this over to the recycling on my own two feet.”  But then they give me sweet notes sometimes for no apparent reason.  I mean, for the most part, I'll still recycle those, but I feel less...perpetual maid-y about it.  I guess that's what you do.  Here's to another day of whatever comes.

Taking a moment to breath

I had a whole blog post written and it even smelled smoky (I typed it a couple of weeks ago while campfire-side and under starry, starry skies).  You can just trust me on that.  I saved it, really and truly, but it’s no longer there.  In summary: Camping is great, big wide open starry skies are greater, and saying yes to a few days of breathing is greaty great. 

We are (or more accurately, I am) a bit of a wimp as far as pushing the girls too much and too far for vacations.  Days of driving – no bueno and no thank you.  That was not my family’s style when I was growing up and I see little purpose in it now.  Get me there quick and then let me be there is a legitimate traveling motto.  The boy doesn’t believe in dropping big coin on plane tickets for us to fly (and, frankly, I get that), so we’re always looking for new, interesting, wistfully beachy locations.  And they’ve been good trips all.  So now we’re exploring a bit further and a bit further.  Fate would have it that my brother moved a little over 6 hours away this past winter, so that was easy summer vacation planning.  (For the record, when I say “a little over 6 hours away,” that really means “It took us around 8 hours to get there.”  That’s always fun.) 

So we did a little bit of camping and a little bit of visiting and had pretty great weather all the live long while.  We want camping three times as a fam this summer (the boy took the girls one more time for his annual daddy-daughter camping trip) and never a raindrop was shed upon us.  That’s some good camping ju ju.  There were s’mores.  There was the we-forgot-the-roasting-forks-so-let’s-use-these-long-sticks-that-I-found-in-the-woods moment.  This was also subsequently followed by the oops-the-stick-is-on-fire-and-I-dropped-my-sausage-in-the-fire moment.  There were hikes, complete with 200-foot sheer drops and beautiful waterfalls and whispering caves.  There were turkeys along the road and snakes in the road.  There was a lot of breathing.

Folks, I forget to breath deeply when all the days get going rapid rapid rapid, and that’s truly one of my favorite feelings – a good, deep breath.  There’s something pretty great about inhaling some air and just letting it fill you top to tips and giving some of it (but only some) back for someone else.  It’s free and readily available, and it never feels better or worse depending on the surroundings.  It always feels GREAT. 

There wasn’t a day in the 7 weeks and 5 days between graduation and the first day back when I didn’t intend to sit down with a book for a while but then found myself having never done that by the end of the day.  Not a SINGLE day all summer.  Instead, there were always games to play, muffins to bake, grading to complete (I taught 2 classes this summer), bedrooms to paint, and miles to run.  When something satisfying like reading feels extravagant and time wasting, a BIG DEEP BREATH is the ticket.  It is not a stop but rather a soul satisfying pause.